Chapter 41: Interlude in the Festivities
— Wanda's POV—
"This has been so much fun," Timmy looked over at her with a beaming smile after they finished their Creole-themed feast. He had indulged heartily, relishing each bite with such delight that she found greater joy in his beaming face than in the vibrant scene below. From their raised pavilion, the view was breathtaking: a continuous procession of family-friendly floats, alive with color and energy, dancers, marching bands, and holograms vying in costume contests. Yet, the sight of her dear, unwell boy having such a good time was the most wonderful sight of all.
She glanced at the little souvenirs from their previous experiences that were lined up on the coffee table; figurines of a man in a kilt playing the bagpipes, a clog dancing girl, and a turtle now stood along the gladiator, knight, and dragon. He had playfully positioned each figurine standing before one of the pendants/charms, she had received as her trinkets after each experience—as if standing guard over them. A thistle, windmill and sea turtle had joined her own small collection of costume jewelry she'd probably never actually wear, but would keep as fond mementos.
She looked away from them, holding in a sigh. Poor Timmy must have felt so anxious during the Scottish breakfast, Dutch lunch, and Caribbean dinner. Her attempt to conceal her emotions, thinking it would protect him, had only made him tense. She was aware of his perceptiveness, and remembered him telling her before that knowing something was wrong, but not being told what it was, was much harder to endure. He had explained to her how such a scenario left his mind jumping to dozens and dozens of possibilities and that was much harder than worrying about one thing—and yet she had burdened him with that terrible feeling once again, and during a time in which he was supposed to be having fun.
She had tried to hide that something was amiss, but she had known she had done a poor job of it the moment he first asked her what was wrong. Seeing how relaxed and carefree he now looked with the explanation she had given him, she ought to have just told him when he had first asked her, and spared him from the anxiety he must have felt during those three feasts.
—Maybe if she was a better liar, she might have been able to think of an explanation that would satisfy him sooner. She hadn't told a complete lie, but had fed him a partial truth—but it was not to protect just his feelings, but her own. She had concealed the full truth simply because her heart just wasn't strong enough right now to hold herself together if she were to recount everything that had happened during his nap, to him.
"I've heard of gumbo before, but I've never tried it. I didn't even really know what it was..." Timmy chattered away, satisfied with the explanation she had provided him. He was an insightful child, but not a mind reader. He was also deeply trusting of his loved ones—he never doubted that she had told him everything about what happened during his nap. If he knew that she had concealed things from him, it would probably hurt him... but after discovering what it was, he might wish he had remained unaware. She'd rather that he remained not knowing, and if there was no good reason to bring the matter to light, then she'd keep it buried in the dark.
She could only hope that Piper, who had witnessed the event, would honor her promise to remain silent. The Fey naturally abhorred lies, and Piper had even declared she would prefer to be 'hung by the hair over a scorpion pit then deal with Nova's reaction''—so, with any luck, the incident with the tiny heart-soul would remain between them.
Timmy was already nervous about his soul after the nightmares it had given him, and how it had attacked Cosmo, Poof and Jorgen—if he found out then…knowing Timmy, he might not want to let it back into his heart when the time came that it could return to its rightful place.
"—crawfish was also really good; and I never even heard of crawfish before." Timmy was still speaking cheerily about the food as he looked down below at the festive display, oblivious to the thoughts running through her head.
As she watched him, she wanted to capture the image of how he looked at that moment in her long-term memory. His carefree innocence was like a balm to the wound her heart had suffered earlier. Simply observing him helped soothe the ache of her emotions, and right now, she had never seen him look sweeter.
Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she affirmed, 'Yes, that's right... This is Timmy. What the heart-soul showed me wasn't real. Timmy isn't...! Look at him, he's smiling... aw, look how dapper he looks.'
In each of their shared experiences, they had been given themed outfits to wear. While he had looked cute in all of them, this particular one stood out as the best. Her boy was dressed in the fashion of 1920s New Orleans, with a crisp white shirt adorned with pink pinstripes, a well-fitted pink waistcoat, and a pink necktie. He wore a grey blazer with peaked lapels, grey trousers, polished oxford shoes, and completed the look with a little pink fedora. Stylish suspenders and a vintage pocket-watch added the perfect finishing touches.
Timmy must've felt her eyes on him and looked at her quizzically; she smiled in response, playing with the rim of his fedora. "You look so cute in that outfit; I just can't get over it. You look like a tiny little gentleman! I'm making a copy of this outfit when we get back home—you look too good in it, to wear it only once."
"Aww, you look great in yours too!" He blushed, clearly flattered. She glanced down at her own 1920s flapper dress, and despite his sincere tone, she couldn't help but wonder if he was just returning the compliment. Her dress was a short, shimmering pink satin number that barely covered her knees, with a daring V-neck that brought a blush to her cheeks. The bodice was adorned with sequins and beads that glittered in the sunlight. A beaded belt highlighted her waist, while the skirt boasted layers of fringe made from pink and silver beads. Her ensemble included silver T-strap shoes with rhinestones, long dangling earrings, and several strands of beaded necklaces. To top it off, and adding to her discomfort, was a pink feathered boa.
"—This outfit... it's something my mother or Blonda would wear," she said, fiddling with her hair, now styled into a short, curly bob. A headband, heavy with beads and sequins, and decorated with feathers, sat across her forehead. Struggling to conceal her insecurity, she forced a smile. "I feel like a fish in pants, wearing something like this."
Timmy chuckled. "A fish in pants would look silly, but you don't look silly at all. I think you're very stylish! You're like, super glitzy and glamorous!"
"Oh, well, thank you, sweetie." She smiled. If Cosmo were here, she doubted he would choose words like stylish, glitzy, or glamorous to describe her current appearance. She was also sure that if Blonda and her mother saw her now, they would be too busy laughing to even muster an insult.
Timmy leaned his head on her shoulder, using the feathered boa as a pillow. All the excitement had worn him down again, and he would need to rest again soon, but he also appeared as if he really wanted to stay awake. He watched the holographic activities below with a sigh carried on his soft smile.
"…When you recover, I'll take you to the real Mardi Gras, but you have to promise to stay next to me, alright? It might not be as dangerous as I had first assumed, but it's still not 100% safe, so…."
"I promise!" Timmy's face lit up eagerly. "Traveling to China, going to the real Mardi Gras and—and lots of other things! When I get better, we'll do all kinds of things we've never done before—and try lots of new stuff!"
"I like the sound of that; it's so easy to get stuck in your ways. I'm thousands of years old and there are tons of things I've never tried…so lets make lots of memories of trying new things together." She smiled.
"Hmm-mm!" Timmy nodded brightly, looking happy with that thought, even though his own memories wouldn't remain….
She watched as he blinked tiredly as he fought to stay awake in order to continue enjoying himself, but as much as she sympathized with his plight, it would be bad if he pushed his body too far.
The loveseat was comfortable but did not offer much space; so she fetched one of the plush pillows that were on it and placed it on her lap, then with a gentle hand she guided Timmy into a laying position, his head resting on the pillow. He peered up at her at first with a baffled look, obviously never having had slept on anyone's lap before, and then he gave her a sweet smile, letting his body relax as she petted his head soothingly.
"Now, as we prepare for a change of ambience, allow yourselves time to rest and reflect on your journey thus far in preparation for our grand finale." Nova's voice spoke gently over the record, as if he had foreseen that Timmy would be reluctant to rest and would wish to stay awake to enjoy himself more. "Prepare yourself for an upcoming extravagant event that will introduce you to the lively Mardi Gras nightlife of the French Quarter. Take the opportunity to rejuvenate in order to fully immerse yourself in the upcoming revelry."
"Well, that does sound nice, doesn't it?" She remarked, hoping the nightlife wouldn't be too authentic a recreation of the risqué tales she had heard about the event. "So, you get some shut eye whilst they prepare for it, alright?"
"Hm, okay." Timmy closed his eyes and playfully placed his fedora over his face, shielding himself from the sunlight. Within minutes, he had fallen into a light, relaxed doze—a peaceful tableau for any observer. Yet, she watched his chest anxiously, dreading the appearance of the soul-thread while fervently hoping it would remain unseen. The ordeal had left her feeling nauseous; it had rattled her deeply. Despite her inability to hide her distress from Timmy, she took some solace in managing to maintain her composure as well as she had in his presence. To be honest, she felt as though she could fall to pieces.
She took a deep breath. A wave of heaviness washed over her, making her heart feel as if it weighed a hundred pounds of pure sorrow and regret.
The waking nightmare that the Heart-Soul had made her endure had etched itself into her mind with a painful clarity, the vivid images imprinted on her consciousness. It was painful to endure, but she also had no desire to forget what she had been shown. Running away from it would be tantamount to denying the suffering that Timmy had endured...and was still enduring.
It would also be a refusal to confront her own shortcomings.
—How would she ever hope to do better if she couldn't endure the pain of being reminded of her mistakes?
"Dear Wanda, it appears that you are experiencing some tension. Allow me to inquire if you would be interested in some refreshments?" Nova's voice offered her, coming from the record, and a cocktail appeared in her hand. She bit down on her lower lip, eyeing the record dubiously. "Rest assured, you are not under surveillance—this device is designed to play pre-recorded messages tailored to a range of potential scenarios. The events have also been arranged to cater to both your mental and physical well-being, as well as your wishes and preferences."
'I hope that's true….' She thought, glancing up at the bird-camera taking their souvenir video and hoped that it truly was just a video for Timmy and herself to watch.
"The drink you have now is known as the Sazerac, and it holds the prestigious title of being the official beverage of Mardi Gras. Additional cocktails can be provided upon request. Just make your selection from the menu in front of you and it shall be provided."
A hologram of a rather handsome bartender dressed in an extravagant Mardi Gras costume appeared beside her; as lifeless as a doll, holding a silver tray in one hand and a cocktail menu in the other. It appeared that it couldn't be interacted with aside from providing drinks, which she might have been thankful for, as she was not in the mood for a conversation. She just wanted some quiet time to sort out her racing thoughts and shaken emotions.
"I'm not a heavy drinker…." She demurred, sniffing the beverage. It smelled strong. She took a sip and crinkled up her nose; it was a powerful drink, it's flavor a sophisticated mix of spice, sweetness and herbal notes. She had experience with wine, but she had never really indulged in cocktails. It wasn't really because of a dislike of them or anything. She just never really had much of a chance to go out and try them.
"Considering the challenging day you've had and the additional stress that lies ahead due to the treatments, it is crucial to prioritize self-care. Failure to unwind could potentially result in burnout. Therefore, I implore you to take this time of rest as an opportunity to indulge in relaxation." Nova's voice continued to encourage her over the record, and she took a second sip. The smooth, melodious tunes of the jazz music floated through the air, intertwining with the rich aroma of bourbon and the tantalizing spice of the cocktail. The festive sights below added to the enchanting ambiance, while the sight of Timmy peacefully curled up in her lap filled her with warmth. As the music washed over her, she felt herself surrendering to relaxation, her body melting like candle-wax in the intense summer sun. With an exhausted sigh, she closed her eyes, deciding she would allow herself to forget what had happened only up until she finished her drink.
— Anti-Wanda—
"Cosie...! Foop...!" Her voice shook as she staggered through the halls of her home, searching for her husband or son, her body trembled uncontrollably as the flood of images, sounds and emotions continued to assault her senses, bringing with it waves of fear and desperation. Her heart was racing erratically, creating a suffocating pressure inside her chest. Sweat trickled down her forehead, every muscle in her body tensed, causing her limbs to ache and cramp with the intensity of her distress.
"H...help..." She pleaded as she was no longer able to keep floating and crumpled onto the hallway floor. She laid there for a few moments, trying to catch her breath. Waves of dizziness washed over her, making her feel unsteady and disoriented. The hallway spun around her, her vision blurring. The pain in her head intensified, throbbing in sync with her racing thoughts.
She closed her eyes in hopes it would stop the hallway from spinning, but it only made the images come to her more vividly.
She was standing in a garden full of Chinese styled decorations; that Turner boy was lying on a type of bed she had never seen before, wearing clothing that matched his surroundings as he dozed peacefully; but peace was not what she felt. There was a red-cord...
She did not know why, but the sight of this red-cord filled her with fear and anxiety.
"Uurgh..." She moaned, opening her eyes, but she could still see the images clearly in her mind's eye. They seemed to overlap with the world around her, blurring the line between reality and the chaotic world inside her mind. Unable to muster the energy to use her wings, she grabbed onto the wall, using it as a support to pull herself to her feet. She had collapsed outside of her husband's study, but knowing he had a couch in there she staggered towards the room, she needed to lie down, and even though she had already checked this room...she was hoping somehow her Cosie would be there now...
'I can't let it pull the soul out again! I can't let Timmy take any more soul damage, not when we've finally faded the Stigmata, and not when he's so sick!'
Her voice, no, her counterpart's voice took over her thoughts, muting her own for several long moments, moments that left her feeling as if she were in a state of conscious nonexistence. She clutched her stomach, feeling the churning of nausea rise from deep within. She sputtered, feeling like she could throw up. Nothing but saliva came out, but the strength she had in her legs left her and she fell onto her two knees, gasping.
"Cosie….!" She called out desperately, calling his name in a feeble attempt to ground herself as another wave of her counterpart's thoughts and emotions prepared to overtake her own; but only silence echoed back at her, mocking her vulnerability and heightening her sense of isolation. Only the voices of her counterpart and a stranger reached her ears…no, it was coming painfully from inside her head!
"Piper, I need help! The Heart-soul! I tried to stop it, but it keeps crying and tugging on the cord!"
"Ok, ok, calm down, there is a barrier put over the nursery, it shouldn't have the strength to pull the Mind-Soul out again."
With a gasp, she crawled the rest of the way to her destination and pulled herself up onto the plush, gothic-styled couch her husband loved to spend many long hours lounging on with some boring, dusty book. There was never a time when she herself had used it, and yet the feeling of her husband's presence that lingered there made it feel familiar to her and yet, when she rolled over onto her back—she was no longer in her husband's study.
Instead she was inside of a vibrantly pink room, engaged in conversation with a tall, slender woman in her forties, dressed in a fluffy skirt and a jester blouse decorated with cake and cookie prints. She had fairy wings, but no crown, and even though she was not using magic, she somehow could just feel instinctively that she was an incredibly powerful person.
Her numerous braids, dyed red and white, intertwined to resemble candy canes, accentuating her bright, intricate makeup that contrasted sharply with her dark complexion. Her ruby eyes, peering out from behind red-framed glasses reminiscent of licorice twists, conveyed playfulness, intelligence, sternness, and coldness all at once.
This was not someone she knew—-no; that wasn't right… she knew her—-no, her counterpart knew her, this woman was a doctor….
"It's a good thing you called me right away; that little thing has really worked it's self into a tizzy. Well, it is a newborn soul. Can't expect it to behave rationally. It will be prone to tantrums just like all babies are. You just need to let it know who's boss. By the way, you did not touch the cord or interact too closely with the soul, did you?" The woman questioned her with a serious expression.
"I….no….I, I told the soul to stop, but it wouldn't, so I ran and pushed the button to call for your help." The words tumbled out of her mouth, like she was a puppet being moved by someone else. No…she….she wasn't being moved…she was speaking of her own free will…no…! No, she wasn't…this wasn't her!
She was….inside her counterpart's body? No, she was inside her husband's study…on the couch…! She wasn't wherever this place was! She did not want to be trapped inside her counterpart like this, being an observer with no control and whose sense of self was being eroded by the minute!
The overwhelming fear of disappearing felt as if it would consume every part of her that still belonged to her, and even that was starting to get mixed up with the fear her counterpart was experiencing over that Turner boy's soul.
'Please, Cosie, get back here soon, won't ya….help me….I don't wanna disappear….!' She pleaded with what few thoughts she was allowed, as her counterparts thoughts took priority as they raced with fears and concerns over that stupid buck tooth—sweet little boy…mommy's poor sick angel.
The image of the pink room blurred and slowly began dissolving, perhaps the conflicting thoughts had been enough to snap her out of it, bringing her back to herself, but she could tell it wouldn't last long, already the senses, thoughts and emotions of her counterpart were beginning to close in on her again.
Desperation consumed her, the need to escape the torment overwhelming. She wanted to scream, to release the pent-up frustration and confusion that threatened to suffocate her. But even her voice seemed to betray her, trapped within the confines of her constricted throat.
As tears streamed down her face, she curled herself into a tighter ball, seeking solace in the safety of the familiar couch and the scent of her husband's cologne that clung cloyingly to its cushions; the rugged warmth of leather and wood, accented by fresh spicy notes and an underlying hint of animal musk. She breathed it in, trying to take the comforting smell of him inside of her, hoping it would chase off the intrusion of her counterpart. She'd latch onto whatever she could to prevent herself from being swept away again, but there was no escape from the relentless assault on her senses.
The study was fading away from her eyes, its image being eaten away and replaced with the blue and yellow walls of what looked like a baby's nursery room.
"Hey, now, you're acting like a little boggart, you know!" The woman with the braids was tapping her foot angrily as she stood in front of a cage containing a tiny, sparkling butterfly.
'…My poor boy's heart is crying so much….the poor baby…' These words were spoken in her voice, in her own mind, but these were not her thoughts…she did not understand all this talk about Hearts and Souls, and this pain she felt in her chest, this…overwhelming love…she had no such feelings for her counterpart's godchild, and yet….these emotions, these thoughts felt….right, they felt comforting…..
And that terrified her.
She stood in a corner of the room, trapped in her counterpart's body, watching the tiny soul inside the cage get scolded as it clutched the red-cord, its bottom lip trembling in response to the harsh tone that was being taken with it. It was making a series of chiming noises which she couldn't understand, but could tell sounded distressed and desperate.
"Yeah, well, you can sob all you want. You can't go back in and you can't have him for company." The doctor crossed her arms, unmoved. "You let that cord go."
She watched, feeling an anxiousness she did not understand as the soul whimpered and pulled the cord closer to it, she couldn't understand what it was saying, but by how it clutched the cord close, it made it clear that it did not want to let go.
"Drop it; last chance." The woman pointed, warningly, using a no nonsense tone. "If you don't, by the count of three, I'm going to go get some Soul-Soothing incense and believe me—-it's not as relaxing as it sounds, I burn that in front of you, and your not gonna like it."
"Sweetie…!" The body she was in rushed over to the cage and dropped on her knees beside it; it wasn't her who was rushing to comfort the creature; she did not want to go anywhere near it. "I know you're lonely and upset, but you need to leave Timmy's Mind-soul where it is, ok? So stop tugging on that. You'll hurt him, so…let go of it…."
"Back away! I told you not to get too close! It's dangerous when they're upset like this!" The doctor quickly, with a wave of her hand, knocked her backwards with a blast of magic. It did not hurt, nor did it feel as if it were supposed to. "Don't think you're safe just because you're a fairy. Humans might be weak, but their souls aren't, especially when they're upset."
"But…you…" Her voice stammered out, and she could feel her face turn hot with her counterpart's embarrassment and frustration.
"I'm a Fey and my special power is possession, so I have a load more resistance to psychic attacks than you have." She rolled her eyes at her, scorning her for even asking about something she apparently thought should have been obvious. She did not know a lot of things, and she never got upset when her lack of even common knowledge got pointed out to her, so when she felt a flush of hot indignation and shame overcome her at the remark it was jarring—her vision flickered and she found herself back in her husband's study…or at least, partially back….she could still see the nursery every time she blinked and the emotions and thoughts of her counterpart continued to spill into her.
Her mind felt like a fragile vessel on the verge of shattering, unable to withstand the weight of the intrusive thoughts and foreign emotions.
"Wha' won't it jes' stop...?" She thought desperately, and hoping to silence her counterpart, did her best to drown her thoughts out with her own; clinging desperately to her sense of self, hoping against hope that she would find an anchor to hold on to that could bring her back to herself and push her counterpart far away from her.
…Her husband or her son, either of them, or better both—if they'd come here, if they were by her side, they'd be able to bring her back to herself.
…But they weren't here. She was alone…
….No…not alone….Timmy was—-
She whimpered. The more her counterpart's love for that stupid human child spilled into her, the more her sense of self seemed to slip further and further away.
The nursery room began to eat away at the edge of her vision once more, encroaching upon the scenery of her husband's study. She clutched the couch for all she was worth, gripping the cushions so tightly that her fingers tore through it—she did not want to go back to that nursery, she wanted to stay where she was, but despite her struggle, the familiar surroundings of her home vanished once more, and she was once again a silent spectator in her counterpart's body; unable to exert any will or voice of her own.
"Aww, Astral, baby….don't cry." She was sitting right in front of the cage, completely ignoring the doctor's advice. She was alone in the nursery right now; but somehow knew that the doctor would return soon with the soul soothing incense. She did not want to be anywhere near that thing in the cage, but the choice was not hers.
Her hand lovingly stroked the bars of the cage, as the creature inside cried, holding the red cord as if it were a teddy bear.
"Astral, maybe if you let go of that and calm down before Piper comes back, she won't need to use that incense, ok? So, so let's just be a good baby and…."
The thing in the cage stopped crying and looked straight at her, meeting her eyes.
"Uuuaa!" She cried out as she was pushed out of her counterpart's body by what felt like an impossibly powerful force, but she was not safely back in her husband's study, furthermore, her body was completely transparent.
"Oh gosh! Wha's... Wha's wrong with my hands!? I'm all see-through-ish!"
Teetering on the brink of panic, she examined herself thoroughly. Her entire being seemed to lack substance, as if she were composed of mist. Yet, despite the insubstantial nature of her form, the absence of her counterpart's thoughts and emotions had her feel much more stable than she had felt earlier.
She looked around herself and recognized it as Timmy's bedroom, she had been here before—when trying to kidnap that godchild to get Nana Boom Boom's brownie recipe out of his head.
"Well dang! Wha's up with all this freaky decor? I mean, I got a spiky ball thing on my bathroom wall, an' a pit with spikes under my front door mat, an' I'm findin' this here downright unsettlin'." She shuddered as she looked around the boy's bedroom, which had gone through a rather dramatic makeover since the last time she had seen it.
There were multiple jump ropes hanging from the ceiling, tied and fashioned into nooses, and in each noose was a doll, roughly the size of a Barbie, swinging back and forth inside of them, playing on them as if they were swings.
She recognized two of the dolls as Mr. and Mrs. Turner, and assumed that the other dolls must've been other people that the Turner boy knew. To be honest, she wasn't aware of most of the people in that boy's life, as she and her husband had only paid mind to that buck tooth kid whenever he caused some problem for them.
The walls were adorned with hundreds of framed photographs, each immortalizing a moment of a wish gone wrong. Affixed to the bathroom door was a poster featuring the Turner child, emblazoned with 'The worst godchild ever' in large, sparkling letters. The room's entryway was secured with thick chains and sturdier locks. A life-sized effigy of the boy lay on the bed, its abdomen torn open, revealing a cascade of pills amidst the cotton innards. Seated on the bed, her counterpart held the doll tenderly, tears streaming down her face.
"Hey! You there! Jes' whatcha think yer doin' to me!? I tell ya, quit puttin' yer thoughts and feelin's in my head an' mixin' up my thinkin', I'm feelin' like a berry in a blender!"
Her sniffling counterpart paid her no heed as she continued to rock the rag doll in her arms. She clenched her teeth, frustrated.
"Don't ya go ignorin' me, not after all ya done put me through—!" She grabbed Wanda's arm, and something akin to a lightning bolt ran through her, freezing her and a flood of sensory information threatened to overload her mind.
The images on the wall sprang to life; her counterpart's voice sharply scolded and chastised the child within the frame for each mistake, while Wanda's present thoughts, as she sat weeping over the doll in bed, echoed in response to her past self—countless sentences spoken and intermingling in her mind simultaneously.
"You did not even think for a moment of the consequences wishing yourself into an adult could bring before you did it."
"Every kid makes that wish. That's why we orchestrate that lesson to teach them to cherish their childhood. There's no need to berate him…."
"You were so vague in making that wish that the video game you had us grant you could have gotten you or your friends killed!"
"That was my fault. He just wanted an exciting video game, like any little boy would. Cosmo and I were the ones who went too far with it."
"Yeah, just wish for an alien. No thought to safety and once again put yourself and your friends in danger."
"He just wanted an alien to play with; he meant for us to poof up a fake, toy one. We're the ones who poofed up a real one because we're not good at making aliens. We're the fault of this one going wrong, not him."
"Did you really think that bringing a dinosaur to show and tell would NOT attract attention? Now your teacher is onto us!"
"But we're the ones who suggested that show and tell. We told him it would be a good idea and get him a good grade. He trusted us. We're the ones who made the mistake here…."
"Great, now the poor Crimson Chin is suffering an existential crisis! Did you never think about how he'd feel before you made your wish?"
"But every child wants to meet their hero…."
"Swapping bodies with a dog? Really? Timmy, you really need to think things through and consider everything that might happen before you make a wish!"
"…He just wanted to be treated well by his babysitter."
"You're being a real selfish little brat wishing for all these material things just to show off to the popular crowd!"
"He was just so desperate to be accepted by his peers; and every child gets carried away sometimes…besides, look at who he has as role models; he was just copying the behavior of his parents….but, he learned his lesson all on his own…mistakes like this need to happen so that kids can grow as people."
"If you could just focus on your schoolwork, then none of us would've had to of gotten eaten by Vicky!"
"Now that is so unfair! We're the ones who made him the shrink suit! Plus, we're the ones who got careless and gobbled up by Vicky…"
"If you had just cleaned properly instead of wishing for heat vision, none of this mess would have even happened!"
"Kids will get up to mischief, it's all part of being a kid…and it's Cosmo's fault for tempting him with heat vision in the first place! That's like dangling a fish in front of a cat and getting mad at the cat for eating it."
"You ought to have owned up to being the one who made Chompy go away right from the beginning!"
"How he freed Chompy was so sweet, and besides, Vicky was being so mean to him. He probably figured it served her right, and anyway, he feared getting in trouble. And how often do the people of Dimmsdale look at him positively? Should he really be faulted for hesitating?"
"What were you thinking, wishing everybody looked the same!? Do you know how much trouble you caused!?"
"Its not like he knew fairies exploded from magical backup if they couldn't find their god kids to grant wishes! Besides, we're magic. He must've thought we'd have some way to tell our kids apart, even if they all looked the same. Anyway…think about WHY he made the wish! The poor thing was being picked on because of his teeth. He was feeling insecure and, rather than boost his self esteem, Cosmo just made the remark that his teeth were silly looking! If we had tried to make him feel better rather than pour salt in the wound, he wouldn't have made that wish!"
"Most kids are satisfied with one Christmas a year, but you just had to go ahead and wish for more. Now look at the fine mess we're in!"
"That one is really on Jorgen! I mean, a Holiday with no school, good food, family togetherness, and lots of presents—it was only a matter of time before a kid wished every day was Christmas! There should have been a rule in place from the very beginning to prevent it considering the circumstances! Why blame Timmy for Fairy World's own oversight? It was actually a good thing Timmy was the one who made that wish because he had the guts to fix things. Another kid might not have been able to fix it!"
She ripped her hand from off of her counterpart's shoulder, her head splitting. From the way Wanda trembled in the bed, still clutching the doll, she was probably trapped in a clash of laying blame and offering justification for every wish gone wrong that the child had ever made.
"Well shucks, that was as unpleasant as wrasslin' with a porcupine... Oh dang, now there's another one!" She moaned, seeing that there was now a second version of her counterpart in the room besides the one curled up in bed, crying over the doll. This one was desperately ripping down the jump-rope nooses and swinging dolls.
"You said yourself that he wasn't always the greatest friend." A doll with blonde hair and braces reminded as the noose he swung in was ripped down.
"Yeah, and he did not always make things easy for us!" Mrs. Turner's doll cheerfully spoke even as her noose ripped savagely from the ceiling and her doll tossed at the wall, where it crumpled in an unmoving heap.
"Your words, not ours!" Mr. Turner's doll reminded while Wanda paused in ripping down the jump rope nooses to wipe tears from her eyes.
"I bet he's happy to finally have an excuse for his poor grades and his slacking off." A bald doll in a blue sweater vest smugly declared. "As you said yourself, he never actually tried to apply himself…"
"Stop it!" This Wanda furiously pulled more and more dolls from off the ceiling, to make them turn quiet; her hands were shaking all over, her eyes darting around frantically as it looked from doll to doll, arguing with them. She was glad she couldn't feel her emotions or thoughts anymore. They were probably overwhelming and painful. "I did not say those things trying to hurt him! I was trying to guide him—to—to help him! It wasn't to validate the awful things you people are saying to him! I—! I was trying to help! That's all I was trying to do!"
"Wow... Is this how things are goin' for that Turner kid? Makes me feel sorry for him—even without my counterpart messin' with my brain parts." She felt a touch of pity for the boy; it wasn't an emotion that came from her counterpart, but from her own heart.
"Yeah, and his obsessive tendencies would freak anybody out; why should I be blamed for treating him like a pest when he acts like one?" A pretty doll with long black hair remarked, rolling her eyes.
"He should just be happy that he has someone who is willing to love him, faults and all, so he really should appreciate my affection for what it is. After all, no other girl will ever love him." Another doll with cat-eye glasses twisted a pigtail around her finger as she spoke with a self-satisfied smirk.
"That's NOT what I said to him! I did not mean it in that way! I'd NEVER say that!" She watched as Wanda tore those two laughing dolls from their ropes and threw them with such force against the wall that they broke. She gasped as the two versions of Wanda in the room abruptly vanished, and the bedroom returned to normal…
No. Not normal. It was dark and was empty of anything and everything that could bring joy to a child. Timmy was in bed, this time, not a doll, and he had his face buried into his pillow, sobbing inconsolably. Her counterpart was there too, shuffling around the room with slumped shoulders and downcast eyes, still unseeing her. Nor was she paying any attention to her godchild, who was crying so wretchedly.
"Ain't ya gonna do somethin'? Yer not just gonna leave 'em that way, are ya?" She almost begged her counterpart, who just continued to wander aimlessly around the room. Feeling angry with her, she went over to the bed and sat down beside Timmy.
"There, there now—folks always said I was dumb as a box o' rocks, annoyin', a pain in the neck and all sorts of mean stuff; and I've done some real dumb things, even for someone as dumb as me, but y'know, it ain't nothin' to cry over 'cause... if even someone like me could find someone to love me just the way I am, I reckon you will too." She patted the boy's back, feeling awkward. As an Anti-fairy she really ought not to be doing this, but…she had always hated seeing someone cry; she was sensitive to things like that. When she saw someone crying, it made her want to cry to, and she really did not like to cry. It made her eyes itchy. The boy did not respond to her words or touch but continued to cry.
"Maybe an Anti-fairy like me just ain't good at comfortin' kids..." She sighed, disappointed in the lack of results.
She watched as the Wanda pacing the room stopped in front of a pile of crumbled Crimson Chin comics. Wordlessly, she knelt down and tried to repair them, but they just continued to get crumbled up all over again.
"What are ya doin'? Fixin' them books won't help. Come over here and do somethin' to stop him from cryin'!" She yelled at her heedless counterpart, who was now standing in front of a bunch of torn up photos of Timmy standing with some other kids. Wanda began trying to piece the photographs back together, but neither the tape nor the glue she used would hold them together. As she watched, Wanda came across a ripped up scout uniform and attempted to sew it. She wondered what Wanda was hoping to accomplish by fixing these broken things when she should be focused on stopping the boy from crying so much.
"You're a real piece of work, ya know that?" she muttered to her counterpart, who remained oblivious to both her presence and, seemingly, to her suffering godchild, as well. She meandered around the room, pausing in front of various ruined objects, attempting futilely to repair them.
"Timmy..." Wanda finally whispered, her voice breaking as she came across a broken Christmas themed snow globe. She waited, hoping for her to finally come over to the bed and stop the boy from crying, but she stayed rooted to the spot, seemingly unable to bridge the gap between her and the boy who needed her so desperately.
"Ya see, this is the problem. Yer so wrapped up in yer own guilt and fear, ya can't even reach out to him. What good are ya like this?" She shook her head in frustration. "I ain't s'posed to be here, but look at me, tryin' to do yer job. Pathetic!"
Timmy's sobs grew louder, and in a fit of emotion, began to furiously scratch at his arms with his fingernails, drawing blood.
"Hey, hey, stop that, lil' one, don't go doin' things like that!" Her heart leapt as she tried to catch his hands to stop him from hurting himself, but, the moment she did so—he vanished from the bed as if he had never been there. She shook, her mind reeling. This—this wasn't something she ever faced before. She did not know what to do about it. It was the boy who had thwarted her husband so many times, so she really ought not to care, but….seeing him in such a way was heart-rending and it wasn't even because of her counterpart's emotions either.
She glanced back at her counterpart, who was now sitting on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest, lost in her own world of self-recrimination as she blubbered out incoherent apologies. It was a sorry sight, and it made her blood boil.
"Look at ya! You fairies are s'posed to be lookin' after god kids, but y'all bein' so useless. I can tell ya, if that Turner boy was with me and Cosie, we wouldn't just be sittin' around feelin' sorry for ourselves, we'd be doin' somethin'. I don't know what, 'cause I ain't smart, but Cosie, he'd know what to do. Even someone as dumb as me knows that what y'all doin' ain't gonna do squat." She spat, even though she knew Wanda couldn't hear her.
The bathroom door creaked open slowly, releasing a blinding light that pierced through the pitch darkness of the room. Wanda hastily rose to her feet, her voice trembling as she desperately called out her godchild's name, and hurried into the bathroom. An overwhelming sense of unease enveloped her as she stood outside, waiting for her counterpart to emerge. When she didn't, anxiety compelled her to cautiously approach and peek inside.
The bedroom had already been a horrifying spectacle, and even someone as intellectually challenged as she was could grasp the implications of that imaginary. There was undoubtedly nothing good to be found in that bathroom.
"Oh geez! I knew things in here were gonna be all weird-like, but come on now! My heart and brain can't handle much more of this! I mean, I'm an anti-fairy, but even I got limits to how much of the spooky stuff I can take!"
She shivered uncontrollably as she observed her counterpart sitting on the side of a bathtub filled with red-tinted water, tenderly cradling a cooing baby in her arms. It wasn't Poof, so she guessed it must've been a baby version of the Turner boy.
Wanda's arms and clothing were stained with the water as she gently dried off the baby. It would seem that the child had been lifted out of the overflowing tub of water….
She instinctively covered her mouth, feeling a wave of nausea wash over her. The baby... it was moving and making sounds, yet it appeared lifeless. Its lips and face were tinged blue, and its eyes were clouded with a hazy film.
She hurriedly ducked out of the dimly lit room, desperately avoiding any further sights. The atmosphere in that bathroom was suffocating. Just being in there made her feel as if she was about to be crushed by the weight of her own heart.
'I just wanna wake up; get outta of this place and—stress eat my entire kitchen when I do!' She thought tearfully as her mind raced with fear and anxiety.
A chilling creaking noise pierced the silence of the dark bedroom, sending shivers down her spine and making her glance towards the bed where the noise had come from.
With bated breath, she anxiously searched for the source of the sound. Suddenly, a pale hand emerged from the other side of the bed, its owner struggling to pull themselves back onto the mattress. It seemed innocent enough; the kid sleeping in the bed and simply rolled out of it — but if that was all it was, then what was causing the eerie creaking?
The answer revealed itself when a second hand, or rather, a bloody stump, appeared on the bed. Her instinct to scream was stifled as the rest of the person emerged from behind the bed and she gazed upon the disfigured form of the Turner boy.
His neck was twisted at an unnatural angle, his body marred by deep lacerations and broken bones. A gruesome, gaping hole in his chest shattered any hope of him being alive. He laboriously hoisted himself onto the bed, moving with a combination of difficulty and surprising speed. With missing limbs and an awkward shambling movement, he clumsily tumbled onto the floor once he reached the other side of the bed. The boy laid there in a tangled heap for a few seconds before continuing his relentless approach towards her.
Paralyzed by fear, she futilely covered her face with trembling hands, whimpering in desperation. Praying to find herself back in her husband's study before the abomination reached her, she shuddered as cold, lifeless flesh brushed against her leg. Summoning every ounce of courage, she peered through her fingers, realizing it was not coming for her, but rather heading into the bathroom. Relief washed over her, but it was quickly replaced by a new dread. If her counterpart was destroyed, she too would suffer the same fate.
Gathering her scattered wits, she hastily rushed back into the bathroom, determined to stop the creature from carrying what could only be ominous intentions. However, her heart sank as she heard Wanda's chilling words, spoken with maternal warmth, "Aw, my poor boy, so tuckered out... don't worry, mommy is going to take you to bed so you can get a nice, comfortable rest; all safe and sound in your blankets."
The lifeless baby was absent from Wanda's arms, now replaced by Timmy, seemingly peacefully asleep on her back. In that moment, he appeared like any ordinary sleeping child, but the implications of his bloodstained pajamas were far from reassuring.
'Ok, we're officially in crazy-world!' Her nerves were shot as she watched Wanda carry the sleeping child out of the bathroom; after taking a deep breath to calm herself, she followed and groaned when they did not emerge into the bedroom as they ought to have, but at the bottom of the stairs on the first floor of the Turner house.
"Enough! Enough—I done had 'nuff already!" She whimpered, staying at the bottom of the stairs as her counterpart headed up them, cheerfully humming a lullaby.
The room began to fill with a dense, suffocating smoke; slowly at first, then rapidly. The smoke made the air thick with a pungent smell that clawed at her senses, stinging her eyes and throat, and fogging up her head. Amidst the overpowering sharpness of the smell, there were fleeting hints of something sweeter, like a distant memory of a garden in bloom after rain. It was as if amidst the acrid smoke, threads of rosemary and lavender tried to soothe the burning in her throat, their gentle notes struggling to break through the oppressive veil. The sweetness, though faint, offered a faint glimmer of relief amidst the overwhelming onslaught to her senses.
She peered around for her counterpart, trying to peer through the dense smoke to see how she was faring; but she couldn't find her and then—-she heard a high pitch chime, like a scream and—-
"YOU IDIOT!" The woman with the braids was standing over her; she was inside the pink room again, standing a few steps away from the balcony. She was yanked into a sitting position by the doctor. "I told you not to get too close to it!"
"I…what…?" She spoke—no, her counterpart spoke. She was once more trapped as an observer in her counterpart's body with no ability to speak or move for herself.
"You have no idea of what you almost did, do you?" The doctor almost sneered down at her as she lifted the cage with the butterfly in it. The butterfly was laying at the bottom of the cage, making chiming sounds that sounded a lot like whimpers; its hand was still on the red cord, but it had no strength to pull on it anymore.
"What….? What I…?" Wanda appeared dazed; she could feel her confusion as if it were her own; heck, it was her own. She had no idea of what had just happened and she frankly had no desire to ever find out.
"If I did not return with that incense when I did, you'd have brought it right to your sleeping godchild and I don't think it would have been satisfied with just yanking out his Mind-Soul for company." The doctor sternly opened a door in the room. She could see the blue and yellow walls of the nursery inside. "If it gets back inside his heart, while the heart still has magic trapped in it, it'll become contaminated and will never be able to reincarnate as a human ever again."
"I…I had no idea what I was…!"Wanda clutched her hair in a panic, she could feel the horror at her actions ripple through her, and as her confusion cleared, the dread, pain, guilt and everything else she had experienced during that nightmare. "Piper, I…! I saw—! I…thought I was-!"
"I don't need an explanation." The woman, who was apparently named Piper, silenced her counterpart as she put the caged butterfly and a small pot of burning incense into the nursery.
"But…."
"I've dealt with this before, so I know what it was like." Piper's tone softened as she poofed up two cups of tea, handed one to Wanda and then flopped down crossed-legged on the floor in front of her. "What you endured was a form of Spirit-possession. A human soul can't enter a magical body, it repels them, however, they can make you hallucinate and make you do what they want. I know from your perspective, you were just carrying your god child to his bed, not bringing his Heart-Soul out into the garden."
"…Why would it show me all of those awful….." Wanda halted mid-sentence; the emotions welling up inside her made it clear that she was reluctant to continue not only because it was too painful to discuss but also because she lacked sufficient trust in this woman to share her experiences.
"It had to wear down your mental defenses in order to get you into a state vulnerable enough where it could control your actions. Look, Heart-Souls are pure emotion. They don't think about right/wrong. They're not like the Mind-Soul who can recognize friend from foe even when they're in an upset state. An angry Heart-soul will lash out at anyone and everyone to sooth it's pain and accomplish what it wants."
"No, I….I'm not mad at it. I….I could feel so much pain coming from it….it's so sad, so lonely….it…."
"Wanted you feel a taste of the suffering it was enduring." Piper finished the sentence not in the way Wanda would have, but probably in a way that was much more truthful. "What a rotten way to earn sympathy, right?"
"It—it wasn't—-" Wanda was trying to defend it's actions; she did not understand, why…? Why did her counterpart love it so much…? After what it made her endure, why wasn't there even a trace of anger?
"I'm not saying it's bad. Any other Heart-soul would have done the same thing, that's just how they are; when they're happy, all is sweet as sugar, when they're not—well, they're full on nightmare fuel."
'Got that right….' She thought sourly as her counterpart sipped a tea that she found absolutely disgusting but that her counterpart apparently found pleasing as she seemed to savor the beverage, breathing in the herbal, fruity scent, trying to calm her nerves.
"Is it…going to be ok?" Wanda asked, looking towards the nursery worriedly.
"It'll be fine, Soul-Soothing incense makes them feel weak and sick…but it doesn't hurt them. It's still refusing to let go of the soul-thread, though. If it tugs on it, you might see it appear again, but don't worry…it won't be able to do anything."
"…." Wanda just nodded; her head was too full of emotions and thoughts to respond; and she, who was stuck inside of her, feeling and thinking everything she was, found that everything was far too jumbled up for her to make any sense out of it.
"Hey…I'm just going to be honest here…" Piper sipped on her tea, glancing away awkwardly. "Because of my own power, I'm able to weaken possessions, so I tried to break the soul's hold over you—and I kinda saw…"
She felt her counterpart go cold, and she lowered her head, her face burning. The shame was so strong that it overtook all thought. She wasn't smart, so she hadn't fully understood everything she had seen, but one thing was clear-Wanda was blaming herself for what happened to her godson.
"Look, I will not ask questions. My area of expertise is physical aliments. That psyche stuff is Nova's territory."
"No, I'd... Umm…I'd rather not…promise you won't tell him about…."
"Yeah, I get it." Piper nodded in understanding, a dry expression on her face. "I promise, I won't say anything about it; if you wanna speak about it, I'll leave that up to you. To be perfectly frank, I'd rather be hung by my hair over a pit of scorpions than see how he'd react to hearing about it."
"…Thanks."
"Anyway, I tried to bring you around using my powers because snapping you out of a soul induced hallucination VIA soul-soothing incense, can cause a pretty bad bad case of Linking."
'Linking!? Is that why I'm stuck like this!?' Her mind raced while a sense of discomfort flowed through her counterpart.
"Linking….?"
"Just temporarily; heck, the energy produced by the angry soul would've been strong enough to cause any fairy around it to start Linking; it's a side effect of being around a living-soul. The effect is probably going to be doubled because you were ensnared in it's hallucination..."
"That's..." Wanda trembled with fear; she felt a surge of anger rise up inside of her. Look at her counterpart fearing just hearing about Linking when SHE was the one stuck inside of her as a prisoner!
"However, it's not like you broke any taboos or anything." Piper continued in a reassuring tone that was a touch flippant. "Even if the Linking is strong, it'll wear off, but you might have some personality traits, or likes/dislikes muddled up. You're still in shock, so how badly your case of Linking is won't really come to light until after you've calm down."
"How...bad are we talking about?"
"Dunno, but, I wouldn't let it trouble you too much. The halves with the rights to God Kids have dominance over their counterpart so, it's your anti-self that'll take a whooping out of this, not you. You might just-I dunno, like carrots over chocolate for a little while. Nothing to fret over."
The sense of relief that welled up inside of her counterpart made her want to hit her, and she would've if she had any ability to control the arms of the body she was stuck inside of. Piper laughed and finished the rest of her tea in one gulp.
"I heard from Stella's letters that your anti-self is kinda of a idiot, so maybe you'll get a bit dumber!"
"Ugh..." Wanda cringed whilst she fumed from inside of her. Wasn't it bad enough she was stuck inside of her counterpart's body, did she really have to listen to them insult her too? That was really just too much...
"Anyway, as I said, it's only temporary. It'll only last for a few hours, a day or two tops!" Piper gave her a grin and a thumbs up, and while Wanda seemed to feel better, her own heart cried out in misery.
Two days as a prisoner inside the body of her counterpart….at the mercy of her emotions and her thoughts, would be far more than what she could endure….
At Piper's insistence, Wanda went back out to where Timmy was sleeping in a Chinese styled garden. She was stuck watching from inside of her as she greeted the boy as her woke up, and then watched as the garden magically transformed it's appearance while she and the boy feasted on various foods and chitchatted. Several times she caught a weak, faint glimmer of the red cord and she felt her counterpart's alarm at the sight of it, not reassured by Piper's words that the sight of it was nothing to fear.
Wanda tried her best; but failed to hide her upset emotional state from the boy and was eventually forced to confess to a partial truth.
'Huh, that lacked so many details, it might as well of been a total lie.' She thought sourly as her counterpart shoved food into her face, eating so much that she was surprised neither she nor the boy burst.
Seemed her opposite wasn't so opposite of her, in her desire to stress eat after enduring that nightmare.
She could taste everything, but even the foods she found herself enjoying weren't able to be savored because really, who could enjoy anything trapped like a prisoner inside of someone else's body? She'd rather endure her husband's cooking, which was practically a form of torture, then enjoy even the yummiest of treats from inside someone else's body.
Eventually, the boy once again fell to napping after filling his belly with food. She felt her counterpart's body and mind begin to relax as she sipped on a cocktail, allowing the scenery of the festival, the comfort of the child sleeping peacefully nearby, and the strength of the alcohol to cloud her mind.
Meanwhile she struggled to maintain her focus, fighting off the haze overtaking both her and her counterpart's minds with all the strength she could muster. It felt as if she were in danger of vanishing entirely if she stopped concentrating on her own existence for even a moment.
'Oh Cosie….' It was getting harder and harder to form a coherent thought, the more her counterpart drank and relaxed, the deeper her sense of self seemed to sink in response, and with no anchor to hold too, it felt as if she really would just drift away. "...Why didn't y'all come wake me up...? I don't wanna...disappear."