The night was dark, dry and dreary. Titania was, as she ever was, tending to the plants she so diligently cared for in her own bedroom one last time before she finally decided to lay down and sleep for the night… if she could, that was. She had been plagued with a bout of insomnia for a little while now— nothing major in the grand scheme of things, especially with her long lifespan, but it still proved to be quite the inconvenience. She glanced out of her window, sighing wearily. They were due for a rainy spell soon, but for now, dry as it was, the weather outside was ample for the villagers in getting out and doing things.
Alone she stood, in the dark, looking almost-wistfully at the sea below the cliffs… until she heard a brewing commotion outside, that was, one which only grew louder and louder as she tried to ignore it. For the community to be getting this loud at night, especially without stopping, surely meant something was up— the occasional disturbance was not entirely out of the ordinary, and for supposed larger threats there were false alarms notably infrequently, but those always tended to settle down rather quickly.
This one, however, did not. So, Titania decided, she would go see what all the fuss was about.
As she pulled an old cloak over her shoulders, Oberon was quick to join her, padding beside her with his ever-so-slight limp like a dog at her feet. Out the front door she went; down the beaten path, she could see a great congregation — essentially everyone was there, as far as she could tell — encircling… something, though she couldn’t tell what exactly through the throng of people. Whatever it was, it was obviously important enough to warrant a disturbance, so she surefootedly hurried down the trail.
The crowd parted for her, some even bowing their heads as she passed. As they moved aside for her, she could more clearly make out what exactly it was they were so fussed about… It was a… witch, she supposed, and though its head was bowed, a sinking feeling had welled up in the demon’s chest as she looked upon it. A stranger, but a curiously familiar one at that, kneeling down in the dirt and looking absolutely disheveled, trembling in a once-white cloak that was now laden with dirt and shredded in what looked to have been a mighty struggle — and though what she saw next wasn’t quite right, it was close enough that it was almost enough to frighten the old woman; as they turned their head up to look at her, she saw them for who they were — someone wearing the face of her dead friend. She could only stare.
This stranger, whoever he was (she had a nagging feeling she knew what he was, but that wasn’t of equal importance… it was important to recognize his personhood above all, after all…), obviously noticed her staring; he didn’t seem to know quite what to do, but he seemed afraid to lose her gaze, as if he might face retribution for it. So, he just shook harder and, to the demon’s perception, somehow increasingly nervously. Titania’s eyes were studying his face, or what she could make out of it through all the blood and dirt and awfully matted hair that was swept across his face; in the initial shock, Titania’s mind had somehow cast it aside, but now that she was actually getting a good look at him she could see that he had some very nasty wounds indeed. If her first-impressions and her subsequent assumptions were true, too, this was no good at all; she could only hope he hadn’t been followed. If he had, well… she didn’t want to think about it, not too hard. They would do what they could; prioritizing the safety of her charges would be the safest plan, but that would potentially involve turning away this stranger… and from the looks of him, he wasn’t going to make it out on his own. He was, in fact, very diminutive in size and stature (or, well, whatever stature he had, that she could gather from watching him sit like a wilting flower in the dirt) and rather sickly looking— from the looks of him, she’d estimate he was in his early teens at the most, probably around twelve or thirteen, which only made her frown deeper, albeit unconsciously. To turn him away was to send him right back to his death.
None of this was anything she could have ever fathomed, truly— for a little stranger to come and upset the rhythm of the village’s daily life, of her daily life, wearing a face that was a borderline facsimile of her old friend’s, a face she’d mourned for years for her involvement in its destruction— it was almost too much to bear. A large part of her apparent disdain had little to do with the stranger at all, though. Most of it came from the horrible hunch she had about exactly what had led this newcomer to her island at all, and perhaps even worse, the reason for his very existence in the first place. She indulged that prior nagging feeling a little bit, mulling over the circumstances; this was all too similar to some of the old family legends she’d gotten into, and maybe now she was beginning to understand at her ripe age exactly why her parents had hidden so many things from her. Perhaps sometimes it was better not to know these things, to believe in coincidence instead.
She hadn’t even noticed how hard she had been frowning, or even that she had been staring for that matter, until Madeleine’s kind-yet-assertive voice pulled her from her introspection. She had obviously noticed that the village chief’s cold and dissociative demeanor had been… adversely affecting the newcomer, to put it lightly and in a manner that was perhaps a bit too detached. Indeed, he wasn’t meeting her gaze anymore, instead opting to remain hunched over and staring at the ground, blood very obviously continuing to collect uncomfortably on the ground beneath him.
“Titania…”
Titania shook her head absentmindedly to clear it, running a clawed hand across her brow. “Madeleine,” she said, looking out into the crowd, her voice stern and commanding. “Come forward.”
The other witch, naturally, was quick to come forward, the group parting to make way for her just as they had with Titania. Titania nodded, a gesture of respectful acknowledgement. “Help me out here.” she gestured downward. “Please.”
Madeleine, in turn, nodded too, then knelt down beside the kid with a reassuring manner that looked almost foreign to the demon; a manner Titania felt as if she had long forgotten in her years of leadership. He didn’t respond, having now moved himself to hide his battered face in his knees. It was deeply unnerving to watch, what with him not caring about the fact that he was moving right through the mud he’d created by bleeding all over the damned ground. Some indescribable pang of emotion shot through Titania’s heart.
The demon sighed, one hand pressed firmly to her cheek in thought, before she, too, decided that she could at least try and offer some sort of aid. It was asking a lot of Madeleine, even if this particular bit of communication was largely unspoken, to provide aid to this complete stranger, although she knew the witch and her had kindred spirits of sorts. Madeleine was not one to let someone suffer. She took great pride in the fields of helping and healing, even when doing so got difficult, and she worked with a necessary tenderness that Titania had all but lost.
Kneeling down beside Madeleine and in front of the… well, still the stranger, she felt the other witch’s gaze fall upon her— it probably wasn’t a judgmental gaze, but as tough as she was, Titania couldn’t help but feel cowed anyway. Regardless she gathered her composure.
“...Hey,” she said, doing her best to put on the now-uncharacteristic softness that she’d grown unaccustomed to. Her effort, at least, was enough to get him to look at her again, peeking at her with a single eye over the very top of his knee in an eerily familiar fashion that could have taken her aback if she wasn’t doing her best to ignore all of that right now for his sake (and maybe for Madeleine’s; gods forbid she give her two people to look after tonight). She took a deep breath. “Look. I… well, I apologize, for my… erm, poor manners, before. My behaviour wasn’t your fault, and you haven’t done anything wrong. You’re…” she hesitated. Questioning him right now, even in the slightest sense of the word, was a bad idea, as was saying anything that might be misconstrued as even mildly accusatory. From how it looked “...you’re safe now. I promise.” She extended a clawed hand, as gently as she could. “How about we go and get you cleaned up?”
He seemed… wary, still, reasonably so. She mostly expected him not to try and take her hand at all, and though it wouldn’t be her first choice (more of a last resort, really) she also wasn’t opposed to simply dragging him along, though she doubted that would leave a very good impression… though she also was willing to sacrifice that if it meant it was for his own greater good. With the state he was in, she was surprised he was even still alive, but it surely meant he was stronger than he looked now… or was, right now, half dead and trembling like a leaf.
To her surprise, he reached out gingerly with one bloody hand (...that would also be a problem) and, to the best of his ability, took hers in his. She smiled carefully, without too many sharp teeth, giving him a moment before she rose to her feet and started to lift him up with her, Madeleine supporting him. Perhaps predictably, however, his shaky legs were in no state to support him— he’d not finished taking one step before they gave out beneath him, though the two witches at his side were quick to catch him on either side. Madeleine gave Titania a pleading look (she was strong, but not necessarily in the field of “carrying people”), and with a returned look of acknowledgement Titania ever so carefully scooped up the young one in a strong embrace, reminiscent of the way she’d had to carry Silas back when they’d first met… but in contrast to Silas, who was at least dense enough that he felt like he was made of something, this stranger felt like nothing. It only made Titania feel increasingly bad, if that were possible, considering how terrible everything else was consistently making her feel at the moment.
The two witches made their way back to Madeleine’s own home, together, a quaint little abode that doubled as the healer’s hut in the daytime (or in the nighttime, if need was severe enough). The crowd tailed them, the especially curious trying to steal glances at Titania’s newest charge (she thanked the gods that it was night time, and no children were out, lest she end up with more than one traumatized child tonight) as she hurried along gruffly, shielding him from some of the bolder villagers; as soon as she could, she slipped through Madeleine’s doorway, and the other witch bid the others goodbye as she shut the door. The healer methodically moved throughout the house, drawing the curtains and lighting the place up, before beckoning Titania into a windowless room and once again shutting the door behind them. The extra security was a bonus, to say the least.
Madeleine gestured to a clean yet comfortable looking reclining chair next to a quaint looking side table while she gathered some materials from a nearby cabinet. “Set him down there,” she said firmly; in her element, she was equally as capable of being as commanding as Titania was, which was only one of the many reasons Titania respected her so. The demon followed suit, gently propping up the young stranger in the chair and stepping back as Madeleine swooped in to do her part of the work. Titania alternated between watching and not, especially when she was consumed by her own thoughts, though she staunchly refused to leave even when the option was offered to her and even as she spent most of her time staring blankly out the window lost in thought. Maybe it was guilt and maybe it was some other sense of duty, but all the same she wanted to stay… there were a few other reasons, too, but she pushed those to the back of her mind for now. What was most important at the moment was, really, getting the kid cared for, and ensuring that he at least wouldn’t die on the spot.
A good while later, Madeleine stepped back with a whispered “there we are”, turning to look at Titania. “He… well, he fell asleep—”
“...And you’re sure he didn’t just decide to die?” Titania asked, semi-jokingly, attempting to lighten the air a bit but also doing her very best not to let on how incredibly worried she was about all of this. Madeleine, having obviously sensed this (though it wouldn’t take a miracle worker to figure it out), rolled her eyes.
“I’m very sure, Titania. I’m a healer, remember?”
“I do remember, thankfully.” The demon answered, moving to sit in another chair, this one on the other side of the small side table.
“Good. Well, you’re welcome to stay in here until he wakes up, at which point I’d recommend you take him somewhere he can get cleaned up, at least. You know where the bathroom is in my house, so I’m leaving that responsibility up to you. I’ll have some clothes ready in there for him by the time you get around to that, oh… heavens know I’ll be doing enough cleaning for the chair…” she replied, gesturing pointedly at the very-much-no-longer-clean chair, and its occupant’s… horrific state, cleanliness and clothing wise. Madeleine had cleaned up the wounds and the areas around them, but the rest of him… not so much. “Regardless. His wounds are all fixed up, though they’re unfortunately going to leave some rather nasty scars, mostly from being left so long, though there also seemed to be some sort of residual curse magic… and some of them were pretty deep. We're incredibly lucky to have magic... it's not every day I have to try and stitch a child back together like this, like some handcrafted lusus naturae, and if he hadn't have showed up when he did, well... I think he would have died, Titania. Whoever... whatever did that was very obviously aiming to kill him... he must have traveled a long way, but I don’t quite know… how. It’s not like he had a palisman with him or anything. Very strange indeed. Where’d’you think he came from?”
“The Isles, probably.”
“You reckon?”
“I do. They're the most populated place for miles and miles, and I've got a hunch. ...And they were only getting worse when I left,” she shuddered at the thought of her final few hours there, “I can only imagine what they’re like now.”
“...I’ve never been.”
“Trust me, you're not missing out on much. It’s not that grand of a place, especially not when that old geezer was around and running his mouth about that unholy coven system,” she spat, resting her chin on a propped-up palm. “Pah. Who’d want their magic sealed away, anyway?”
“Hm. I… don’t know. I… maybe people like me?”
Titania raised an eyebrow, affixing her with a solid and questioning glare out of the corner of her eye. “And what do you mean by that?”
“I mean, people like me who… you know, know what type of magic they like to do, what kind of magic they’re good at. Who they are. Where their specialty lies. I guess they’d be willing to give up everything else for that. I mean, I guess it’d save you the hassle of… oh, I don’t know! Just… the complications of… living. Thinking about stuff too hard. You'd have one path to follow, instead of having a dozen different things to worry about.”
“I suppose. Would you?”
Madeleine seemed to consider it for a moment, before shaking her head. “Would I give up my wild magic? ...No, I don’t think I would. I do really love healing, and I know I’m good at it, but I also wouldn’t trade my other magic for the world. I like having the freedom to experiment— really, I like being free, even with all the messiness of it. Of being me.”
Titania sighed.
“...Me too.”