They gathered around the table, speaking of old times and new as the children played, running along the table as Elizabeth and Jacob sat side by side. Scattered across their plates were a variety of wonders, including different assortments of meat and vegetables, that together made a balanced meal, topped off with a dessert. But Elizabeth didn't pay much mind to the finer details of things; instead, the smell of rotten flesh mixed with expired produce made her salivate, and to only sweeten the deal, she had good company to eat it with.
Jacob fiddled with the utensils, sliding them through his hands until he put them between his middle and ring finger and squeezed.
"Thank you, Anne, this meal looks great," he said, plunging the fork into the slab of meat, sloshing it around until he lifted it from the plate, landing with a splat as it detached.
"It's a surprise you decided to come visit Mr.Fowler," Schwartz said, taking one hard look at Jacob, only to continue eating his food.
"I forgot to tell you, didn't I!" Elizabeth said, apologizing, but the family didn't seem to mind. They'd been friends for years, so why would they? And the kids were having such fun around, buzzing with energy, shouting to the high heavens in unison.
"Jacob ain't real, Jacob ain't real, Jacob ain't real".
Elizabeth laughed for a moment, catching one of the little boys by the arm as they passed.
"Now that isn't nice, ******". He didn't seem to understand what she meant and only tilted his head.
"But he isn't," he said.
"Norman, don't be rude to our guests. Now both of you, apologize to Mr. Fowler before your food gets cold," Anne said, stomping her foot into the floor with force, but not enough to be considered angry, more so fed up. Reluctantly, after exchanging a moment of silence between the two boys, they apologized.
"We're sorry, Mr. Monster." It was sincere; Elizabeth couldn't deny that.
Anne pinched her temple and sighed. "That's not what I meant," she said.
"It's fine; he doesn't mind. Right, honey?". Elizabeth nudged him with her elbow, bouncing off his body.
He watched as the boys ran away from the table and into the kitchen. With bulbous, wide eyes, he continued to track their movement even through the wall.
"Yes, I don't mind". Jacob said, turning back toward his plate, as he continued to eat. "I love kids".
"Oh, you do?" Schwartz said, shooting Elizabeth a scandalous glare.
"Don't even say it," Elizabeth shot back, pointing her fork at Schwartz, and he raised his hands in defeat.
"So what's the occasion, Mr. Fowler? It's not often we see you around here. Special occasion?" Schwartz asked.
Mr. Fowler slowly turned toward Elizabeth and nodded. "I wanted to understand something. Things are becoming much clearer now".
"Well, it's our pleasure that we could help! But you couldn't have come at a worse time. Since this morning, things around here have been rather…" Anne said.
"Chaotic," Elizabeth said.
"Right, right, chaotic, that's the word".
"This morning?" Mr. Fowler asked. "Oh, that's right, this morning. Yes, it was shocking. Yes, I felt the same way; we must've all felt the same way. Terrible, awful thing that was".
"Don't go against the grain there, Mr. Fowler," Schwartz laughed.
"Against the grain? No, of course not. It's a tragedy what happened. But perhaps it was for a greater purpose. What do you think, Marie? Do you believe that if the actions you saw this morning were for a just cause, would it be justified?".
Without a second of hesitation, Elizabeth responded, "No, nothing that terrible could be justified".
"No? Then what made your choice justified?" He bared his teeth, and the world around them shook. "What made you think returning was the right choice?" What made my birth a necessary change? Why, tell me why you refuse—
They gathered around the table, an awkward silence developing among the three of them. No one knew how to start a conversation with someone cursed with the white stripes. Not that Elizabeth wanted to talk, but being in a stranger's house in complete silence didn't invite a welcoming supper. The kids, however, couldn't care less about the sudden company and only talked amongst themselves as their third child watched from afar. Sitting on a stool, underneath the veil of darkness that entrapped some parts of their apartment. A curious little man he was; he wouldn't blink, he wouldn't waver; it disgusted Elizabeth to her core.
"Didn't you have—"
"Why don't we talk about our lives, Elizabeth? That hair of yours, what does it mean?" Schwartz said.
"Sorry, but I'm not comfortable talking about that to strangers."
"Why don't we talk about your life, Elizabeth? That hair of yours, what does it mean?" Anne urged.
"I—I…" The one question she didn't want to answer, she refused even the basis of it. It was something she'd never want to talk about, and shouldn't if she didn't want to; it was her right as a free-thinking being with choices of her own and insecurities that should remain hidden under years of grime and dust. Even so, she spoke.
"It's a sign of calamity. I've only read about it, but the White Book says that a crossbreed of Schnee and a human is a damnation against the correct order of the world." She said as tears streamed down.
"That must've been awful, Elizabeth, so awful for you. Being the only of your kind, being so isolated, away from it all, from them all. What stops you from forgetting it? Forgetting the book, forgetting the rules, and living amongst them?"
"I don't know…"
Schwartz and Anne began blending into one conglomerate of a gray blob with no discernible features besides a mouth in the center. A shifting mass that dripped substances that smelled of a wound in a constant state of oozing, purulent.
" I feel the same way. Why must I shield myself from those who look like me, even if it requires a sacrifice? You've given me much clarity in my actions. That the sacrifices I make might be justified just as yours, the next of your actions have meaning behind them, so will mine. At the crossroads, which path will we take? I want to live long enough to know what my meaning is here. And if your heart tells you to stop me, to prevent us from reaching the crossroads, then let it be. I will do as I must to find the light and become just like you—
She sat in the empty living room; a split table lay in the remains of a ravaged building by an unknown assailant. What was left in its wake was Gray. Gray had consumed everything, color, all life that had once remained, and in the center was Elizabeth, looking ahead into a broken wall that viewed over a once lush field. Gray took away the light, and they grasped at the last of it, wilting and afraid in their last moments. The only origin of this light was the moon and the horrible effects it brought with it. This wasn't a three-month winter; this was the end, and the only one left to see it was Elizabeth. The last to witness the end of all things and the last to see the shadowed being lying on the field of decay, pointing at the sky.
With a slow ascension, it rose from the ground, planting its hind legs first, uprooting a flurry of flowers into the air. Stretching, extending to the monster's very limits, made it clear that it had skin as each contortion released a pop.
When trapped inside the illusion of an Erebus Spawn, there was only so much a person could do inside of it. But there was something she could do if only she could take one word, just a single phrase, and there was a chance she could escape its grasp. Would it even allow it? What were the chances it'd even work — no, it needed to, without it, she would give up all hope. If it didn't work, it'd get exactly what it wanted, but it was because of years of paranoia that it took three scenarios to get her here. She had the upper hand; all there was to do was to wait.
It soared from its feet, standing erect, the top of its body breaking past the limit the torn wall provided her to the outside world. With each step sending lower tremors throughout the dilapidated house, it turned towards her and kneeled, its face blending into the darkness, only a mass of incomprehensible flesh and dread.
"What do you know about me?" Its authentic voice was a sorry excuse for an attempt at the human language. It knew words, just as any other shadowed beast; it knew how to construct them, but in this case, it was all a gurgled mess like a baby speaking for the first time. If what she knew of it was right, then this thing was just born yesterday, and yet it'd come so close to human dialect.
This thing can't be kept alive.
"I have gaps in my memory — no, not gaps, there isn't anything there at all, I think. So why is that, in your memories, there exist others of me?" What's it talking about? Has it already taken some of my memories? What's the point then?
"That must mean there's an answer, doesn't there? If I look further into your mind, what will I find? You mind if I have a gander?" Its bright white teeth broke through the darkness as a smile formed across its face.
It extended one hand, its bony figure popping with each click of its bone, blaring out as it reached to grab her. In one second of clarity, Elizabeth managed to speak aloud one word. It was within range now.
"Sehkmet".
With one graze of its finger touching her skin, and a surge of light pierced out, bursting into an explosion of flame—
She clenched her chest, her body against the wall. Struggling to pick the pieces of her mind, scattered, tethered by what remained inside, pushed her further down, but she resisted.
Through the hazy image of the apartment, she forced herself toward an unlit candle that was in the center of the table where Anne had set up dinner. All light in the apartment had ceased to be, but for people who spent much of their lives in complete darkness, she could see through the veil it had consumed the environment with. But even then, it was horrible to traverse in, as if a heavy blanket was pressing down on her shoulders, and if she relaxed even for a moment, she'd go down with it. Making such a dire decision, it was only a matter of time until the spell that tore it from her mind began taking its effect. And for the next one to finish her off, as with no way to find a lighter, she forced herself in front of the candle and whispered into the wick, drawing enough flame to ignite it.
Instantly, the darkness surrounding the room vanished, blowing it outside in a gust of violent wind. Only when she was sure all of it was gone did she collapse, preparing for the ramifications as her nausea had turned to a white hot pain that mimicked every movement, every noise she'd squeal from her torment to cause further harm. Each time her mind attempted to give up, prevent additional damage, save its host, her vision tunneling, darkness attempting to sift its way through, it'd come back, bringing her to the reality of agony that made her skin feel inflamed with each piece individually being torn, only for the sensation and the cycle to continue. After five minutes of torment, Elizabeth shot up from the ground, a blood-curdling scream erupting from within her as she fell from the bed and onto the floor, her attention gravitating toward the window. It watched from the other side and scurried away.