Chapter Text
There is a certain indignity that comes with duty. It is to do the things that no one else wants to—to do things that seem cruel, barbaric, odd, and even, at times, entirely unnecessary, because doing these things means ensuring a greater good.
That is what Tabitha has spent the entirety of her life learning. And she certainly isn't going to let her stupid cousin sway her from her volition, especially when they haven't bothered to include her in any of their chincanery all week—more than proof enough that they don't actually care about her. They just want to save their own skin.
It's no matter, she thinks. They live worlds apart. Tabitha lives worlds apart from everyone, heart wrapped up in the chains of obligation, of her duty to this town.
She is one of the only people who knows that sacrifices must sometimes be made. She understands the importance of giving up one life for a greater good.
That's what she tells herself, over and over again, as her mind buzzes with discomfort. Her hands tremble with the memory of when they were holding another. Kaneeka Forsyth did not deserve to die.
Were she truly committed to her principles, Tabitha would have accepted the death as a necessity for the greater good. One person's demise in order to avert countless tragedies—committed to upholding the family legacy and with it, the town, as she may be, Tabitha does recognize that the witch bears the power to stop the terrible end that awaits them all.
But what is that power worth when it comes at the expense of Kaneeka's life?
Sybil—Carmilla, she calls herself, has given them all a happy ending. No one needs to be sacrificed anymore.
No one else, Tabitha thinks bitterly, looking at the boarded up building where the general store once was. No one else will have to be sacrificed, because one person was—because Kaneeka Forsyth was raised all her life like a sacrificial lamb, gradually demeaned and exploited until her butcher of a mother deemed her sufficiently ready to be marched towards certain doom.
It isn't right, she thinks. That should've been her cousin.
The so-called 'happy ending' rings hollow, a construct blatantly obvious to those with the power to see through it—such as her. Her cousin. And no one else.
"I hate you," she hisses at them, when no one else can hear.
"The feeling is mutual."
They sit in uncomfortable silence for a few moments, Tabitha's anger simmering.
"You killed Kaneeka to- to what, get rid of a few gray hairs? A couple of wrinkles?"
"It was a missing part of my spirit that I restored, Tabitha," says her cousin. "And you of all people should understand the importance of sacrifice."
"She didn't deserve it. You- Wasn't she your girlfriend? Didn't you love her?"
Her cousin chuckles, as if amused by the prospect of having gotten their own lover killed—God, do they know how lucky they were to have won over Kaneeka Forsyth of all people? How have had the chance to call her their own?—and then, more than that, dating the woman who killed her afterwards.
"I did," they say. "But I hated you more."
Tabitha doesn't know what to say, not because she's somehow shocked to her core at the revelation that yes, her cousin who has gone out of their way to spite her in every way possible truly does despise her, but because what does someone even say to that? How could she possibly respond to her cousin proudly admitting to having sacrificed someone they loved all to spite her.
"You're disgusting," she says. They huff a laugh. "I mean it."
"That makes two of us," they say.
"I'm going," she says. "Away from here."
She knows where she needs to go—There's only one thing to do now. She's known it for quite some time now, known that one way or another, things would end this way.
"Don't let the door hit you on your way out," Her cousin jeers as she leaves.
Tabitha stands out in the open, eyes darting around in search of something off—There is no certain indicator of what she needs to find. The witch, after all, is very good at hiding herself. The only thing she can do is look for the little breaks in this perfect reality, places where the grass is too green and the flowers too bright.
And at last, she sees it. A large mangrove tree by the now cleared out tetanus lake, leaves rustling in the wind.
Mangroves do poorly in freshwater. With a competitive ecosystem like the now flourishing one of Tetanus Lake, the odds of one growing so well are slim.
Tabitha clambers into her BMW—The dust, too, has fallen victim to Sybil's magic—and starts to drive. It isn't a long drive to the church—there should be easy access to the lake around there.
As she gets out of the car, Tabitha's blood goes cold as she notices her by the church.
That familiar, bright ginger hair, that infuriatingly chipper voice, that mouth ready to talk Tabitha in circles…
A shiver runs down her spine instinctively.
Janey.
"I have to go," Tabitha says calmly and coolly, knowing it won't be to any avail. Except her mind stopped her from wasting energy on such a pointless action so she didn't even say it, she just thought it. Tabitha remains frozen in place as Janey waves at her, walking closer and closer, sealing Tabitha's fate with each and every step.
"Janey," she says, trying to sound authoritative, which is hard to do when you're talking to the woman who changed your diapers and will not let you forget about it. "I'm going to go to Tetanus Lake."
"Oh, that old place?" Janey says, in that drawn-out voice of hers whenever she's about to go on another tangent. "I wouldn't go there if I were you, Miss Tabitha!"
"Well," Tabitha says. "I'm going. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't waste my time."
Janey, of course, shrugs her off, as she always does.
"Oh, Miss Tabitha, you're always so grumpy!" she says with a laugh. "I remember back when you were a little girl, all sweet and shy! That takes me back to '03, you as a little girl, asking me to be the union to your Henry Ford!"
Tabitha feels her cheeks heat up.
"Yes, well, children tend to have their wild fantasies," she says. God, why is she even dignifying this with a response? "Not even a Scarlet such as myself was an exception."
No matter how hard Pearlanne tried to make it so.
"Oh, yes, yes, children are wonderful, aren't they? My little Tulip is such a blessing! Not a day goes by where I don't think about how lucky I am to have her in my life. You know, she's very imaginative herself! She lovings making up these wonderful conversations between her and the animals. That Frou-Frou of yours is a French snob, y'know that? And the alpacas're all Catholic!? She pauses though, in contemplation. "She doesn't cry nearly as often as you did, though. I can't tell if it's because she's a tough girl or you were a little crybaby! Nothing to be ashamed of, Miss Tabitha, I think it's good to let your feelings out!"
"I'm going," Tabitha says. She refuses to entertain this humiliation any longer. "I have an errand to run nearby."
"Oh, goodness, an errand?" Janey says. "Whatever it is, I'm sure that Miss Carmilla can help! She visited earlier to offer me and my husband some tea—well, my husband didn't take it, Daniel doesn't like tea very much. It's strange, he used to love it back in college! I remember our honeymoon all those years ago, just me and him at some fancy chai place—You and him both, really, you oughta try Miss Carmilla's new blend! Darjeeling," she says.
"Thanks for the offer," Tabitha says dryly, 'smiling', before letting her expression drop into its trademark scowl. "I take it you've seen her around, then? I'm actually looking for-"
"Oh, yes, actually, she's been helping me and Daniel all day! What a sweetheart, that woman. She's always so eager to lend a hand—but goodness, doesn't anyone think to tell her to take a break? She's got these big old bags under her eyes and I don't think anyone's pointed them out! Now, now, I know it's rude, but-"
"Just take me to her," Tabitha says bitingly. Janey nods.
"Oh, yes, yes, I'm sorry, I'm being too much again, aren't I, Miss Tabitha?" She says. "She'll be out here any moment now."
A few seconds of silence ensue that would otherwise be awkward but ultimately just serve as a great relief. Then, up the footpath of the church, she sees Sybil, walking up the hill with Pastor Daniel in tow.
He's still as creepy as ever, she thinks, eyeing his smile—at least when Tabitha does that she's trying to be off-putting.
"I'm happy I could help, dearie," Carmilla says—God, she's still the same old hag in spirit, 'dearie'? For all the pastor knows, she's a decade younger younger.
"…Yes, thank you," the pastor says, fidgeting nervously with his hands. His desperation to be liked is blatantly transparent, sabotaging all social interactions he has from the get-go. Tabitha, at least, knows not to bother. There's no point in winning over people who can't be helped. She knows what she has to do, and she knows many people won't like it.
But then her gaze wanders over to Sybil—her hair in that unnervingly bright gingerish color as always, that dress from a bygone era—
And her face.
Janey was right, Tabitha realizes. Her eyes are tired and sullen in a way Tabitha herself is all too keenly familiar with—the burden of taking it upon yourself to do that which is right for everyone, a tiredness that even magic it cannot conceal.
No, what is she thinking? Tabitha shouldn't pity Sybil. The woman is a monster—having decided that she of all people surely knows what is best for everyone, and in addition, that she is qualified to decide who constitutes as a worthy sacrifice for her not-so-perfect little world.
Whatever misery begets her is her own fault. Tabitha hopes she stews in it, that finds herself sobbing alone at night in her bed as it all compounds upon her all at once.
"Oh, hello, Tabitha!" Sybil says, turning to her with a wave. "I do hope everything is alright."
"I need to talk to you," she says. "In private."
Sybil pauses for a few seconds, seemingly taken back by her audacity.
"Well, I see there's no time for pleasantries," she says.
"I'm in a hurry, if you don't mind," Tabitha says, tapping her foot on the ground impatiently. "Let's go."
If Sybil is at all shaken by Tabitha's coldness, she does not show it, giving her a serene smile as she strolls forth at a leisurely pace.
"Whatever it is you'd like, dearie," she says.
"Great." Tabitha's voice is curt and clipped—she doesn't bother waiting, God knows she's done enough of that. She grabs Sybil's hand and drags her away from the church to a more private spot by the lake.
"Darling, hasn't anyone ever told you it's bad manners to handle a woman so roughly?"
Sybil breaks her hand out of Tabitha's grip with surprising force. Tabitha ignores her. It should be quiet enough out here, anyways.
Tabitha tries to formulate an opening sentence. It's an awkward process, she realizes, trying to figure out what to say. She hasn't exactly been thinking about how to appeal to the woman, after all, more just thinking about punching her in the snide face.
Calm down. Punching her won't help anyone.
"Well?" Sybil says. Her voice is gentle yet cold in an almost oxymoronic fashion. "May I ask what exactly provoked you to drag me out to a private space with such ire? You'll find I ordinarily don't take kindly to being manhandled."
Her and her maidenly little act.
"…" Damnit. Tabitha really didn't think this through.
"I'd advise you to come out with whatever it is you wish to say right now, lest I lose my patience."
"…Why do you have those massive eyebags?" Tabitha says, which is definitely not a good way to start a conversation with a witch she's trying to plead her case to. "Can't you just magic them away or something?"
Sybil's face shifts into something almost despondent for a second, though the cheery act is quickly pulled back up.
"I've been on a few late night errands, dear," she says. "You of all people should understand."
Her smile tightens.
"But I doubt that was what you came all the way here for, Tabitha." Sybil says. "If you don't come out with it now, I may just have to take the answer from you, and I don't think you would like that very much."
"That's a thing you do?" Tabitha snips. "God, you're such a creep."
"That wasn't what I asked you to tell me," Sybil says. "I'm afraid I can only give you one more opportunity to cooperate."
"…Your perfect world sucks," Tabitha says at last. Sybil stares at her, yet again, taken aback, before letting slip a laugh.
"You came all this way simply to tell me off for the happy ending I've provided the residents of this town?" Sybil says. "If nothing else, I must respect the sheer audaciousness of it all."
"You want to make a good world for everyone, right?" Tabitha challenges. "You should take some feedback, then."
Sybil's little exhale comes out as a sigh. She's considering Tabitha's words.
"So far, you're the only one who's voiced any complaints," Sybil says.
"Can anyone else complain?" Tabitha asks. "You've pumped them all full of your tea. I've seen what is does, even if they wanted to, they couldn't say anything."
"Well-"
"And-"
"Let me speak, Tabitha," Sybil says, cutting her off. "Well, I'm sure I'd be able to tell if anyone has any complaints. I am very attuned to the human mind, you see."
"Are you?" Tabitha challenges. "Or do you think you are?"
"If you don't believe me, I am more than welcome to prove it to you," Sybil says. All of a sudden, it feels like something is breaking into Tabitha's mind, something wrong.
Tabitha resolves to block it out like she blocks out all thoughts she doesn't like. Sybil frowns.
"Well," she says. "You are exceptionally guarded, Tabitha. Pearlanne really did leave you veritably scarred."
"Just because I don't make a habit of letting witches poke around in my head doesn't mean I have trust issues," Tabitha says. "But- Whatever. Why don't you make a better world?"
"…I see what this is about," Sybil says. "You miss Kaneeka, don't you?"
Wait, how did she—?
"Oh, don't give me that look! It was plain to see, no magic necessary," Sybil says. "I always did have an inkling about the feelings you held close to your heart. Miles as well."
The amusement slips from her expression.
"But tell me," she asks. "How exactly would you go about the creation of a perfect world with my daughter within it? You would simply sacrifice someone else instead, no?"
"My cousin-"
"And what makes you decide your cousin would make for a better sacrifice than Kaneeka?" Sybil asks. "Do not deride me for being the arbiter for who lives and dies while you do the same."
She sighs.
"You Scarlets…" but she looks at Tabitha regardless, and in her eyes there is a willingness to compromise. "But your determination is quite admirable…"
After a few seconds of contemplation, Sybil finally settles on a warm smile, extending an offering hand that Tabitha rejects.
"I have an offer I think you'll quite like," she says, serenity restored.
Tabitha straightens at once.
"What is it?" Anything for a chance to get Kaneeka back. Sybil, more than anything, seems amused.
"If you want a chance to save my daughter—" So now it's 'my daughter'. "…I will give it to you. Nothing needed in return. Think of it as… a gift."
"And what's the catch?"
"Oh, don't give me that look! You always are so quick to assume the worst, Tabitha," Sybil says. "It's really quite simple. Reasonable, even! I am a fair woman after all." Fair. Right. Kaneeka would certainly have something to say about that, had Sybil not consumed her for the sake of power. "You cannot sacrifice anyone else in her stead."
So that's the catch.
Tabitha had been hoping she could have simply used her cousin instead. They, after all, deserved it. They were cruel and snivelling and completely lacking in any moral fiber.
Kaneeka would be back, but without her cousin as a sacrifice, how could Tabitha prop up the town?
But still, it doesn't matter how hard the work seems—Tabitha has worked hard all her life, giving herself not even a single day off for the past decades or so. At least this time, her work will have a fulfilling reward.
She'll find a way. She has to.
"I'll do it," Tabitha says. "Whatever it takes."
Sybil smiles. Her eyes glint with challenge, with interest.
"We'll see whether your resolution wavers in a week," she says. "Take my hand."
Tabitha hesitates.
"I understand that that you don't trust me, but if you want this little wager of ours to work, you'll have to listen," Sybil says. Tabitha weighs her options before finally extending her arm. She's in too deep now to back out, anyways.
Immediately after taking Sybil's hand, Tabitha is flooded with unbridled agony. Every nerve of her body singes, as if flooded by electrical current—try as she may to move away, her attempts to step back are to no avail, legs frozen in place.
All Tabitha can do is stand there and endure the burning pain until, at least, it begins to subside, and she stumbles back.
A tidal wave of dizziness overtakes her and her knees buckle, unable to continue holding up the weight of her body.
"What…" she starts, falling back. "What did you do?"
"Exactly what I promised," Sybil says. Tabitha tries to croak out a response, but her voice is too weak. "Good luck, Tabitha."
And that's the last thing she hears before the world goes dark.
One: A Powerful Build—The ability to gain and maintain a strong, healthy figure. Provides good health, strength, fitness, and volition. May impede logical reasoning.
Two: Attractiveness—The ability to charm others and easily navigate social encounters. Provides good looks, charisma, and confidence… maybe too much confidence. May also impede logical reasoning.
Tabitha awakens with a raging ache in her head and half an instinct to just curl over and let herself go to bed.
(Powerful Build) Oh, come on! You're strong! You're tough! Show the floor whose boss!
Okay no, whatever it is that's gotten in to Tabitha's head, just… no. She is going to lay down and sleep it off.
(Hot) No, you can't just 'sleep it off' on the floor! Hot people don't pass out on the floor!
Good thing she's not hot, then.
(Hot) You are a Hot now, like it or not. And you're going to operate like a Hot.
Why is 'hot' a proper noun?
(Hot) Being a Hot is a class.
'Being hot' is literally just being genetically fortunate. It's good looks.
(Hot) Being a Hot is about so much more than that. It's about the charisma, the status.
"…What are you doing?"
(Hot) It's a fellow Hot! And she's mad at you! This can't be, put your good looks to use!
(Powerful Build) You smell protein. You need protein. You can't keep these gains with your diet of Mac N Cheese!
Tabitha shakes off the voices in her head… whatever they are. She can figure out what's up with that later. Right now, she needs to do something.
(Powerful Build & Hot) Charm her.
Okay, you know what? Sure, whatever, she'll bite.
Tabitha sucks in a breath and looks up at the familiar silhouette through bleary eyes.
"Sorry, sorry," she says. The words, the expression—all of it comes to her with an unnatural ease. "I get a little nervous around cute people."
Wait, what? What… did she just say?
(Hot) Flirting.
Okay, well- She knows that, but—Oh, god. Who the hell did she just flirt with?
"…What the hell?" The figure standing above her turns around in a panic. "Okay, okay, I'm- I'm dreaming. There's no way. Tabitha Scarlet walked into my General Store, passed out, and started flirting with me. I went comatose. There's a gas leak and I'm hallucinating, that has to be it-"
…Oh. Tabitha just flirted with Kaneeka Forsyth.
Goddamnit.
A burst of wooziness floods her senses. Fuck, why did she do that, why did she do that?!
(Powerful Build) Calm yourself. This minor setback is nothing.
Okay. Tabitha stands up and shakes off her disorientation. She flirted with Kaneeka Forsyth. That's- That's alright. That's fine. What matters is how she comes back from this.
(Powerful Build) The pain you feel today is the strength you feel tomorrow.
…Sure, that works.
Tabitha stands up. Her legs start to wobble—
(Powerful Build) You can push through it.
Somehow, immediately after that, Tabitha finds herself standing steady, legs imbued with insurmountable strength and vigilance. She is strong.
(Powerful Build) Take in your surroundings. You are strong and you are sharp.
Doubtfully, Tabitha scans the room. That same, gaudy decor, some quaint little 'prints from local artists'—everyone knows art is a waste of money—snacks, and of course, Kaneeka.
Taking a good look at her, Tabitha feels her breath hitch.
It's been so long.
She wonders if this is how it must feel to be a desert roamer stumbling upon an oasis—the faint waft of cucumber makes her freeze up like a deer in headlights.
Kaneeka's face is faintly red, eyes nervously darting around the room, whether due to fluster at the prospect of Tabitha's unexpected flirtation, disbelief, or both, and she types nervously on her phone.
Nothing left to do but walk up to her and start a conversation.
"Kaneeka," Tabitha says curtly.
"Tabitha," Kaneeka responds in kind, raising an impetuous brow. "Finally got over your nerves?"
"I was lying when I said that," Tabitha says.
"Of course you were."
"I mean it. I'm too composed for that. Even your attractiveness isn't enough to make me bend," she says. "I must be feeling sick today."
(Hot) Smooth.
"You definitely need to get your head checked out," Kaneeka says, before suddenly pausing. "…Wait, did you just call me 'attractive'?"
"In a manner of objective speaking," Tabitha waves her off, before changing the subject. "What day is it?"
Kaneeka winces.
"I need to call Joan," she murmurs to herself. "God why do I have to deal with this?! Why not Stella? Why didn't you pass out at her place?"
(Powerful Build) You feel the need to assert your authority. You are Tabitha Scarlet, and you can pass out wherever and whenever you want! Passing out is your god-given right as a Scarlet!
(Hot) And piss off this cutie even more? Hell no! When a pretty woman says something, you don't argue. You just nod your head along and agree.
(Powerful Build) Pretty woman this, pretty woman that. If a pretty woman told you to jump off a cliff, would you do it?
(Hot) Yes.
(Hot) That sort of daredevilishness is exactly what makes you irresistible. You were built for it! What do you think those muscles are for?
(Powerful Build) Muscles do not need a reason. They simply are. Your muscles are your pride, your weapon.
(Hot) A 'weapon' for impressing the babes. You're a lover, not a fighter.
Tabitha is definitely a fighter, not a lover.
"I can go anywhere I want," Tabitha says cockily. "My forefathers built every place in this city."
Kaneeka takes in a deep breath.
"God—You know what? Clearly, you're feeling better," she says. "Just tell me what the hell made you march into my General Store and pass out so I can kick you out without feeling guilty."
(Hot) And there goes your goodwill with the cute goth. Smooth.
Tabitha freezes up, realizing she does not, in fact, have any recollection of whatever the hell Kaneeka's talking about.
(Powerful Build) She's clearly trying to mess with you. Show her what happens to people who undermine your authority. Pin her against the wall, size her up—
(Hot) And lean in until your face is dangerously close to hers, sharing a tense yet intimate moment as the lingering scents of coal dust and cucumber intermingle in a surprisingly pleasant combination. Perfect seduction strategy. She won't be able to get you out of her head.
Tabitha finds herself faced with a choice. Listen to stupid voice number one in her head, listen to stupid voice number two in her head…
Or do literally anything else.
"I don't know," she says. "Look, I promise you, the last thing I want to do is faint in public while I have work to do. If I had literally any other option, I would have taken it. And I don't really want to be here myself—Seriously, you should look into getting better decor. Or sell the place to me, that'd be-"
"Oh my god, why the hell haven't I kicked you out yet," Kaneeka croaks, looking half like she wants to kill someone and half like she wants to kill herself. "Tabitha. Look. I don't care how sick you are, you do not get to walk into my place and insult my dead Father's decorations. I'm not going to tolerate this from you."
(Powerful Build) Nobody tells you off like that!
(Hot) …Yeah. Nobody does, do they? The feeling of being told off by an equal, witnessing her face contorting with rage—and oh, goodness, does she wear it well…
(Powerful Build) What exactly is that supposed to mean?!
(Hot) You know exactly what that's supposed to mean.
Oh, God, Tabitha's dead. She died and she's in hell. That's the only explanation for why she's here right now, being told off by the very woman she was trying to save while two freak voices in her head argue on whether to throw a macho tantrum about it or say something weird.
(Powerful Build) It's not a tantrum, it's an assertion of authority—!
(Hot) It's not weird, it's flirting—!
Yeah, sure, whatever. Call it by another name.
Tabitha realizes that maybe, just maybe, Kaneeka has a point. If her idiot cousin had walked into the estate, passed out, and started insulting the paintings, she'd probably give them the tongue lashing of a lifetime.
"…Sorry," Tabitha grits out. The admission feels like pulling teeth. "For being rude."
Kaneeka stares, taken aback momentarily—is the mere prospect of Tabitha apologizing that absurd?
(Hot) More than that, she's noticably flustered by your appearance. It's a phenomenon that you, as a new Hot, will have to get used to.
(Powerful Build) You need protein… Ask for protein!
"Do you have anything with protein in it?" Tabitha asks. Kaneeka raises an elegant brow.
"You mean, like, uh, protein powder?" She asks. "Chocolate and vanilla. Which one do you want?"
(Powerful Build) Whatever has more protein in it.
"…Whatever has more protein in it," Tabitha shamefully succumbs to her compulsions, letting the meathead inside her brain start piloting. "Whatever I'm sick with comes with weird cravings."
"Maybe your body is finally getting sick of you feeding it nothing but carbs and refined sugar," Kaneeka quips. "I'm surprised you aren't even sick…er…?" Kaneeka pauses while scrutinizing Tabitha.
(Hot) She thinks you're hot.
(Powerful Build) She recognizes the strength on your face! Your jawline is sharp!
Is it?
"…And, uh, do you have any mirrors? I want to look at my face" Tabitha says, 'smiling'. Kaneeka looks abnormally unperturbed by the sight.
(Hot) Your not-so-winning smile is no more! As a Hot, you can't make such an unbecoming facial expression!
What?!
"Actually," Kaneeka says, looking away almost shyly. "That… might not be such a bad idea. We don't have any mirrors in here, but I have a compact. Here."
She hands Tabitha the compact, her hands lingering for just a little too long and yet all too short for Tabitha's own standards, watching with rapt attention as she unfolds the little things and gazes at her reflection.
…
Holy shit.
Tabitha doesn't look all that different, at least, technically, she shouldn't. Her hair is that same butter blond, her face that same pallid shade, her lifeless eyes still weighed down by bags…
But her name is sharper now, more muscular.
(Powerful Build) Nice.
Her usually dulled grayish-violet eyes glean a brighter color, just the right side of unnatural. Her frown is twisted into something more stoic than surly, something almost cool. Her hunch is gone, and in place of her oversized coat is a fashionable, form-fitting blazer, parted to show high rise black slacks and a thin white button-up top.
Tabitha sucks in a breath.
"Are you done?" Kaneeka asks, brow raised. Tabitha nods.
"…Thanks," she murmurs, at which Kaneeka looks at her like she's seen a ghost.
"Okay," she says. "You are definitely not feeling well. Did you hit your head on a rock? Or any other blunt surfaces? Oh- oh."
Tabitha has a feeling Kaneeka has just arrived to a very wrong conclusion.
"Oh my god, I am so sorry," she says all at once. "You must've been so confused, forget- forget I said literally anything. Please. You just- you have that same blonde hair and you were responding when I called you by that name a-and, um, take the protein powder! It's on the house! Which! This is my house, by the way! If, um, if you were wondering!"
Tabitha considers questioning this sudden attitude shift, but then comes the growl in her stomach.
(Powerful Build) Your protein… Take your protein. Now.
Tabitha succumbs to her compulsion, tearing open the wrapper and shovelling a fistful of the raw protein powder into her mouth. Kaneeka stares in awe.
"That's probably not very good for you," Kaneeka says, equal parts pity and… something else.
(Hot) She thinks you're hot, and for some reason, she's stopped hesitating about showing it.
What reason, exactly?
(Hot) You're a looker, not a thinker.
Other way around.
"Protein is protein…" Tabitha grits out bitterly, aiming to psychically spite the insistent voice in her head to no avail. She sounds deeply sad. And pathetic. "Fuck, I want to crawl into a hole and die. "
"What a coincidence! Me too!" Kaneeka says. "We should go there! Together! Sometime!"
Wait, Kaneeka wants to die? That's bad, that's the entire thing Tabitha got herself into this mess to try and prevent!
"You have a lot to live for," Tabitha says. "You shouldn't do either of those things."
Kaneeka stares at her for a couple of seconds before bursting into laughter.
"You- Oh my god, I was joking-!" She says. "But thanks. That's sweet of you to say."
"Right. Well," Tabitha shoves a ten dollar bill onto the counter, feeling the need to at least pay for her compulsions instead of accepting Kaneeka Forsyth's mysterious handouts. "I'll be going."
"See you around, Medea."
Tabitha freezes.
"Medea?!" She asks. That isn't her name, that's…
"Oh, yeah, uh, everyone kinda knows your name around these parts. Sorry. I, uh, thought Tabitha got you up to speed on all that, with that thing you were saying about how your ancestors built this place… Uh, by the way, you probably shouldn't say stuff like that around other people. I know Tabitha probably got all in your poor beautiful head, but being a Scarlet isn't exactly something to be proud of."
And isn't that true? There is no pride in doing what must be done. It is a thankless task.
Wait, wait, wait, does…
Does Kaneeka think she's her cousin?!
"Anyways! See you around! I… hope?" Kaneeka says, trying to wink but ultimately just making an awkward little squinting motion.
Medea—The name makes her blood boil. Tabitha is a cold, cruel woman, she'll concede that much, but nevertheless, she would consider even herself to be a better person than that spineless weasel.
Medea Scarlet had wooed Kaneeka and taken her as her own only to discard her just to spite Tabitha.
And here Kaneeka is, standing before her now, as if all of that never happened.
They don't deserve her, she thinks bitterly.
(Hot) You could treat that girl so much better.
(Powerful Build) You have bulk. You have muscles. You could catch that girl in your arms when your cousin throws her into danger.
Great. The voices in her head are complete freaks.
"…Bye," Tabitha says at the end of it all, anticlimactically, and with just enough hesitance to justify her lack of transparency should she be confronted—She had simply been debating whether or not correcting her was even worth the effort.
Immediately after leaving the general store, Tabitha feels around in the pockets of her new coat and finds her phone.
Thank god.
The date—October twenty second, and the hour: Ten in the morning.
Shit. The date…
Exactly half an hour from now, Tabitha was to go to the bus stop and pick up Medea Scarlet, her formerly estranged relative. And then, she was to go through a week of various supernatural events that culminated in the witch devouring her own daughter and creating her ideal world.
So Sybil really had made good on her promise. She gave Tabitha the chance to save Kaneeka.
By sending her back to the day she met her cousin.
(Powerful Build) You were born for this. Use your strength and drag her to safety if you must.
(Hot) You won't need to do that. Charm her. Make her want to stay alive for you.
...And shoving two crazy voices in her head. Great.