If You Give a Rat a Cookie... [writing]In a small white house on a ragged old road, a man returned home. The smile that parted his lips gave his expression a sharp quality that, while foreign to many of the faces of his modern fellows, was more than fitting on his own. It graced his visage for every reason and no reason at all. He took several steps into his own living space, shadowed by a teenager much younger than him, much smaller than him, but just the same as he was at that age in all the ways that mattered to them. No grin cut across the kid's face, but their eyes held the same ferocity. Wild and excited, they followed the man to a coffee table in the center of the room. He sat down on a blanket-covered couch, and they followed suit in an armchair perpendicular to it. The man set a paper bag down on the table. The teenager watched it as it went, glancing up once or twice to meet the eyes of the one holding it there. The man let go of the bag, set his elbows on his knees, and leaned forward to return their gaze. Both parties looked at each other, looked at the bag, and back again. Neither moved toward the item on the table. The shuffling of small clawed feet on the carpet grew steadily louder, accompanied by the occasional squeak of the floorboards. A long nose peeked over the edge of the coffee table. It sniffed around for a few moments before disappearing, only to pop back up as the rest of its body jumped up onto the table. It was a large rat, clearly well-fed and sleek-furred, patched gray and white all over its body. Both individuals sat still with bated breath as the rodent padded toward the bag and took a whiff of it. They tensed as it looked over at each of them, its beady eyes considering both figures seated around the platform upon which it stood. After far too many prolonged, harrowing seconds, the rat finally turned to the bag, gripped it firmly in its mouth, and began dragging it along the surface… directly toward the figure in the armchair. "Yes! " The kid in question exclaimed quietly, so as not to spook the small creature that had single-handedly decided their win. They stood briefly from their seat to strike a victorious pose at the man in front of them, but sat down again rather quickly to take the item that the rat was offering. Skylar Zawinul reached into the paper bag, retrieved a donut and a cookie, and gave the rodent some well-deserved love and attention (and maybe a tiny piece of their winnings). The man on the couch, called by the name Vendyr, rolled his eyes. "Alright, kid, come on," he said, his voice light and raspy, "Sharing is caring and all that." He moved to reach for the bag, but Skylar playfully batted his hand away. "Nuh-uh," they retorted through the pastry in their mouth, " I am sharing, see? I care!" They motioned toward their other hand, which was held closer to the floor in order to distribute small crumbs of oatmeal cookie to several other rats that had begun to funnel into the room. Another one poked her head out of Vendyr's sleeve to join them, but he scooped her up onto his shoulder just before she made the leap, where she then rested contently for the time being. "You're not sharing with me!" The man reached again for the bag, only to have it stolen from his grasp mere millimeters away. "Hey! I bought them!" Skylar stuck their tongue out in response, and went to put their hand back in for another treat, only to find that the bag had disappeared from their possession. They whipped their head around to look for it, but locked right back in on Vendyr when he let out a maniacal chuckle. He was chewing on a donut of his own in one hand, a suspiciously familiar paper bag being held in the other. "Wh– hey! How do you always– give it back!" The kid stumbled over their words as they scrambled over to him, carefully avoiding stepping on any rats along the way, only to stop short with an "oof," when the item was pushed into their chest halfway there. After a moment, they hurriedly snatched it away again. "You've gotta show me how to do that," they said, taking out another pastry to munch on, "I swear I wouldn't use it for evil! Trust!" "You've got plenty of your own tricks, kid. Besides," Vendyr reached up to his shoulder to pet the creature that resided there, his sharp grin sly, "a magician never reveals his secrets." Skylar pouted pitifully. Vendyr laughed. The rats shuffled about, vying for attention from their favorite people. The walls creaked every time the building shifted on its foundation, but the roof stood still above their heads even so. This house was alive; never still, never stagnant. Its current residents did not reflect on this as they continued to banter and laugh over their regular rituals, but it was important to them both nonetheless. The house was alive, and they were alive, and they didn't need introspection or sentimentality to value those things. The lingering taste of bread and sugar on their tongues did that just fine.trophySilent NightThe air had a bite to it, late that evening. Thick clouds rolled low enough to obscure the tallest buildings in the city of Aquamarina and made it seem impossibly darker in the dead of night. The occasional snowflake drifted lazily to the ground, only to melt on contact with asphalt and cement. It wasn't quite cold enough for the childlike whimsy of settled snow, but the chill in the air flew like needles in every breeze nonetheless. Jink Sonders felt colder still. Motionless as they were, they wondered briefly if a passerby would see them and deem them a statue; a gargoyle, discarded on the ground and left to play sentry over the abandoned factory on the edge of town. If someone were so daring, Jink was sure that a touch to their skin would feel colder than the winter air around them. They crouched, motionless, at the side of the road and stared unblinkingly at the factory. They were so, so tired, yet their eyes remained open and their face impassive. They needed to watch it. They were the only one who could. Jink breathed. Jink blinked. The factory remained as a corpse of itself. The air was silent, even with the city behind them. With how late it was, that was unsurprising. Most people slept at night, and woke for work in the morning. Most people grieved things that were gone and moved on with their lives. Most people did not sit in the dirt staring at old, abandoned buildings at two in the morning. Jink gritted their teeth. They remembered a great many wonderful things, before they first showed up here, and now it was all rotten and bitter. The memories infuriated them. Jink glared at the structure. The factory stood still and dead, as it should. With a long, resigned exhale, Jink rose to their feet. Their clothes shuffled as they adjusted the strap on their shoulder and moved the collar of their coat back over it. Firm metal pressed uncomfortably against their body on their back and hip, even through their clothing. It was well worth it to be prepared, though. Giving one last glance at the factory, they turned to leave, reaching into their pockets to pull out a matchbox and a cigarette. They lit a match with some difficulty, given the stubborn breeze, and eventually managed to get their cigarette to smoke before putting the box away and taking a drag. Even the sound of their footsteps was muffled in the cursed winter air. Jink blew out a plume of dark smoke and pretended as though it was their breath clouding the air. It was almost funny. They were so cold, and they were so tired. They needed to get back to their apartment. As they neared the city proper again, however, Jink stopped. A subtle sound rang on the wind, just barely audible above the steady rhythm of their boots on the ground. They listened closely, turning to locate where, exactly, it was coming from. It hung oddly in the air, like early morning fog, so it took a few moments for Jink to realize that it was coming from the empty shell of a building that they had just left behind. They blinked at it, and strained to hear the noise it made. It was a song, they found. Low and steady, and achingly familiar, it made Jink's heart tighten the same way that thinking about the factory always did. Silent Night, the tune dictated, a hauntingly sure assessment of the scenery mere minutes prior. In a better time, in a better place, Jink remembered themself with a ragtag group of people, rowdy and excited for… oh, God. It was Christmas, wasn't it? Jink ripped their eyes away from the building behind them, searching their memory instead. They hadn't missed the holidays entirely, of course, they'd noticed the hustle and bustle of the city, but… oh, today was definitely Christmas. They would have forgotten. How could they have forgotten? The last few months had been hectic, sure, what with getting roped into magical conflicts and power struggles that were frankly far above their pay grade, but they always did something each year, at least; even if the day was spent alone in their apartment. This had been such an important thing for all of them, and Jink had forgotten! No, no, that was unfair, they reasoned. Jink took a breath, and gazed back at the factory. They furrowed their brows and took another drag of their cigarette. Their proximity to that dead place was what was making them feel so awful, they rationalized. Jink had settled firmly into their new life after everything had happened, and they stayed far away from meddling in anything that would take away that peace. Now, however, they found themself in the thick of it again, by no choice of their own. Fate , they thought wryly. What a fickle thing. The faint, eerie singing continued. Jink huffed indignantly. The factory was still only a corpse of itself. Even still, before they could will their feet to move, Jink took another long look at the ugly, terrible structure. Their heart was a little lighter now, their eyes a little brighter. "If you're still around…" They trailed off momentarily, seeming to think over their words carefully. "If you're still around, then… have a good Christmas. Take care of yourselves." Jink then turned with purpose and strode away from the place that haunted them, the place with memories that they did not think about. The voice that drifted from its walls didn't follow them home, and the tool at Jink's side didn't put another bullet through one of the factory's windows. They were even, Jink supposed. The city of Aquamarina was silenced by the cold air and low, drifting clouds that hid the stars in the sky far better than any glaring lights could. Light flurries drifted to the ground with a grace almost unknown to the land of steel and stone. Cheerful holiday displays in store windows now sat dark and lonely as a single figure walked with purpose along the streets. Well behind them, snow began to collect on the foliage that grew all over the factory. A vine twitched, then stilled. In separate places across the city, a single thought was shared. A silent night. A silent night, indeed.Date Night"Are you sure we can't just st-stay in tonight? Watch a movie or som-something?" "And miss the fireworks? Not a chance!" Marlowe twirled as she grabbed a shawl from the back of one of the dining room chairs, wrapping it around her shoulders in one swift motion. "I know people can make you nervous, Dakota, but I promise we'll have fun. You love big artsy things, that's all this is!" "I-I know, it's just..." Dakota fiddled with their hands idly, adjusting their stance from one foot to the other as they loomed nearby in the kitchen. Marlowe could hear the creaking of the floorboards as they did so. "How late are w-we staying out?" "No later than ten! We can stay in the rest of the night, okay?" She waltzed over to her partner and grasped their hands, holding them up between the two of them. "Then we can do whatever you want. A movie, a game, hell, we could even break out that old card game you were talking about yesterday! I know you've been wanting to get back into it." Dakota didn't respond right away, but Marlowe could see the thoughts churning in their head. Their eyes did not meet hers, instead gazing down at where their thumbs methodically rubbed against her hands. When they looked up, Marlowe smiled. She shook their grasped hands back and forth. "Okay," Dakota said, giving back a smile that was not as wide as hers but just as meaningful, "How ff-far did you say it was, again?" Marlowe let out a mirthful squeal before lifting up one of Dakota's hands and spinning them around, causing them to laugh in their own surprise. Both of them spent several moments like that, twirling around each other and giggling themselves silly until Dakota pulled Marlowe tighter into a real embrace. They pressed their foreheads together as the laughing died down, Dakota's hands reaching around Marlowe's waist and Marlowe's arms resting on Dakota's shoulders. "The park is about fifteen minutes, walking," Marlowe replied between breathless chuckles, "but I've got a special spot in mind that'll take a little longer. I think you'll like it." "Okay, okay! Should we ge-get going, then?" Dakota loosened their hold around her, backing away ever so slightly. Their hands still fidgeted and they were definitely biting at the inside of their cheek, but Marlowe could tell that they were excited nonetheless. That was perfectly fine; she knew her partner well enough to know that any new thing was going to make them a little anxious, but they would have fun once they were in the midst of it. Plus, it's not like they would be alone! Marlowe would be enjoying the occasion with them, guiding the experience along. With that in mind, Marlowe lowered her arms from Dakota's shoulders and took a step back of her own, holding out a hand for them to take. "As long as you're ready, dear." Dakota, of course, took the offer with their characteristic muted enthusiasm. Hand in hand, the two of them fled their apartment for the whims of the city at large. It would be the best of nights, for two lovers celebrating the gift of another day spent as one, even as the chill lingered before the arrival of true spring. Marlowe's inner fire kept them both warm, and the churning waves in Dakota's skull tempered the heat from becoming a wildfire. Young love was a wonderful thing, they learned again that night, and they both fell to sleep with a silent promise that they'd do anything to keep it that way.Red TwineDeep in the countryside, on a winding dirt road, the night found itself joined by company neither quite courteous or unkind. A party of one, by some means; a party of two by many others. In the ways that mattered that night—in the ways that often mattered in their lifetimes—they were two. Light rain fell like a haze over cultivated ground, and a single steady stream flowed under the only nearby shelter from the miserable weather: a small stone bridge, arched somewhat alike to a cat's spine. Moss crawled along the rocks and moisture dripped from its exterior, but the space beneath it remained blissfully dry (if one remained along the banks of the brook). At the base of the curved wall lay a single huddled figure. She breathed deeply and slowly, her eyes closed and face slack, her hands holding the clothing she wore tightly as if she feared it was going to be taken from her. She did not shake from the cold, but it gnawed at her regardless. In her sleep, she dreamed of love and acceptance. Under the bridge, she was alone. Amidst the haze above, a vengeful creature lay in wait. Its body coiled tightly around a wooden lamp post and its claws had left marks in the soil and stone below. Its patience was wearing thin. Two pointed ears stood alert against the silhouette; two furious eyes focused solely on the length of the road. Two identical maws hung open in anticipation of what would soon meet their teeth, each uttering a low, droning snarl to voice their disdain. Death would come to visit the bridge that night, that much was certain. Yet, the creature had not moved to pursue the girl. A chorus of hoofbeats soon began to crescendo above the rain, causing the ambient rumbling of the monster on the bridge to grow silent. It leaned forward on its perch, and watched intently as two men advanced along the road on horseback. They stopped upon reaching the bridge, and for a moment, the world stood still in solidarity. Then thunder reverberated in the distance, and the rain began to pour down with a little more ferocity than before. One of the men uttered a curse. He turned to the other, shouting a command that was lost on the creature stalking them, and both of them pushed their steeds to move forward. The horses did not budge. Another drawling rumble shook the men to their bones as they each tried to kick their horses into motion again, to no avail. As their efforts continued, the steeds began to whinny and squirm, forcing their riders to dismount rather promptly. Two pairs of boots squelched against muddy ground; two clawed hands left dreadful marks on the wooden post. The rumbling did not cease. Despite the evident displeasure of the natural world around them, the men pressed forward. They left their horses to rear up, untethered, and collected a single flame-lit lantern from one of the spooked animals before going to set foot on the bridge. They met no resistance. Their bodies vibrated in sync with the low resonance of the monster on the bridge. They continued on. Each step seemed to echo louder than the last until they reached the other side. There was no fanfare for them, unless one counted the dreary sky that continued to weep at their fates. The lantern, held firmly by the man who had shouted before, flickered passively. The one on the wooden post at the end of the bridge was dark and cold. Its anticipation was palpable. The pair of men would have passed by the area in no time at all. They would have disappeared briefly around the bend, only to return minutes later to retrieve their startled horses and return home. It was dark, and they would not have seen the tracks that led to the girl beneath the bridge. They would have deemed the search a lost cause, and declared the death of a disgraced family member the following morning. Unfortunately, they stopped. The man with the lantern turned to the unlit lamp post, approaching it with little caution as he made a move to light it with his own flame. His companion followed closely behind. One of the horses screamed. The lantern was thrusted upward toward its stationary twin, but it sooner lit a pair of gaping jaws than the wick it was intended for. A sharp cry rang over the fields as the low growl permeating the air prior rose into a snarl, and the creature on the bridge shot itself at its frightened target. The echoes of metal clattering against stone and teeth rending at flesh were lost amidst the blanket of rain, even as the second man was then pursued and caught like a rabbit by a wolf. Long white teeth gleamed red in the light of the moon through the haze. All became quiet. When it was sure that hollow bodies were all that remained of the unwelcome guests, the creature wandered mindlessly back to the bridge. Its hands sank into the mud and snagged on roots and twigs, but it did not stumble. Its body seemed to float along independent of support, trailing after twin heads each weighted by blood. The substance was hot and sticky, and incredibly uncomfortable. The warmth would have been welcome, once, but now it clung too tightly to a body more familiar with frostbite than fire. The rain would have been a much kinder skin to wear had it not begun to wane. As it was, the creature would have to make do with painting the stream in diluted shades of red. It sank beneath the surface like a stone. The girl, who had been so soundly asleep throughout most of the night, had awoken at the sounds of struggle above her only moments before. She dared not move, lest she give herself away, but her eyes were wide in search of any small movement that could threaten her in the dark. The sound of the creek made it difficult to hear anything aside from the first man's scream, but she knew what must have become of him and whatever company he may have had. She was aware of the monster above, although she had held onto the childish hope that it had left altogether. Despite her optimism, however, she was no fool. She knew it lingered nearby. Above the bridge, two unlit lanterns lay forgotten in the dark. Two bodies rested on the ground, giving their warmth to the earth and tainting the mud a deep crimson. Twin bolts of lightning pierced the horizon. The roaring they produced was comparable to a single clap of thunder, so intertwined that it was impossible to tell them apart. Under the bridge, two clawed hands rose from the creek. Two gleaming eyes upon two separate heads met with those of a young girl, whose body did not shiver from the cold. Two entities studied each other unblinkingly. The threads that tied them to the mortal realm shifted and twisted in unison, so intertwined that it was impossible to tell them apart. The girl began to cry. The monster in front of her only stared. Its judgment hung in the air like a blanket of smoke and was just as easy to breathe in. The grief would only be fleeting, but now it was a distraction. They needed to get going, immediately. “Milos,” the creature hissed, a forceful whisper that cut through the space between it and the girl, “We have to leave, Milos. Now.” “Leave me alone.” A sniffle. Her body curled inward, and she made every attempt to appear as though she was ignoring the beast altogether. Tears streamed down the side of her face. Their heat left a haze in the chilled air. “Milos—” “Stop calling me that! ” The creature tilted a single head. It gazed at her unblinkingly, daring her to go on. It could kill her, they both knew. It wouldn’t. She didn’t need to know that. Silence crept between them like a winter chill, just as ominous and just as damning. Even the water of the creek seemed to grow sluggish. Another sniffle. “…They’re gone?” she asked hesitantly after a few moments had passed. The creature drifted closer to her, away from the stream. “Dead,” it corrected simply, earning a barely-stifled cry from the girl, “they’re both dead.” “Why didn’t you just let them leave?” “Did you want them to find you?” “No! But they loved me, Kakodai!” Another sob cut her off, and she took a few seconds to catch her breath again. “I can’t… oh god, I didn’t want my family to die! ” “So you wanted them to hurt you? Kill you? ” “They wouldn’t have killed me. You’re being dramatic.” “Am I really?” The creature, Kakodai, let out a dry, humorless cackle. He pulled himself closer into the girl’s space, his tone suddenly much more low and pointed. “You know as well as I do that they would have forced you into being someone you’re not, again, and one way or another, a scared little girl named Miko would be dead under this bridge where they found her.” “You’re one to talk about trying to make me something I’m not.” “Ah, but you are Milos, I’m afraid. My presence alone is proof of that.” A wispy body twisted in the air, a trailing hand brushed against the girl’s face. “You can change your body and mind as you please, but you can’t alter your soul. Believe me, I’ve tried.” Two icy eyes met two of a murky brown, and Miko hated the fondness she saw there. It was stifling and demeaning, and it wasn’t meant for her. For far from the first time, she longed for people who loved her for her, not just a misguided idea of who she should be. She loathed a family that had wanted a son, and despised the demon whose jaws too frequently opened wounds both new and old. All of them looked at her and saw a dead man, and all of them were enamored with the idea of him. None of them knew Miko, yet they all thought they loved her regardless. That night, as had been done for a countless many before and would surely continue for countless more, Kakodai gazed at an unfamiliar face and thought longingly of someone who had died thousands of years ago. Remnants of him did still remain there, at least, and Kakodai clung tightly to the imprint of a spirit melded with his own. Despite whatever new form it might take through each incarnation, he knew they were all Milos in essence. Although, he had yet to figure out if that made it easier or harder to stick around (not that he had much of a choice in the matter). Many moments passed the two of them by as they each pondered the state of their unity. The rain had ceased its descent altogether, and the creek babbled along idly. Miko breathed heavily to relieve the pulsing heat in her veins. Kakodai dug claws into trembling limbs that grew steadily numb to the cold that seeped into them. Neither half formed a whole, but they made it work. They had to. “I hate you,” said Miko, “I wish you’d get out of my life.” Kakodai’s faces grinned. “Childish,” he barked, “childish and moronic. Get up.” Miko turned away, laying down with her back to the creature. She did not respond. His mirthful look faltered, replaced by a frustrated snarl. “Hello! Get your head out of the mud, fool! Ignoring me isn’t going to solve your problems, you’re going to die and rot under this bridge if we don’t get going! ” Kakodai pushed himself forward, reaching out a cold, clawed hand to clutch the girl’s shoulder and lurch it suddenly toward him, making her face him completely. Although caught off-guard, Miko’s expression remained unimpressed at best, and outright disgusted at worst. “Why?” She gazed at him with a heavy judgment hung on her brow. “You’ve killed two of them already, what’s a few more, huh? They’re not gonna touch you.” “So you want this rivulet to run thick with the blood you share? Do you want their bodies to sour the earth on this plain? I’m giving you an out, Miko, don’t mistake my kindness for fear.” Kakodai met her challenge with a hiss to his words. “You’re right, after all, their deaths wouldn’t hurt me. But I’d bet they’d tear you apart.” “Fine then! Whatever,” Miko whispered back, teeth clenched tightly, “We’ll leave!” She grabbed the arm that clawed at her shoulder through her clothing and shoved it aside, irked yet unsurprised at the demon’s victorious grins in response. They would run again, and find a place to stay, only to be recognized again and start the cycle anew, she thought. A girl named Miko, begrudgingly raising herself from under the bridge where she had rested, resigned herself to a life of finding and fleeing and letting go, in that moment. Earlier (and later again, although she would not know that now), she would have held some hope. She would have found faith for the goodness of people and grown wise to the fear of others. It would shine bright in her heart, close to the flames burning in her chest. But now, a girl crawls up from the banks of the creek with muddy hands and knotted hair, and the dreams of belonging that she had held so dearly underneath the bridge are forgotten, retreated with the mist of rain and claps of thunder that had permeated the land mere minutes ago. It was only herself, she knew. Only herself. Miko ignored the limp, dark shape at the end of the bridge, sprawled out awkwardly by the unlit lamp post. She knew it was there, and she did not need to see it for her mind to conjure images regardless. The rest of her, the demon that trailed loosely behind her, knew exactly what had happened there that night, and so she did not need to know. She knew enough already. The demon, for his credit, found no joy in her turmoil. Yet, he knew that he would never get her to understand that this was necessary, that this was the only way! Kakodai knew from many lifetimes played over and over that loved ones will threaten and hurt and kill. But he has also learned that empty bodies cannot hurt the rest of him, his Milos , and love can be believed into existence even if it is a lie. “They cannot harm you from beyond the grave, ” he had said to Milos once, numerous lifetimes ago, “But you will not forget their care. ” Although the creature had not known it at the time, the comfort was a ruse. But it was a helpful ruse, now, and one that worked often to get Milos to stop crying and whining and get moving instead. Kakodai did not say those words that night, for the girl would have sooner attempted to wring his necks than heed his advice, but that was fine by him. He had gotten what they needed; he had gotten her moving. So, deep in the countryside, they traveled along a winding dirt road. Away from every reminder of loss that lay on the other side of a lonely stone bridge. They were one, and they were two—in such a way that often mattered in their many, many lifetimes. Heavy mud clung to sodden shoes and did not freeze heat-laden limbs. Condensation fled from the air to drip steadily from trembling claws and shivering maws. Neither sought the other, but they walked the same path. Together, they were alone.