#ft. cass a.

[faoighiche]

A Father's LEGacy | Cass & Burrow

PARTNER : @magmahearts TIMING : Current. LOCATION : The Leg. SUMMARY : While Cass and Burrow investigate the leg, Burrow investigates Cass herself. WARNINGS : Under skin.

There was a giant leg sticking out of the ground. Cass wasn’t really sure what to make of that. She’d asked her father, but even he had seemed caught off guard, though he didn’t share Cass’s curiosity. When you’ve been around as long as I have, Cassidy, some things take precedence. You’ll realize that someday. And so, she’d tried to mask her excitement. To make it smaller, to make herself smaller so that she might better fit the image Makaio might want of his daughter. 

Still, she wanted to see the leg. She knew he could tell, and she let herself think he was amused by it as she ducked out of the cave one morning. At the very least, she thought he’d probably approve of her choice of company today. From their conversations thus far, Cass got the feeling that her father, like most fae, preferred the company of other fae to anyone else when he wanted company at all. Burrow, she figured, would get along well with him. Burrow was a good nymph, one who did the things she was supposed to do. Eventually, Cass would introduce Burrow to Makaio, and he would approve.

But for now, she was going to touch the leg.

She met up with Burrow in their pre-arranged meeting spot, a precaution Cass had only begun to take since her father’s arrival at the cave. Flashing the other nymph a smile as she got close, she waved. “What do you think about the leg?” She asked in way of greeting. “Do you feel anything from it? Do your parasites? Have the fed on it at all?” Unlike the Abnormality, this felt closer to Burrow’s domain than her own.

Burrow waved to the rocks — jutting structures of the abnormality — and her reflections on them waved back. They cradled the recent oddity: the leg. The leg like a barren tree, whose branches were tipped with claws. Was this another part of the abnormality, piercing through the shell below? Was this one the abnormality wanted to claim, its pieces circling it like teeth? Questions she could not answer because of the humans. They put up fences and signs and demands for payment. She observed the humans — watching their patterns and finding where their numbers were always slim. That is when she returned, chasing the humans who remained with the buzzing of her wasps and the bite of her phantom ticks. Finally, alone. Free to inspect the leg… and Cass.

Burrow knew the stranger lurking in the cave was not a passing visitor. They were still there when she sent her flies in her stead. The flies did not understand language but they did know tone. Cass and the stranger had spoken with gentle words. Their faces had been serene. They were familiar with each other, of soul and body. The stranger was chiseled in Cass’ image, seeping with the same molten blood. Observations implied they were kin, yet why was Cass not rejoicing? It was no secret that Cass yearned for family, so why was this stranger a secret? There must be something she was missing. 

A thing Burrow would discover, in time, as she waved Cass closer. “I think the leg is… interesting. I do not feel anything from the leg. My kin have not claimed it.” So large, so inviting, so befitting of homing thousands of her precious ones. Yet it was absent of their pleasant touch. She would touch it for them — determine if it was worthy of their taking. She pried her fingers under the scales, but they resisted her intrusion. Her fingers split into separations that ran down her palms. They extended and curled and lost any memory of joints and bone. They became tendrils that bore into the flesh. It tasted… wrong. A corruption that made her quiver. She leaned forward, licking at what she could of the exposed skin. It gave her a full taste of the disgusting rot. She immediately pulled away, spitting on the ground. “The leg is nasty.” As her tendrils retracted back into fingers, she looked to the bits of the abnormality surrounding them. “You can have it.” Maybe it could give this rotten thing some use.

She hadn’t told her father where she was going, which was rare now. In the beginning, when he’d first arrived, she’d filtered in and out of the cave with little more than greetings and fond words of departure, but lately she’d felt the need to update him in on her comings and goings. She wasn’t sure why, didn’t understand the desire to make sure he always knew where she was. Maybe it had been a few comments he’d made here and there, or maybe she just thought it was what you were supposed to do with your parent. Regardless, she felt a little guilty about the way she’d sauntered out of the cave without an explanation today. Would he be more disappointed in her for that than he would have been if she’d told him where she was headed? He’d like Burrow if he met her, Cass was sure of it. When he was ready to meet people, she thought, Burrow would be the first one she’d introduce him to. They’d get along. She knew they would.

But for now, there was a leg to touch. Cass was more excited about it than she’d been about anything in a while now, especially out in the open where she didn’t feel the need to stifle her enthusiasm. She wanted to see what the big deal was, wanted to figure out how it worked, wanted to know what Burrow knew about it the same way Burrow had wanted to know what she knew about the Abnormality. She liked listening to what Burrow had to say. It was always interesting, even if it sometimes didn’t make sense.

And so, the excitement in her chest bubbled and built as she approached her friend, moving in closer when Burrow ushered for her to do so. She watched Burrow inspect the leg, tried not to make a face as she licked at it. This was part of Burrow’s process, she thought. Still, Cass wasn’t surprised when Burrow proclaimed the leg to be nasty, wrinkling her nose as she leaned in to press her palm against it. “I don’t think I can do anything with it, either,” she replied. It wasn’t stone; that much was certain. “So it won’t help your parasites? Won’t feed them?”

Cass appeared as her usual self: bubbly and bright and blazing. As warm and ignited as the magma hidden below her skin. The stranger, whoever they may be, had no effect on that flame. The appearance of it, at least. Just as the skin hid molten rock, Burrow wondered if that smile hid something else. She knew how easily all things were concealed. Even joys; even troubles. As she looked to the surrounding bits of the abnormality, her swarm of reflections were also familiar. Her dark eyes stared back, steady and without strain. Absent of the failure she was becoming: a parasite who took too much. Death rarely served her, and the death of the salted one was no different. It’s only purpose was to show she was not yet ready to give her parasites their home. She was not the guardian they deserved. 

Even as Burrow remembered her mistakes, remembered how she faltered at protecting her kin, her reflections did not betray her. She continued to stare, strainless. Soon, her insides would match, when those feelings drifted back into nothing. Until that peace, she focused on her kin dwelling inside her. What wisdom did they offer? There was a unanimous chorus of hatred and disgust. Bad leg, rotten leg, nasty, nasty, nasty. Such wise words. “No. The leg is… rotten. The leg is disgusting.” She spit away more of its remnants in her mouth. A bath was due in her near future. “My kin would die if they ate the leg.” The leg was useless to them, but it did not mean it was without use. Her eyes flickered back to the rocks, to her reflections, before returning to Cass. “Does the abnormality want the leg?” 

Burrow hated the leg, so Cass decided she hated it, too. It was a silly thing, a crutch she no longer needed to lean on. Her father had been trying to remind her of it, when it came to her friends. If they care for you, you won’t need to pretend. You can be who you are, you can be my daughter. If they love you, they won’t leave. And if they leave, they do not love you. It was good advice, but privately, she wondered why he was hiding if he believed it. Privately, she wondered if he feared her friends wouldn’t accept him, if he was just as insecure as she was. If he voiced it, she would have reassured him just as he reassured her. If they like me, they’ll like you, too, she’d tell him. We’re the same, aren’t we? Anyone who loves me should love you, and anyone who hates you must hate me, too. She would have told him this if he’d asked, but he didn’t and so she thought it silently instead. She reminded herself of it, became convinced of its accuracy. If her friends loved her, they should love the man who made her, too. And if they didn’t…

Family was what was important, wasn’t it? And she’d found hers now. Her father wouldn’t leave her, so how could Cass ever leave him? She’d never been the one to walk away before; she certainly wasn’t going to start now.

“Then they shouldn’t eat it,” she replied firmly, because she didn’t want Burrow’s parasites to die. Burrow would be sad, wouldn’t she? If that happened, Burrow would be sad, and Cass didn’t want that. She wanted Burrow to be happy and safe and okay and here. And if the last one felt the most important, she wouldn’t confess to it. It seemed a heavy thing to say. “I don’t know if the Abnormality wants the leg or not. I think… the Abnormality usually wants everything. So maybe it does. Or maybe it thinks the leg is nasty, too.”

Burrow nodded in agreement. An acceptance that brought a frown. “It is unfortunate they should not eat it. The leg could be the mighty host.” Instead, the thing was an apartment full of black mold. All those empty and waiting rooms were stacked coffins in disguise. It was cruel to tempt them all with that buffet of flesh and tissue. So many spoils for so many of her kin — so many that they could never take too much. Which was not a concern, for her kin knew better than to do such a thing. “Perhaps it is for the best. The leg attracts… too many of the humans.” The sight of the humans was a death sentence. They always boasted about helping those poor and sick hosts. What about them? What about her lovely kin? The humans would probably choose this rotten thing over her beautiful worms. No one ever chose her beautiful worms. 

“I hope the abnormality does not think the leg is nasty. I hope the abnormality will make the leg useful.” Burrow did not want nature to reclaim it. That rot would return to the cycle, seeping into the soil to sprout more putrid hosts. More cruel things to tempt her parasites. At least when the abnormality stripped the lands into that hungry emptiness, too hungry for her parasites to survive, it was for a purpose. A purpose she did not know, but she hoped to find out. 

A discovery that rested in the future. The present offered Burrow a more reasonable discovery: who was in Cass’ cave? A question she wanted to ask outright, but she had learned that secrets were best claimed by delicacy or force. She had no desire to ever harm Cass. So, she would start with a prick. “How is your cave?” 

“It seems like a waste,” Cass agreed. It was sad, in a way. There was this thing here, and it was huge. It could feed so many of Burrow’s parasites, could sustain them for so long, but it was inedible. It couldn’t be claimed by her, and Cass couldn’t think of any other fae that could make use of it, either. So, what was it here for? For some humans to set up camp in front of it, charge money to other humans just to touch it? That wasn’t what nature was for. Her father, she knew, would find this distasteful. And so Cass, in an effort to be someone he would approve of, found it distasteful, too. It seemed Burrow agreed, and she was glad for that. It meant Makaio would like her, when it was time to introduce them. “Humans don’t know how to leave things alone sometimes,” she added, wrinkling her nose a little. It wasn’t a stance she used to have, but she was finding she believed in it more and more now.

But maybe there was still some use for the leg. If the Abnormality could claim it the way Burrow’s parasites couldn’t, if it could absorb it and make something of it, wouldn’t that be good? Wouldn’t it be better, at least, than humans using it as a tourist trap? “Maybe it’ll be good for the Abnormality.” Wasn’t that something she wanted? For the Abnormality to have something good?

At Burrow’s question, Cass found herself smiling a little. It was a genuine expression, a happy one. “Great,” she replied, the word just as honest as the smile. She was so happy with her dad in her cave; happier than she’d been in such a long time, happier than she’d thought she knew how to be at all. “It’s been really good lately.”

If only the humans were alone in their harm against Burrow. “The fae also do not know when to leave things alone.” That slap felt crueler, for the fae were things of nature. They followed its call, yet denied her place amongst its cycle. They thought they could tear her out like a weed, but weeds always came back — larger and hungrier. A weed that would strangle them all. No one cares or likes my parasites, that bitter thought returned to her. It had clung to her the day she was born. But as she glanced at her companion beside her, she felt the words shift. “Not many care or like my parasites.” A grievance she never bothered to bring to the fae. What was the point in complaining to the knife? It would not stop it from twisting inside her. But Cass also knew that knife. The two bore twin scars like birthmarks from its cut. They were cousins of that pain, which is why she liked Cass’ company. Shared pain was easier to bear.

The abnormality, too, was a cousin. A fellow taker. A fellow thing feared and misunderstood. Even its name showed that nature: abnormality. Burrow nodded in agreement. She also wanted the abnormality to have something good, even if she did not agree with its tastes. The rot still stung her tongue.

The stranger did not seem to sting. Their presence had not tainted the sanctuary of the cave. Perhaps they even enhanced the experience. So, why were they absent from Cass’ lips? People always liked to babble about good things; sometimes Burrow could not get them to stop. What was she missing? She must prick further — pry underneath and seek her entry. If only the act was as easy as the metaphor. Her tendrils were made to take the spoils of blood and chyme, not of knowledge. Her tongue hesitated as she selected her words. “Are the things that are inside your cave also ‘good’?”

Cass knew, better than most, how true Burrow’s words were. She’d been cast out by fae — the same fae who had cast her father out a generation before her. The sting of it hurt worse than the sting of the humans who were afraid of her, because weren’t fae supposed to get it? Cass met other nymphs who loved people just because they were fae, nymphs like Teagan who called her cousin and were overjoyed at the sight of her, at the feeling of butterflies in the stomach that came with seeing someone like you. That hadn’t been Cass’s experience for the longest time. And it hadn’t been Burrow’s, either. Selfishly, she found some comfort in that. She wasn’t the only one who’d been cast out — Burrow had, too. So had Makaio. And if she loved the both of them, didn’t she have to admit that this meant the person being cast out wasn’t the problem? If Burrow and Makaio were good, didn’t that make Cass good, too? 

“I like your parasites,” she said, and she meant it. “I care about them.” She cared about them because Burrow did, because when something was important to someone you loved, you made it important to yourself, too. Cass would love what Burrow loved. Cass would love what Makaio loved. And, in return, both of them would love Cass. Wasn’t that the only thing she’d ever really wanted? Wasn’t this town good for giving it to her? 

Burrow’s question was a little confusing. Cass wasn’t sure she understood the phrasing of it. She’d grown used to Burrow’s careful way of talking, the way she chose her words. There was always some comfort in it, in a way, because it was so entirely Burrow. The question was confusing, but Cass untangled the words in her mind with a concentrated furrow to her brow before nodding. “Yes,” she said. “Things that are inside my cave are also good. There is nothing bad inside my cave. There were before, when the crystals and goo were all over, but not now. Everything that’s inside my cave now is there because I want it there, and it’s good.”

It was still so strange to hear that. That a fae of all things cared about her kin. As the years threw more bile upon her from what were supposed to be her family, Burrow yearned for apathy. At least then, the weight of the pile would not grow. She never expected a fae to want to remove that weight. She stared at Cass, a smile forming hesitantly. A smile that never truly formed, because the weight was still there. It would always be there. Why did it have to be there? Cass made it look so easy. She said the words so effortlessly: I care about them. She had yet to know Burrow for a full year, yet cared more than those who had been there since her birth. Why did it have to be there? Even in such a happy moment, the bile ruined it. The fae, as always, ruined it. They had left their stain on her — one she did not know how to remove. Her smile twitched, unsure of what to do. She looked back to the leg.

The stranger possessed none of that complexity. They were not tainted. They were good, that was no longer a question. Burrow needed to meet this stranger: the reason for her friend’s smile. Such a secret should be shared, indulged, and enjoyed. Had it been kept from her because of her nature? Cass knew she took what she wished, but in this instance, her hands did not ache to claim. The stranger would not know her taking. They would not know what it meant to be chosen, completely, by her vines. They would not know how her vines were only satisfied when they took everything, even life. No. The stranger made Cass happy, so their presence was more useful in the cave. “I assume that means the fae in your cave is the good presence? I saw them, when…” I took the life of the salted one. I took more than I meant. I took more than I needed. “... I needed to see you.” 

It was selfish, but there was some part of Cass that liked the fact that Burrow, like her, had been cast out from the aos si she’d been born into. She’d never say it aloud, never voice the terrible thought, but it lurked in the back of her mind all the same. She’d never had someone who understood her experience the way Burrow did and now, with both Burrow and Makaio in her life, she had two people who got it. She never thought she’d be so lucky.

So… she didn’t panic the way she probably should have when Burrow revealed that she knew about Cass’s father in her cave. If Burrow understood her, and her father understood her, didn’t it stand to reason that the two would understand each other, too? Of all her friends, Burrow was the one Cass most believed Makaio would get along with. Burrow knowing about him was definitely a shock, but… maybe not a bad one. Cass glanced around carefully, looking at the leg for a moment. Could it hear them? She pulled Burrow a few steps away just in case. “You can’t tell anyone,” she said lowly. “But… he’s my dad. He found me a little while ago. He’s been looking for me all this time, you know? He’s a good presence. Definitely. And he — I really think he’ll like you, too. He’s just… not ready to meet anyone yet. I think he’s scared of people, a little.”

He’s my dad. Burrow had suspected. The two had been weathered by the same winds, formed by the same lava that still glowed through the cracks. It was so obvious. Yet, despite the logic and previous assurances, her chest seized at the reveal. Her mind flashed with images — faces that clung to her like a stain. Sneering, frowning, glances away, all carved into the folds of her brain. Expressions that did not match what she had seen in the cave. The stranger, the father, had looked to Cass with full attention. He had not looked away. He had not ignored. The connection to Cass frayed a bit at the edges, for they were not as similar as she had once believed. Cass’ father wanted her — Cass’ father was good. It was correct to have kept this all a secret, because she did want to take. She wanted to claim that love of a father. She wanted to know how it felt.

Burrow could bind him. She would bind him. Tie him to herself, with the same bow she was joined to Cass. Then, the two of them would be cousins again. They would share. A rare blessing from one who only took for herself, but she made exceptions for her kin. The claws of her past no longer pierced her chest. It returned to its proper time, releasing her to her usual calm. All the while, she continued to stare, strainless. “Ok. I will not tell anyone.” She only had Teagan to tell, and it would still be a time before she rejoined the nix. Her vines had tasted the sweetness of nymph’s blood — they might crave more. But the father was made of the same molten rock as his child. Burrow may try to take his heart, but never his body. He would be safe. They would both be safe. “I want to meet him.”

Something flashed across Burrow’s face, and Cass felt her heart fracture just a little. She knew that Burrow had issues with her own father; she understood that. But part of her had thought — had hoped that Burrow would be happy for her and the relationship she was building with hers. Weren’t friends supposed to be happy for you when it came to things like this? Weren’t they supposed to laugh when you laughed and cry when you cried? Cass shifted her weight, uncertain as she held her breath and waited for Burrow to speak, waited for her to prove that she was still a friend, even if the feelings were complex.

When she did, when she agreed not to tell anyone and requested to meet Makaio, it felt like the world was righted. Cass smiled, relief flooding her. It had only been a moment. It had been a moment of uncertainty, but Burrow was happy for her. Burrow was happy for her, and her other friends would be, too. They would rejoice with her. Makaio would come to dinner at Metzli’s, would watch movies with Ariadne. She could have both. She would get to keep both. This was proof of that. “Let me ask him,” she said softly. “Let me ask him, and then you can meet him. He’ll like you. I know he will.” Makaio would like Burrow and Burrow would like Makaio and Cass would have her cake and eat it, too. It would be good. Everything would be good. She knew it.

Burrow liked the way Cass smiled. She had tried to mimic it before. Her own never matched its brightness, still flickering at the edges. Still, she did try. At the sight of a new one, her lips curled like its echo. Small, faded, and distorted. “Ok. He will like me.” By the power of their words, the ones who spoke the truth, it would be true. That truth eased her. It meant the bind on him would settle easier. She preferred when the hosts did not struggle. “I think I will like him.” A statement she never thought she would utter, back when she believed Cass’ family was much like her own. The type to scorn their own blood for the crime of existing. But the stranger in the cave was nothing like the ones who had left her, writhing in the muck of humanity. They were in the muck together, shielded by their stones. They had made their own sanctuary. It seemed almost too good to be true. But Cass assured her that the stranger was good — that he would like her. So, she believed it. Everything was good.

#wickedswriting #thread #thread : cass #ft. cass a. #under skin tw

[silentgrim]

across the simblrverse...

@gunthermunch

#flew all the way to ai's house and stole her sims #ts4 #ts4 edit #sim: cassandra goth #ft. cass by gunthermunch #ft. wg by gunthermunch #ft. don by okruee #dying for the day wiggles meets donaldo in ai's story

[peaceandgentletragedy]

Something that might happen if you get too comfy having a BrothorbTM

Just saw @somerandomdudelmao drop the next update.

See you there :)

Edit: Saw the update, am overjoyed at the return of the little mug dweller.

#Brother Ball #ft. Leo continuing to be almost accidentally cannibalized #the littlest guy #don’t leave the BrothorbTM in the fruit basket #Raph missed fruit in the apocalypse #somerandomdudelmao #rottmnt #cass fanart tag #rise donatello #rise leo #rise mikey #rise raph #disaster twins

[clarisse-doodles]

Cass + ballet 🩰 (ft. supportive siblings and good dad Bruce)

I love the idea of Cass enjoying dance. It's an outlet that allows her to express herself without words, and I think she would enjoy the highly technical aspect of ballet combined with its storytelling and emotional side. and as a former dancer I always have fun imagining my fav characters do ballet :)

#ft good older bro dick grayson. and supportive babs and steph. and good dad bruce #sewing pointe shoes in the batcave as one does #cass jus having fun #dick and cass bonding over how they both enjoy stretching and falling asleep in the strangest positions #the rite of passage of trying pointes for the first time #bruce watches her first performance and she gives him a big hug #listen yall when i saw that comic panel of cass seeing ballet for the first time and the way it just Made Sense to her #i havent been normal since #i also just love the idea that eventually cass decides to take lessons and makes friends and learns things she'd never considered because #i think she'd be able to replicate most of the steps just by watching because of her training but she would be coming from #a background focused on martial arts and fighting and not. art and storytelling #and i'd love to see that being explored more. cass using her athletic skillset in something so unrelated to vigilante life #creating beauty instead of causing violence #clearly i've thought about this too much #if you have fic recs PLEASE GIVE THEM TO ME #i haven't read a lot of comics either outside of the first half of cass' batgirl run so recs for comics abt cass welcome as well! #clarisse doodles #dc #cassandra cain #batfam #batgirl #black bat #dc fanart #ballet

[pansy-picnics]

when ilmaris an adult they end up traveling around a bit like cass did, but when varian and hugo eventually retire theyll be the one to take over the library while emery will leave to continue studying medicine :3

#pansy-art #tangled kids #rapunzels tangled adventure #tangled the series #vat7k #varian and the 7 kingdoms #varian and the seven kingdoms #emery #ilmari #varian #vat7k hugo #vat7k donella #uknighted dream #eugene fitzherbert #tangled cassandra #ruddiger #olivia #varian and hugo are very happy to have someone else to infodump to bc emery doesnt care abt anything they say #donella finds that ilmari reminds her a lot of her youth #ft mom cass (and eugene) #hugo rottewange

[lilypads17]

you know his kids drag him to a restaurant so they can sing 2 him every year

#ft long haired dick propaganda #dc comics #batman #bruce wayne #damian wayne #cassandra cain #dick grayson #richard grayson #dc robin #black bat #cassandra wayne #cass cain #nightwing

[borderlinegerard]

decided to start posting my art on main... be nice you guys. say hi to cass

#ft mcr lyrics #doodles #cass cain #cassandra cain #cassandra wayne #cass #orphan #orphan dc #batgirl #batgirl cass #batgirl cassandra cain #batgirl cassandra #batgirl 2000 #batman #batfam #batfamily #batgirls #bat girls #bat girl #dc #dc comics #batman comics #dc art

[troubledconstellations]

@mischiefxmuses for percy / maybe if they'd actually been paying attention to their surroundings instead of trying to figure out why their phone wasn't working, cassandra wouldn't have ran straight another person, sending their phone to the ground as they stumbled. " shit, " she hissed out, attempting to regain her balance. barely looking off, their next sentence trailed off into a surprised sort of whisper. " are you alr-- holy shit, percival? "

#your sister lives / cass de rolo #cass ft. percy

[doubleimages]

@forafcrtnight for tony / the city had been a mess recently - more than a mess, actually; it had been downright chaotic. so much noise, and so many problems, and a part of cass was reminded of those first few years in whitestone after the briarwoods took over, when everything and everyone tried to move on or get revenge and nothing ever worked. blowing a few loose strands of hair from her face, she glanced sideways to the man doing... something... beside her and asked, " so, what do you make of it all? the weirdness and such? also, what in the hells are you doing? "

#your sister lives // cass de rolo #cass ft. tony

[xannerz]

posting wips b/c either it'll motivate me to finish them or move on

#xanswips #artists drawing hector: give that man $7000 eyebags or else they're counterfeit #ft evil wife and soft cass #need to fix the perspective on bottom left's mouth tho w/ew/e

[faoighiche]

Faelures | Cass & Burrow

PARTNER : @magmahearts TIMING : Current. LOCATION : Downtown. SUMMARY : Burrow is caught by an angry mob of humans. Luckily, the local superhero Magma is nearby to help. WARNINGS : None.

The humans were quick, but Burrow was quicker. Always a pace or more ahead of the stomping feet behind her. She did not have the same luck with the barrage thrown at her: one smacked firmly on her back. It clanged as it met the ground: probably metal. It left a bruise like metal. Not that she let it stop her. She still needed to outpace the swinging bat — she could hear its whooshing in the air behind her. If only her precious parasites did not yearn for the humans, then she could be done with them. But their yearning would always become her own, so she too craved the humans’ insides. It would only lead to minor discomforts; not like the humans would ever understand. Nor did she care to change it. Even if her roundworm eggs wanted carnage, she still would have been slipping them into that bakery’s bread. So many humans had already gladly accepted their intrusion with a smile on their faces. It could have been such a lovely thing… until she was spotted. They should be grateful her parasites found them worthy to be hosts! She would only offer the best for her parasites. And the best they were, the humans’ legs not tiring as they continued to chase her. 

Down and down the alley they chased. Down to a tree that would be Burrow’s sanctuary. She scrambled up the branches, finding a comfortable resting spot high amongst them. The humans scurried to the trunk, banging at the bark, causing some to fall to the ground. They had to go and injure another worthy host as well! They screamed at her to return to the ground, but she was uninterested. This was all too dramatic for her liking. “If you accept to put down your makeshift weapons, you will never see me again.” That bind was ready to be rid of both of their problems, if only the humans could be reasonable enough to take it. For the moment, they too were uninterested in giving into her demands. She considered calling to her roundworms and sending the grown ones squirming into the humans’ lungs. A tempting thought. But it would cause suspicions to become certainties. They would know of her parasites’ presence and kill them. No. She called to another: the parasitoid wasps resting nearby.

It was too soon, really, for Cass to be doing this. On some level, she knew that. Her shoulder still ached, still hadn’t healed entirely, and she still felt the warden’s presence around every corner. Like he was waiting for her, like she was one step away from his knife finding her skull instead of her shoulder this time. She was supposed to be taking it easy, still, supposed to be letting herself heal. But she was bad at that, she was learning; she was bad at sitting back and doing nothing, especially when Alex was at school and Kaden was at work and the cabin was empty. She felt so afraid, and she didn’t want to. She wanted to feel strong again, wanted to feel brave. So she turned back to the thing that had always allowed her to feel like she was a thing worth being. She dropped her glamour — a relief, since the concentration to keep it up had been harder to come by since that cold iron had slashed her flesh — and she went out.

Cass was weak. Cass had nearly died at the hands of a hunter, to a weapon she still didn’t entirely understand. Cass had laid on an autopsy table and seen ghosts on the faces of the people she’d loved. Cass had needed saving, like a damsel in distress. But Magma wasn’t like that. Magma was strong, Magma was brave, Magma was a motherfucking superhero. Cass wanted to be Magma now, wanted to be Magma most of the time, really. Magma made a difference. She liked that.

So, Magma she was. All rocky skin and glowing veins, following the sounds of trouble to the foot of a tree, where baseball bats sent bark flying. A twinge of anger stirred in her gut. Trees weren’t her domain, but she still hated to see them hurt for no reason. And, as she heard a voice calling down from the branches, she realized that trees weren’t the only thing these bats were trying to hurt. “Baseball bats?” She called out, making her presence known. “Really? What are you, Steve Harrington? Quit while you’re ahead.”

If only the humans knew the importance of a schedule, Burrow would not be in this mess. When the humans left for work, when they slept, what they focused on eating, what items they regularly used — where these things were missing is where she burrowed herself into. Of course, in hindsight the ooze would change this predictability. Humans were creatures of mimicry. When the world became disarrayed, they acted accordingly. A chaos she had thought she had accounted for, but who could really account for the uncontrollable. Oh, if only she had arrived in this human nest sooner. She could be nestled nicely in the Aos Sí of her choosing, enjoying a steaming mug of cocoa. Instead, there was a ringing in her ears. For once, she would rather have the buzzing of wings. She called to them: closer and closer.

All the clamoring distracted Burrow from the buzzing within. That burning that always clawed its way up her back when one of them was near. Yet, even without that gnawing pain, she would have known the other was an oread. No other could possess that swirling dance of magma and rock. A living light that was a fire to the moths: as dazzling as it was dangerous. A magnificent truth exposed without a lick of caution. In the middle of a human nest, no less! How deranged. While Burrow would indulge in her truth more frequently than her promise allowed, she would never think to do the same. It wished for death. It was careless. It was… useful, Burrow suddenly realized. The humans became too distracted to yell, their mouths now preoccupied with gawking.  

Only moments, of course, since these were residents of Wicked’s Rest. “Wha- what the hell are…” The quiver in the man’s voice was replaced with a growl. “Oh, fuck off! This doesn’t fucking concern you.” He gripped his bat even tighter, now that he had two targets for it. The fear and suspicions in them all was palpable. Burrow was, unfortunately, familiar with such dangerous things. “Hello. Why are you exposing yourself to the humans?” It was clearly not a common occurrence, or her searching would have been fulfilled long ago. No, this was an outlier, as it should be. Did everyone in the other’s Aos Sí act so brazenly? At least oreads were no use to her and her parasites — such an Aos Sí can be easily written off as too much of a risk.

She felt it as she approached the tree; that quiet flutter in her stomach, that familiar pull. Whoever was hidden in the branches wasn’t human, or undead, or a shifter. They were fae. They were like her. And, as it always did, the revelation filled Cass with a quiet anxiety, a sharp unease. Whoever it was was bound to dislike her, because fae usually did. They’d think her strange or reckless and want very little to do with her when all was said and done. The rejection would hurt, she knew; it always felt so much sharper coming from someone who was meant to be biologically inclined towards companionship with her, like she was failing at even the most instinctual of things. She could feel the blade of it resting against her skin, a ghost of the warden’s cold iron that had almost killed her in the form of preemptive grief. 

She pushed it away for now. Whoever was up there — another nymph, or a faun like Conor, or a spriggan — they wouldn’t like her, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that they needed help, that someone was trying to hurt them. Cass had needed saving when Rhett’s blade was against her skull, but she didn’t need saving now. She could do the saving now instead, could be useful again. She wanted that. She wanted it more than anything. To prove herself, even if only to herself.

“When somebody is trying to hurt someone, I make it my concern,” she said, letting the crackle of her voice shine through, letting it sound less and less human. People were afraid of her true form, sometimes. When she was trying to make friends, she hated it. But when she was out as a superhero? It came in handy. She glanced up to the tree, where the fae hidden in the branches seemed to be addressing her now. She tried for a smile, the expression somewhat muted by the stony nature of her skin. “Hi!” She greeted, ignoring the man with the bat for now. “I’m a superhero. This is how I make sure nobody recognizes me. I don’t usually walk around like this, but it comes in handy when I want to make sure nobody knows who I am, you know? Are you okay? Did they hurt you at all?”

Did this fae feel sympathy to the humans? The oread was comfortable not just to exposure, but to dabble in their concerns. To chase away the monsters under their beds. Or attic, in Burrow’s case. It made more sense, despite how ridiculous, than for the fae to feel sympathy for herself. When this savior turned her attention to Burrow, her limbs readied. The climax of her urgency was matched with the buzz of wings in the air. It may have been avoided if she had caught that smile. She knew the meanings for most expressions. The causes for squinted eyes or twitched antennae. But rocks and their ways of feelings were, well, a mystery. Enlightenment only came when a cheery voice erupted from the other’s mouth.

The buzzing of the wasps stopped. “Uth?” Burrow muttered. Was she the one being given aid? Gods, what was happening? It was becoming clearer that there was something wrong with the fae of Wicked’s Rest. It was so strange and terrible, to get a taste of the comradery she had only ever seen at a distance. She would savor its temporary sweetness before spitting it out once proven fruitful. Even if it already had a… weird taste. Superhero? She had heard the word through various walls, accompanied by tales of punching and bright colors. Well, the oread had the latter covered. “They will not know your disguise, but they may recognize what you are.” Parker had been very keen to avoid any bloodshed for his fellow ironmongers. A natural inclination for one's kin, but it hinted to the presence of others nearby. Others who could hear the tale of a ‘girl’ with melting stones for skin. 

Burrow looked down to the humans, who could not come to a consensus to which fae they would stare. Should they focus on their prey or the sudden predator? She did not suffer from the same conflict; her eyes stayed fixed on them, despite continuing to address the other. “Yes I am okay. Yes they have harmed me. They threw something hard at my back.” A human was quick to retort, “You were poisoning our food, you freak!” How aggravating to twist her actions. She was giving them a beautiful blessing; a chance to make their bodies useful. But of course they were incapable of understanding it. She would not bother to explain. “I was not,” was the only answer she would give.

It was a familiar warning, one that had come often from the elder nymphs in her aos si. You put us all in danger when you risk exposing what you are to the world, they used to hiss, even if they’d never seen fit to explain to her what kind of danger she was meant to be avoiding. Until Wicked’s Rest, Cass had known nothing of the existence of wardens and hunters, had been unaware that there was an entire subspecies of humanity designed specifically for killing her. Would it have stopped her from clinging to humanity as she had back in Hawai’i? She wasn’t sure. Part of her knew, deep down, that this hunger would have always existed inside of her, this quiet desire to find acceptance from her mother’s kin. 

She only shrugged at the warning now, the same way she had all those years ago on the island. There was an anxiety in her chest that hadn’t existed there before, of course — she could still feel the phantom hand around her throat, the knife slipping into her shoulder — but she pushed that away. Rhett hadn’t gone after her because he’d seen her in Magma form. Alex said he could sense her, that hunters had the ability to know when someone was the kind of thing they went after regardless of what disguise they might be wearing. “If people come after me for helping people who need it, I can deal with that,” she replied, more confident than she felt. There were worse things to be hurt for, she thought. There were worse ways to go. She’d rather be targeted because of her heroism than pulled away from safety at random by someone she’d thought trustworthy, rather bleed for others than for nothing. If people like Rhett were going to target her either way, she’d prefer it if they learned of her existence because she’d used it to do something good. 

The other fae was okay, and there was some relief at that, though Cass did feel a flare of anger at the fact that these people had thrown something at her back. She shot the nearest human a sharp glare. “She says she didn’t,” she said, firm and unyielding. “And I don’t think she’s a liar.” It was easier to trust fae than it was to trust humans, despite her fondness for the latter. Humans lied so easily, as simple as breathing. Fae found it much more difficult. The fae in the tree said she didn’t poison their food, and there didn’t seem to be any discomfort accompanying the statement, so Cass let herself believe it. Besides, it was so much easier to side with the person hiding in a tree than it was to agree with the ones standing at the foot of it with baseball bats in their hands and violent intentions in their expressions. “Even if she did do something to your food, what’s hurting her gonna do? The food would still be messed up. Just don’t eat it. Put the stupid bat down, go to the grocery store. Or stay here and try to fight, and get all embarrassed when I kick your butts. Up to you!”

How altruistic. Burrow did not understand it. Selfishness was demanded by her nature, but it was not entirely at fault. While she knew such generosity existed between other fae, how it bound their souls together, it was never tied to her. No one had shown her how to tie those knots; no one had shown her what they meant. After all, she was a monster. But, in that moment, she was just one in the crowd. The oread defended her words as if she were any other fae. Strange. For a wonderful blink, the fae’s favor was hers. “Right. I do not lie.” Such a disgusting thing. She could never understand the humans’ obsession with it. It was their second worst trait. 

Another terrible trait was their proclivity for fear, but at least that had its uses. Burrow watched the oread make her loyalties known — watched as the humans’ confidence melted away. She could understand why other fae were so addicted to community. With just that one addition, the course of Fate shifted. Puffed chests began to concave as the oread’s threat settled in the humans’ hearts. It was hard to boast when met with a match in physical might, and the oread was particularly mighty. Burrow was mighty in her own ways. She would seize their tremble in judgment. “As I said. If you accept to lower your makeshift weapons, you will never see me again.” The bind nestled innocently before them, waiting like a hookworm waited to be stepped on. The humans grumbled amongst themselves, yet between the tones of frustration she did hear the sprinklings of “fine”s. Good enough. The bind claimed them. 

A few humans began to slowly retreat, the others being pulled into that flow, and with it their weapons followed. They lowered. Then stopped. Everything stopped. The humans choked on that silence. The only show of their continued consciousness were their eyes. They darted about rapidly, never settling on anything. Unable to settle on anything. The weapons returned to their tight grips, but it did not return what was lost to them. Still, those eyes searched desperately into nothing. It was then that the silence was broken. A cacophony of wails, followed by the blind bashing of bats. “Ach, shit,” Burrow hissed.

It was better, Cass thought, to end things like this without a fight. She didn’t like hurting people. She never had. Violence was a thing to be used sparingly, only when absolutely necessary and never more than what was called for. The best heroes won as many battles with words as they did with fists, leaned on diplomacy as much as their powers. Cass had always wanted to be like that, had always wanted to be the kind of hero who hurt only those who needed hurting and never harmed anyone irreparably. Being fae helped with that; binds were useful things, able to ensure that no one went back on their promises. And she was glad that the fae up in the tree was making use of one now.

She relaxed as the humans lowered their bats, pleased with herself for the peaceful resolution even if it hadn’t been her who had orchestrated it. But then… something happened. The humans stilled, and something in their eyes seemed to change. They were looking without seeing, and Cass felt her breath catch in her throat. The fae’s words had been precise, she realized, and there had been a reason for that. The bats swung out, blind but violent. One slammed against her side, the sound reverberating as metal met stone. It hurt, in spite of the rocky surface of her skin. She stumbled back a few steps, out of reach of the bats.

Furious, she looked up into the branches. “What — What did you do? They were leaving! They were going to leave! You didn’t have to —” Another bat swung towards her, the man brandishing it drawn to her voice now that his sight was gone. She sidestepped to avoid it, ducking behind the tree with her chest heaving. Guilt ate away at her. This was her fault, wasn’t it? At least partially. She’d talked them into accepting the deal, had damned them just as much as the fae in the tree above. “Why would you do that?”

“Tha fhios agam!” I know! Burrow mirrored the oread’s frustration, for this all was a mirror to failures of the past. It was those pesky words that were her obstacle. What she truly wanted was not a lack of sight but a lack of notice. To be made a fly in the corner, free to take what she wanted. But the humans were not enticed by ‘do this and you will not notice me.’ An obvious predicament, though she had tried… and failed. Well, seeing was a type of noticing. She had hoped ambiguity would be her partner, as it often was eager to be, but found it lacking in this case. Her preference was for frankness, and it seemed her magic preferred it, too. A loss of sight was much more direct than what she desired. And what she desired was not this. Even if the humans could not see her, they were certainly noticing her then. 

A parasite did not want chaos. Chaos led to detection; detection led to poison. Burrow was not a helpless worm unknowing of the mebendazole soon to come and starve them. She was safe up in her tree, yet still, she felt the prickling of unease. Her wasps had the air join that prickling. Under the will of her essence, the buzz of small wings became the shriek of a banshee. It consumed the humans: all they knew was the buzz and all they were was the buzz. Desperate to escape total assimilation, they scattered. Aimless and graceless, but still the humans found their path away. Follow the quiet away from the buzz. Once the last human disappeared, the wasps also followed the quiet. Silent and pleased, they rested on branches, waiting to be called. 

“One day I will perfect that bind.” But that day had yet to pass. Burrow severed its knot, letting the bind break into oblivion. No use in leaving evidence that the humans could use to hunt her later. She looked down to the oread. Right. She was not alone. The corner of her lip twitched: almost a smirk and almost nothing at all. The humans would likely blame the one who was not disguised as them. It was in their nature to favor their own kin. If only she could experience the same sentiment. “Do not bother scolding me for my poor binding. I am aware. I severed the bind.” 

She couldn’t understand what the other fae was saying. The language was unfamiliar to her, but the tone wasn’t. The frustration, the uncertainty… It occurred to Cass that the results of this bind may not have been an intentional thing. She thought of Kuma, of how dangerous a bind could be when you didn’t know what you were doing with it. Anger turned to sympathy in an instant, even as she had to step behind the tree to avoid the blind blows from the terrified people still swinging. Most fae she’d met — save for Ren, who was her own anomaly — were better at this than Cass was. They’d been raised the way fae were meant to be raised, grown up around people like them. Maybe this one in the tree was more like her. Maybe there was still companionship to be found here.

Buzzing insects descended on the humans, and they scattered to avoid the sensation of being both blind and deaf. Cass was torn between her desire to go after them and make sure they were okay and her desire to stay beneath the tree and do the same for the fae within its branches. In the end, the latter won out, leaving her cemented in place. It was natural, she thought, to feel more drawn to the one who was more like her than the ones who’d just been trying to hurt her. It was an expected thing. 

She looked up into the tree, catching sight of the other girl within the branches for the first time. With the humans around, looking up for an extended period had been too dangerous to risk; that wasn’t a problem now. The girl looked about her age, which made sense. Older fae tended to find it easier to perfect binds. She admitted to having severed the bind, and Cass felt the relief swirl within her chest. “Okay. Good. That’s good.” She paused for a moment. “I wasn’t going to… scold you. I just — I thought you did it on purpose at first. And that’s — They were just scared. You know? People do stupid things when they’re scared. But I get it. The, uh… The trouble perfecting the bind. I’ve had accidents with that, too.”

Burrow knew well how often stupidity and fright were paired. While she was often safe inside obscurity, there were moments like the one that had transpired. The humans had only seen a glimpse of her nature, a glimpse of something they feared to murderous intent, and they had been sent into a frenzy. The lapse of judgment made them easier to bind. If only it didn’t come with the possible consequence of knives or poisons or bats in her face. It was why she preferred less drastics routes, but Fate did not care for her wants. So, yes, the oread’s logic was sound. It was the lack of a want for scolding she found odd. The oread had been content to do the same a moment ago, and admittedly she was justified in continuing to do so. What changed? It seemed the fae was very forgiving, or overly empathetic, or both. Strange. “Yes, I am aware. Of how the humans were scared and stupid, not of your… bind mishaps.” 

Well, if the oread was no longer in a sour mood, then the conversation could continue. There were other things Burrow would prefer to discuss. The only thing she cared to discuss with fae. She leaned forward, her dreads falling forward to caress her face. A shadow covered her features, leaving only the lights of her eyes visible. “As you can see, the humans do not like me.” The fae didn’t as well, but that wasn’t relevant. “I am in need of an Aos Sí. Do you know the location of any?” If the oread truly was the standard to whatever nest she hailed, Burrow would be sure to avoid it for her greater goal. But maybe, hopefully, the residents knew of more appropriate nests. One that wasn’t on some hunter’s radar due to the fae galavented about in their truth like the one before her. 

“Humans aren’t the only ones who do stupid things when they’re scared,” Cass replied with a small shrug, thinking of all the terrible things she’d seen people of all different species do with fear as an excuse. “Sometimes I think it’s the only thing everybody has in common, you know? You’d think it would bring everybody together, but…” It only ever served to turn them against each other. Her shoulder twinged faintly, the memory of Rhett’s hand around her throat never far from the forefront of her mind these days. The people who’d been after the fae in the tree weren’t hunters, she didn’t think; if they had been, they wouldn’t have run, wouldn’t have hesitated to attack her. But it didn’t matter much in the end. They could do just as much damage.

She looked up into the tree still, making note of every feature she could make out on the other fae. She wanted to recognize her if she saw her again. If she was struggling, maybe she needed a friend. Maybe Cass could be that. “They don’t usually like me much, either,” she admitted, even if it hurt to say. Of course, fae didn’t tend to like her much, either, but she kept that to herself. Her face fell, however, at the question of an Aos Sí. “I’m not really… in the know about that kind of thing,” she said with a shrug. “I haven’t been a part of one since I was a little kid, and it’s a really long ways away from here. I don’t know of any in town. What kind of fae are you? Are you a nymph? Maybe I can help you find one with people like you.”

“Fear does not make anyone want connection. I know that well.” If it did, Burrow would be the most beloved fae of her old nest. They would have never let her go, they would have never allowed her to go — filled with the same insatiable want as her parasites. Instead, all she had was her parasites. They would never fear her, for she was made to destroy their fears. The oread did have some sense. The fae and the humans were all connected in their fear of her parasites. She would see them all end if their bodies were not filled with such useful nutrients. Well, usually. Even that the oread lacked. Though, she could still find use in things less tangible. In words and ideas and knowledge. Accept that was lacking as well. 

Gods, another stray.  It felt as if this place was a nest of strays, too far spread to even make a proper féth fíada. Of course, Burrow knew (or perhaps more accurately, hoped) that wasn’t true. It was likely those that were of a nest never bothered to leave. It was what she would do; it was what she wanted to do if any of the fae would cooperate. But, no. Another ignorant stray — another useless conversation. 

Well, only presently, it seemed. The oread offered future usefulness to her. How altruistic. Burrow would work with that, especially if the oread was as adept at finding as she was intimidating. Many moths could fall prey to that brilliant flame. “My family are the protectors of the boneless. Na gun cnàimhan… The entomids.” It would have burned the same as any other lie if she had said she was one, too. The last she had thought, truly thought, she was an entomid was before she could properly pronounce the word. No, her role was a monster. That was what she was. But other monsters were not what she seeked. Though, other entomids were not what she seeked either — not specifically. “I would enjoy a nest of fae that are not just entomids. I simply want to find a nest.” 

“Depends on what you’re afraid of. Mutual fear can bring people together… for better or worse. Usually worse.” Mutual fear made a crowd into a mob. Being the thing that a large group of people were afraid of could end poorly. Cass had a feeling the fae in the tree knew that well, if the reaction of the humans who had been chasing her was any indication. Cass knew it, too. It was rare, the number of times she’d been chased instead of left, but it was still a substantial enough thing to bear mentioning. It wasn’t something she enjoyed. She doubted it was something anyone enjoyed.

She couldn’t see the other fae well enough to see the disappointment on her face, but she knew it must have been there all the same. This stranger was seeking community, and she’d found Cass instead. How could that ever be anything even remotely resembling enough? Cass wasn’t in a position to offer anyone any kind of belonging; she couldn’t even find it for herself.

Cass nodded along as the other spoke, making a note of it. An entomid. A little unfortunate, she thought, that this one would arrive just as Ren was leaving; the two of them could have found some belonging with one another, maybe, had things worked out differently. “I don’t know of any others in town anymore,” she admitted, a little disappointed in herself. “But I know other kinds of nymphs. Maybe one of them knows of an aos si you could join.” Teagan knew a lot about fae things, didn’t she? Cass didn’t think the nix was a part of an aos si, but maybe that was by choice. Maybe she knew of one, even if she wasn’t a member. Dr. Kavanagh likely knew none, considering how in denial she was about most things, but that might have been worth an ask, too. “What, um… criteria are you looking for? We can narrow it down.”

Fear did have humans clamoring upon themselves like mindless worms. They were a communal species, after all. A community that Burrow was not welcomed. She may be a monster too, but the humans shared no love for her. Nor did she often share their fears, but in the times she did, it did not bridge the gap between them. “Mutual fear has never connected the humans to me. That is irrelevant.” Totally and truly, for she had lost interest in the topic. It was a lost cause — a path that led to disappointment and death. The other, the one that ended in the claiming of an Aos Sí, was all she cared for. It would lead her parasites to a place where fear would never harm them again. A place this fae was so sweet to help find.

Anymore. Well, Fate smiled on Burrow again. If she had arrived in town a moment sooner, she would have been forced to play nice with the entomid — at least, for as long the oread proved useful. What a shame, though, that she could not watch as her parasites slowly took away all their precious insects. “Yes. I would like to… know what those other nymphs know about the Aos Si here.” She would not say she would like to meet, for that was a lie. She merely wanted their knowledge and nothing more. Their exchanges would not extend any longer than they were useful. “I want to find a nest of those who are connected to the creatures, the plants, the fungi, and the waters of this world. I do not want a nest of those of the shadows or the light or the cold. They may live in the nest, but I do not want one that is composed only of those types.” She would do better to continue struggling as she did now, then try to make a home with those. They attracted nothing for her precious ones to feast upon. It would be a slow and unfortunate death for them all.  

She didn’t want to argue, but she could have. Cass had spent years of her life chasing the affections of humans, trying with everything she had to make them love her. And in a lot of ways, she’d had more success with them than she had with fae. Humans — or people who used to be human, like Aria and Alex — had a habit of loving Cass better than those with shared heritage knew how to. But she understood the other nymph’s desire to find a connection with people more like the two of them. She understood that quiet yearning for an aos si to belong to, even if she’d given up finding one for herself a long time ago. She wanted to help. She really did.

She just wished she were better at it. She knew so few fae here in town, and none who belonged to a larger group of them. Especially with specifications. Finding an aos si was a feat all its own, but a specific one? One not made up of certain kinds of nymphs, but with those like the one in the tree? It would be a challenge. “I can try,” Cass agreed. “I can try to find that for you. But… I’m not sure I’ll be able to.” Fae didn’t like her, and if fae didn’t like her, they were highly unlikely to share with her something as personal as the location or details of their aos si. But if she failed… this fae wouldn’t like her, either. She wanted to try, wanted to find something, wanted to be useful. “Did you come from one? An aos si, I mean. Were you a part of one before?” Maybe that explained why she was looking for something so specific. A desire to recreate a lost home was a big motivator. 

Burrow let out a disappointed hum. The oread had seemed so eager to help, it was assumed it had been paired with the capacity to fulfill it. The oread had seemed capable of anything moments ago: strong and steady against the ire of all those humans. But the fae did not lie. They may trick and mislead, but they did not lie. The oread did not believe she was competent, so naturally, Burrow believed as well. A pity. While the fae in this nest were slower to discern her true nature, she knew her luck would be spent soon. To have a fae, a true and magnificent fae, as assistance would have been a wonderful asset. Still, any help at all was a rare commodity. Though she will not provide Burrow with her greatest want, the oread could provide hints. Things that Burrow could use to find it herself. There was power in numbers — such a power Burrow often wielded. “You will try, then. I will use whatever you provide me.” 

Burrow tensed. A finger clenched in a way that severed the bark under her grasp. An echo of an old pain rebounded against her chest, writhing inside her heart as if it had been made anew. It soon simmered into nothing, as all echoes do. Her heart returned to its normal tempo. “Yes, I come from a nest. It was a long time ago.” Nearly half her life could be split between being home and being without. In that time, she had learned her true home was many. As many homes as she could claim. She did not need that thing from the past. “It… The old nest will not do. I am in need of another nest.” One that her family could not refuse her to keep. They had known what she was, unlike the fae of Wicked’s Rest. That ignorance would be their end.  

Cass tilted her head a little at the other nymph’s wording. “I’m not making any promises or anything,” she warned. No matter how much she wanted this stranger to like her, she refused to allow herself to be bound. She’d do her best to help, but she wouldn’t promise anything more than that. She wasn’t capable of anything more than that, and she didn’t want to doom herself because of it. 

But… it was hard not to feel some sympathy for the fae in the tree. She didn’t know what had forced the other from her aos si, but it was clear that something had. It could have been hunters, could have been that her community was no longer there to return to. Or it could have been something more like Cass’s experience — a banishment that saw her desperately seeking belonging elsewhere. Cass had found hers among species unlike her. Ariadne, Alex, Metzli, Milo, Wynne, Van… not fae, but good all the same. This nymph seemed to have little interest in that, though. She was steadfast and certain of what she wanted. Maybe there was something admirable in that. “Okay. That’s all right. Forget the old one, we’ll see if we can find you something new.” She paused a moment. And then… “I’m Cass. What’s your name?”

Burrow returned the head tilt. “I am aware.” The fae never made promises to the likes of her — not without something to be gained. She did not want to make an exchange with one who could not fulfill their end. It was a deal guaranteed to end in the other’s torment. She knew many fae enjoyed that sort of play, but not her. She wanted results, not fun. “You would have already made the promise if you were interested.” Still, a shame she could not be given the promise freely. It would have hinted at a confidence that could have secured Burrow her new home. Instead, she must rely on the oread’s passing whimsy. And it would surely be passing, as the fae did not stand her for long. 

Burrow’s frown was lost to a shadow, but not in the tone of her voice. “No. I will not forget the old one. The memories remind me of what I am.” As a child fresh in the human world, weakness had plagued her mind. It had made her want to give it all away. To be rid of the memories of her parents calling her monster, but also the memories of a warm bed and constant food. She had wanted to be made anew amongst the humans. But she could not forsake her parasites. The memories reminded her why she must succeed. The world was cruel to all the parasites; they needed a sanctuary only she could provide.

“My name is Burrow.” Just as the words escaped her lips, she heard commotion in the distance. It tore her attention away from the oread, casting her face finally in the light. It stung her eyes, forcing them into a squint. But she did not need wide eyes to gather that the approaching noises were human in nature. 

There was no anger at the lack of promise, at least. Cass would accept that as a victory, albeit a small one. Fae often grew frustrated when they weren’t promised things they thought they deserved; Cass had experienced it so many times over the years. If she was being honest, she’d admit that she’d felt such frustration herself a time or two. But it wasn’t much fun being on the receiving end of it, and she was glad to avoid it now. She offered the other nymph a grin that seemed to split the surface of stone on her face. “That’s right,” she agreed. Those who were foolish enough to make promises were usually foolish enough to do so quickly, after all. 

There was a quick stab of anxiety through her chest as the other spoke again, a flash of fear. She’d said the wrong thing, hadn’t she? She always did. Say the wrong thing too many times and you’d lose any shot of friendship, she knew that. Quickly, she tried to backtrack. “No, I don’t mean — Not forget it, like, literally forget it! More like, um, who needs them, right? You’re here now, so screw them. Memories are important, but, you know, you’re probably better off without the people. Right?” Was she digging the hole deeper? It was hard to say.

It was almost a relief when the commotion sounded in the distance. At least it would save her from messing anything else up with her big mouth, right? She looked up into the tree towards the other nymph, towards Burrow. “They’re coming back,” she said quickly. “If you come down, I can get us somewhere they won’t find us. There’s an entrance to a cave nearby! We can hang out there until it’s safe.”

The bubbliness of the oread’s tone popped, and all her words became jumbled. Burrow had learned that it could mean the other was nervous. A spike of nerves she was unsure of the cause. It certainly was not the approach of the humans, based on the oread’s previous bravado. Had Burrow said something worrisome? It was a curiosity she did not care to expand upon. “I see. Ok.” There were other things on her mind, such as what to do about the mob around the corner. If she followed one of the sturdy branches she had perched upon, she would be close to a nearby building. Close enough to reach a railing. A well placed jump here and there, and she could make it up onto the roof. But, it seemed to not be necessary. 

Burrow’s gaze returned to the oread — returned to the shadow that concealed her look of caution. The only other fae to offer her such help had been Teagan, and that had been secured with a bind. Secured even further with the knowledge that Teagan, too, was a monster. This fae had neither assurances. Those shifting rocks that made her face were impossible to understand, only matched in obscurity by the oread’s intentions. Was this a trick? The oread had announced herself a hero and the fae did not lie. Cass seemed forgiving and altruistic and (dare she think it) kind. Seemed. Burrow had never known the fae to be kind. It was foolish to trust it. What she did trust was the animosity of the humans, which (truthfully) she wasn’t sure she’d fare much better against. She let out a sigh. “Do not harm me, or you will discover the might of my domain.” A promise without a bind, though she would uphold it the same. She let the warning linger in the air. “I will follow you to the cave.” 

Burrow scurried down the tree, landing silently upon the ground. An unnecessary action, for the approaching clamoring would cover any noise she made. “Lead the way.”

#wickedswriting #thread #thread : cass #ft. cass a.

[laceyyu]

@cassbrookes; farmhouse

Two weeks had passed since Alex’s eventful arrival to Redwood. Things had calmed down once again for the most part. For him, at least. There was no telling what Cass was up to. She had managed to not get into any trouble while they were at the ranch during that first year of the outbreak, but it had just been them and their parents and Nate. Not much she could do with that. There were people in Redwood, and he was certain that Cass would be able to work her magic with them as she would any other group before the virus.

As for Alex, well... it was lonely in Redwood. And he missed Iris. More than he thought he would. Obviously he was happy to have Cass back, and he had talked to a few people during his time so far. It was hard being in a new place with all new people. He didn’t want to miss Iris. Iris had been a godsave during a time when he needed it most, but he couldn’t stay there. He never should’ve stayed long term. It meant that he had gotten too close and now it hurt knowing he would never see any of the people he loved ever again. 

Alex had thought he and Cass would spend hours and hours talking and catching up once he was settled in, but the two siblings had stayed relatively silent. Neither of them knew much about what had happened to the other while they were apart. Most of their conversations had been about the here-and-now. Alex knew most of it was his own fault - he had been distant as he acclimated to Redwood, and his relationship with Cass had suffered because of it. As much as he wanted their relationship to be fixed and go back to where it had been before Nate’s death and his kidnapping, there was a divide between them whether he liked it or not.

Part of it was the feeling that he had betrayed Cass in Iris. He had convinced himself that his life was now only worth living for others, yet he had found himself happy in Iris. Happy without her. Not happy because she wasn’t there, of course, but the fact that he could be happy without her.... There was a lot he never planned on telling her, which sucked. He didn’t like feeling like he was keeping secrets. But he didn’t want to start an argument and have her try to convince him otherwise with some of his current thinking. She would be upset that he felt he was living for her (and now Renee and the boys), not for himself. She would say that there was still hope, that he would find happiness, that things would work out in the end. At this point, he didn’t care if it was true. He didn’t want to hear it. He had been happy in Iris, and he had given it up to find her.

Cass would feel responsible if she ever found that out, like she had been the reason he had given up his life in Iris. And, to be fair, she was the reason, but it had been his choice. Cass hadn’t forced him to leave. How could he get her to understand that it hadn’t been a choice? Yes, he had been happy in Iris, but... he couldn’t explain it. Iris had given him a reason to live, but Cass was his reason to survive. And if the virus had taught him anything about humanity, it was that survival came before anything else. Every time.

Alex swallowed and forced his head up from the bed. Alone, as he probably always would be in Redwood. He turned to put his feet onto the floor and drink a few sips from the water bottle he kept on his new bedside table. Another nightmare, thought not as bad as it could’ve been. He couldn’t remember what had happened, but the anxiety in the pit of his stomach remained. He got up from his bed and padded into the living room of the farmhouse. Cass sat in the recliner. “Morning,” he greeted. “Sleep okay?”

#ft. cass #cass 002 #//yeah

[soximena]

@cassromano // outside ximena's

mornings spent on the porch with breakfast and a coffee had become something of a sacred tradition for ximena. there was something unmatched in the calming abilities of a sunrise paired with birdsong. turning their face toward the sun, a smile crossed her features as her eyes closed to soak up the rays. like clockwork, they heard the familiar thrumming of the mail truck's engine, head turning and smile widening, paired with an exaggerated wave. "good morning, miss cass!" she greeted, standing with a fresh almond croissant in their hands, practically running to meet her. "how's the route been this morning?"

#✮⋆˙ maybe human's not such a bad thing to be / ximena interacts. #✮⋆˙ ft. cass ! #cassromano #eeeeeeee :D

[colemonroe]

WHERE: The Outpost WITH: @cassiehendriks

After checking in at the clubhouse, Cole stepped into The Outpost, seemingly under the guise of wanting a drink, but there was more than enough liquor to go around back with the MC. No, tonight was about making his rounds and checking on those who were close to the club, the same way he had been ever since the chaos at the gala unfolded. Taking a seat on a vacant barstool, he dug out his pack of Marlboros and tossed them on the bartop. As he spotted Cass, he nodded in greeting, and offered up a small smile, “Pour me somethin’ tall and strong, Cass,” Cole chuckled, setting one of his cigarettes between his lips and lighting it. Just as he did, he glanced over at a guy a couple seats down practically snoring into his beer. Snorting a laugh, he glanced back at Cass and shook his head, “Maybe not quite that strong, though.”

#( ft; cassandra hendriks. ) #( cass 001. )

[luvscloud-a]

★   ੭ ˚    ⌕    k_woojin    ♡    a    look    into    the    woojin    +    his    pet    demons    groupchat     (     𝓯𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈.     ೀ     @gardenfeys      )

#gardenfeys #✿ ʾ kang woojin : edits #i tried to be true 2 character so BAD for cass + sanguk 😭 #temp provided by june again .. <333 #✿ ʾ kang woojin : ft. sanguk #✿ ʾ kang woojin : ft. cassius #✿ ʾ kang woojin : musings #he is so dramatic </3

[weekend-conspiracy-theorist]

a cassandra cain detective story (technically set in the tim&steph role swap au)

"Look," Nightwing said. His voice was perfectly pleasant, even as he crouched, somehow menacing, near the shoulders of the man prone on the ground. Nightwing's black and blue toned fingers curled in the man's shirt, drawing it uncomfortably tight around the man's neck and holding him a few inches off of the ground. "The quicker you talk, the quicker this is over."

Cassandra melted out of the shadows, her footsteps silent and the tattered ends of her cloak swirling about her knees. Her Black Bat costume was not quite as hauntingly terrifying as her old Batgirl costume, a deliberate choice she had made in its inception, but she knew that the figure she cut remained... unnerving. Still, the man's eyes flicked, beseechingly, over Nightwing's shoulder towards her.

The expression that flashed across Nightwing's face in answer had too many teeth to be a smile. "Trust me, buddy," he said, his voice sinking into a lower register. "I'm the cuddly one. Where's the kid?"

"I don't--" He swallowed hard against the rasp of his voice, but Nightwing's hand only twisted tighter in his shirt. "Don't know what you're talking about," the guy rasped. His hands hovered in the air as if he wanted to grab at Nightwing's wrist but didn't quite have the guts.

"I don't believe you."

Neither did Cassandra.

Her eyes raked over the room; raked over the other groaning kidnappers that Nightwing had already bound and zip tied. The scene was not, for once, set against the backdrop of an abandoned warehouse--merely an abandoned storefront. By the empty plastic cylinders and bright but faded paint on the walls, she thought perhaps it had been a candy shop, once upon a time. Her gloved fingertips drifted through the air as she moved through the room, trusting the interrogation to her brother.

He had well over a decade of practice at being intimidating, even if he was the cuddly one.

Cassandra didn't try, actively, to figure out what was striking her as so odd about the tableau in front of her; she simply let the details wash over her, eyes dark behind the lenses of her mask, boots silent against the linoleum. The fight between Nightwing and the kidnappers was spelled out in scuff marks over the dusty floor, in the glitter of glass from the window he'd launched himself through, but--

This spot did not belong, she thought. She leaned forward at the waist, the ends of her short hair just long enough to brush against her shoulders as she read the story written in the dust. Someone had sprawled awkwardly to the floor here. They had scrambled for their feet. There were four streaks at the further edge, the desperate tracks of fingertips as someone clawed themselves into motion.

The streaks were quite thin. Too thin to have been left by adult hands.

"Nightwing," she said, her voice quiet but cutting easily through the nonsense ramblings of the kidnapper. She did not say anything else, did not even wait to see if Nightwing so much as glanced up at her as she followed the desperate, flighty footprints--

Cassandra vaulted the counter much as the girl had, her own hand set deliberately to the side of the smudged handprint the child had left behind, leaving it intact, and raced, silent and fleet-footed through the backroom and out into the alleyway at the back of the building. There was no dust here to preserve the child's path. There was a security camera on the building across the street.

She tapped the comm in her ear. Oracle was busy with the Birds tonight, but she was not the only member of their team capable of accessing camera footage. "Agent A, pull any footage you can find of my location from the last half hour. Please," she added, belated, as she leapt up to catch the smooth metal pipe of a piece of scaffolding and pulled herself up onto the platform. The tarp attached to the next level up flapped in the chill Gotham breeze.

"What am I looking for?" Alfred asked crisply, forgiving her slip in manners without comment. They worked urgent, desperate jobs, which often left little room for niceties. Besides, even at her worst Cassandra was still more polite than Bruce.

"Thirteen-year-old girl, African American. Barefoot. Her mother said she was wearing a purple shirt and blue jeans when she was taken. She probably still is."

The child did not appear to have been pursued, based on the dust trail through the store; Cassandra believed she must have broken herself free in the chaos of Nightwing's appearance, unwitting or untrusting as to his ability to help her. She was unlikely to have made it far. Her dust trail showed clearly that she was no longer wearing the black converse her mother had described, though Cassandra had no way of knowing what had happened to them in the last six hours.

From the higher vantage point of the scaffolding--left behind after an ill-fated attempt to rennovate the building behind the old candy shop--Cassandra studied the nearby intersections of the alleyways. So many directions the girl could have run. Too many.

She was smart enough to use a distraction to run, and probably smart enough to head for her mother, but did she know where she was? Did she know which direction would take her back to her apartment?

Cassandra let the scene wash over her, trusting her body to sense more than her conscious mind could notice. It was different from how Bruce worked a crime scene, from her brothers and Stephanie and even Tim, though his deductions sometimes seemed similarly instinctive because of the speed with which his sharply analytical mind moved.

But then, Cassandra herself worked differently than they did. With effort, she could always puzzle out her own thought processes, painstakingly convert them to causes and effects and trains of logic which another could understand, but she was rarely conscious of them happening that way in the moment. The others saw the landscape with its subtle details and its clues; Cassandra saw how a person could, would, might move through it.

(For example: the child was thirteen, intelligent, brave, panicked. She would pursue distance first, before she slowed down to try and figure out her plan. She would avoid open space; empty streets. She would avoid the broken glass of the beer bottle shattered across the ground, and if she had failed to, there would be the sheen of blood in the distant light of the street lamp. All Cassandra could see was green.

Those many potential escape routes whisked themselves away, one by one, until Cassandra had just a few left to contemplate.)

"I'm heading east," Cassandra told Nightwing over the comms, her voice a murmur in the night. "Take the north when you're done inside, if Agent A hasn't turned up anything by then."

The comm double-clicked in confirmation, and Cassandra climbed swiftly and silently from the scaffolding to the rooftop, heading east along the alleyway, eyes sharp and ears sharper. The night washed over her, its chill seeping insidiously beneath her body armor but held at bay by the burn of her muscles from a hard night of patrol.

Nightwing was in Gotham for the week while Batman was out of town with the Justice League; he'd been flagged down by the stolen girl's determined, terrified mother even before the Bat Signal had lit the night sky. Tasha Martin said she was glad she'd found him and not the Bat, because she'd always found that Batman to be a very suspicious character. Forty minutes later, Commissioner Gordon had been briefly lost for words when Robin informed him, tartly, that Nightwing was already in hot pursuit of the men Leila Martin's father had hired to kidnap her two days before the custody hearing, and unless there was something else he needed to talk about, then Robin was too busy with his own cases to waste any more time talking to him.

(Oracle, always multi-tasking, had unmuted herself on their comms just long enough to laugh her ass off before she returned to whatever mischief Huntress and the Black Canary had become embroiled in.)

Nightwing had requested Black Bat for back up when the night stretched onwards with little progress. Kidnappings were incredibly time sensitive, he'd said, and clearly he needed another detective on the case. The words still glowed in Cassandra's chest, hours later. Even after years spent in this life, even having held down the entirety of Hong Kong on her own for months the way Nightwing held Blüdhaven and Batman had once solitarily held Gotham, it felt sometimes as if her value was located solely in her fists and not her mind.

She couldn't blame that feeling on her family; her own doubt was too insidious. She knew she was observant and intelligent, more than capable of making the leaps of logic required for detective work, but she also knew that she struggled with the soft skills. She didn't have the network of informants that Red Hood had or the well-established, well-trusted aliases of Batman. She wasn't as effortlessly charming as Batgirl or Nightwing, or even as sharply meticulous as Robin.

Cassandra knew that she had her own talents. That she'd been the primary Bat of Blüdhaven, Hong Kong, and Gotham alike at various points, that she'd clawed together the clues to Batman's disappearance and simultaneously dismantled a large portion of the League of Assassins with minimal assisstance. It was still too easy at times to fall back on the first language she'd ever known and let someone else take point on the detective work.

But not tonight.

The red Impala caught her attention because it stopped for a stoplight. It had been close enough to the intersection when the light turned yellow that a brief, minor increase of speed could have easily kept it from being caught at the light--but it stopped, gently and easily and inconspicuously.

("Smart criminals," Bruce's voice murmured in her subconscious, a lesson from her Batgirl days, "don't drive like get away drivers. They do the speed limit. They use their blinkers. They don't give cops reasons to pull them over.")

Cassandra came to a stop, crouched on the corner of the roof overlooking the intersection. "Agent A," she murmured, "can you tell me what kind of vehicle Howie Martin drives?"

(She had covered several blocks now. It had been just over thirty-four minutes since Nightwing had crashed into the candy store. If the child had thought she had put enough distance between herself and her kidnappers, she might have ventured onto the main street, hoping for a landmark to turn her back towards her home. With the one way streets between here and the closest major interchange, her father would likely have ended up on this street on his way to the candy shop from another part of the city. How long would it take him to subdue a thirteen-year-old girl?)

"A red Chevy Impala," Alfred answered. "License plate--"

"C87 XJU," Cassandra murmured.

"Precisely."

"You have eyes on it?" Nightwing asked sharply.

"Yes."

Alfred rattled off Cassandra's location so that Nightwing could rendezvous, knowing that she had already tuned them both out.

The traffic light turned green. Before Howie Martin could take his foot off of the brake, the Black Bat had dropped from the sky to land neatly on the crosswalk, directly in front of his car.

They stared at each other through the windshield, Martin's eyes wide and bloodshot; the Bat's shadow stretching ominously across the ground from the single, flickering halogen street lamp that illuminated the street. The figure she cut was unnerving. Silent. Tattered cloak and bandage wrapped hands, dark hair, sharp mask.

Martin attempted to point his car around her, and the Bat stalked, silently, to keep herself directly in front of him. He swallowed hard.

His hand shook as he rolled the window down, but he did a decent job of holding his voice steady as he called out, "Look, I don't want no trouble, all right?"

"Where is your daughter, Mr. Martin?" Cassandra asked. She did not have to raise her voice for it to cut like a knife through the night. "Is she in your trunk?"

Startled, frightened, Howie Martin slammed his foot down on the gas pedal--

Black Bat was already moving, her leap taking her to the hood of the car and then sliding neatly to the roof, her fingers digging into the lip between roof and windshield to keep her in place as the vehicle lurched underneath her. She leaned over, fearless in her trust of her own grip, and reached through the open window to unlock and then open the car door--

Martin shouted something that she was too focused to parse, scrabbling to grab the door before it could swing too far open, and Cassandra obligingly slammed it back towards him. His elbow bent strangely when the door contacted solidly with his reaching palm, and Martin howled with pain and rage but had the forethought to slam on the brakes.

Black Bat rolled neatly as her momentum threw her forward off of the car, the rubber tread of her boots biting into the asphalt as she skidded to a stop. She sprang back towards the car, faster than any human without a metagene had any right to be, and bounced Martin's forehead off of the steering wheel before handcuffing him to it. Then she threw the car into park and stole the keys.

"Subdued," she said, simply, and Nightwing huffed a laugh over the comms. She could see the lithe shadow of him in her periphery, still several buildings away.

"Of course he is."

Cassandra moved to the trunk of the car, where muffled banging and groaning was clearly emanating from, now that the engine had cut off. It was an older vehicle, maybe from the nineties or 2000s, requiring her to manually insert a key in order to open the trunk.

"Hello," she told Leila, as the child blinked up at her against the sudden light. Her hands were bound behind her, and she was gagged with a rag and duct tape. "Your mother is very worried about you."

#cassandra cain #dick grayson #the tim&steph role swap au #I wrote this #I continue to chug along on the spooky tim-centric case fic (which also ft. a lot of cass!) but I wanted to post a new entry #so we get this! because I have been thinking about cass and detective work a lot #it's technically in the au but like... nothing has substantially changed about cass except her soul-searching father- #rescuing road trip so. you can enjoy this with no knowledge of the previous entries in the au.