mute_pen | forgotten

It's past dark, but when you need the outhouse, you need the outhouse.

Isabel picks her way across the yard of her father's house in the moonlight, hoping to sneak back into bed without waking him.

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From:

pythbox

The owl flies on, covering what must be hundreds of miles of strange land. They pass over forest, river, farm, lake, another forest, another farm, another river.

Another lake.

There is a castle beside this one, a lonely-looking place with high walls and higher towers. Along the nearest shore, a cluster of young women in white dresses huddles under the owl's shadow. It swoops low, low enough for Isabella to see their frightened faces looking up at her, then drops her on her feet a quarter of the way around the lake.

And then it is not a giant owl at all, but a man in a long feathered cape, his hands digging into her shoulders as he spins her around and scowls thunderously into her face.

From:

mute_pen

Isabel stumbles when dropped, but his grip won't let her fall. She looks around in bewilderment at the lake, at the owl-man looming over her. "Where am I - why did you take me - what's going on -?"

From:

pythbox

"Silence," he growls, shaking her by the shoulders.

From:

mute_pen

"You can't just kidnap me -"

From:

pythbox

He gives her a shove that sends her sprawling across the dewy grass.

"I am the Baron von Rothbart," he says, "and I can do what I please with you, Odette."

That is not her name.

But the word crackles in the air, and the talon-marks in her shoulders sting like they've been immersed in something noxious, and no other name is available to her anymore.

From:

mute_pen

Odette shrieks - it hurts, she's afraid - and clutches one hand at one shoulder, one at her head, her name, her name -

From:

pythbox

The sting fades. The talon-marks are gone. So are her clothes; she wears a white dress of feather-patterned lace, like the other girls who are now just barely visible a long way off behind the Baron.

"Listen to me," the Baron commands. His voice fills her ears. "This is your new home. When the sun rises, you will leave this shape and live as a swan for the day. When the sun sets, you will go ashore and live as a woman for the night. When I summon you, you will come to me. You cannot escape. You cannot drown yourself. There is but a single way to free you: if you win an unclaimed heart - if one who has never loved before swears to love you forever - then the curse will be broken. Until then, my swan—" He smiles and gathers his cape around him. "Welcome home."

The giant owl hoots softly, then takes off.

From:

mute_pen

Odette sits.

She touches her uninjured shoulder, gingerly, then with greater puzzlement.

She runs over his words, committing them to memory; she has nothing to write with here.

She gets up and she stumbles towards the other girls.

From:

pythbox

The other girls are all huddled together on the shore, a few minutes' walk from where the Baron dropped her. None of them is speaking or doing very much.

There is a certain physical resemblance between all of them, her included. Their height, the colour of their skin and hair, the shape of their faces.

From:

mute_pen

"H-hello," says Odette.

From:

pythbox

No one says anything. They look at her uncomprehendingly.

From:

mute_pen

"I'm -"

Odette.

That's not her name - she doesn't even seem to be able to make something up, though, can't tell them she's called Bianka or Ingrid or Verena, it won't stick, the sentence won't happen.

She is almost too stunned to be angry, but she is angry enough to be twisty about it. She's not going to go by Odette. She's - she's going to nickname herself, that's it.

"I'm Etty. Who are you?"

From:

pythbox

One of the women opens her mouth and makes a birdlike whistling sound.

From:

mute_pen

"Can... you understand me?" Etty asks, stepping forward, frowning. "Nod if you can't speak."

From:

pythbox

A different woman squawks and edges nervously backward.

No one nods.

From:

mute_pen

"What happened to you?"

From:

pythbox

It should be fairly clear at this point that no coherent answer is forthcoming, and indeed there isn't.

From:

mute_pen

Yeah, Etty's getting that.

Keeping a half an eye on the... flock of girls... she starts a circuit of the lake, venturing away from shore into the surrounding forest periodically, scoping out her - new home, pessimistically; starting point from which she'll venture to rescue, optimistically. She wants hiding places in which to stash things she may acquire; sources of food, like nuts or berries, because she has no idea what she'll be fed or how regularly; and any interestingly shaped rocks that could allow the creation of tools. Or weapons. Maybe she can alternatively break the curse by stabbing the bastard.

From:

pythbox

There are some interestingly shaped rocks around, and plenty of trees and bushes, some of which are indeed the sort that produce nuts or berries. In fact there is even an orchard next to the castle, surrounded by a wall but with the gate unlocked.

From:

mute_pen

Etty takes inventory of the orchard, and takes some fruit for right then - food helps one to stay awake, and if she's going to turn into a bird at dawn, she's going to be as nocturnal as possible to make the most of having hands. She's also going to try flying away, of course, but if that worked -

Then there probably wouldn't be a flock of braindead girls who look so much like her at the lake, now, would there.

On the other hand she can easily believe that none of them were particularly clever about less straightforward means of escape. Maybe she can cut his cloak and he won't be able to fly and then - well, she'll have to think this through now, even without that he'll be easily able to overpower her. She'll think.

She wishes she had paper.

She finishes her circuit of the lake and goes back through the orchard to investigate the castle itself.

From:

pythbox

The front door of the castle is enormous, forbidding, and closed.

There are other doors.

From:

mute_pen

Etty... considers the value of information very high right now.

She tries a side door.

From:

pythbox

The side door creaks rustily open.

From:

mute_pen

Etty slips in with as little creaking as she can manage, judges the wind gentle enough not to slam the door shut if she declines to re-close it, and proceeds into the castle cautiously.