Drivel

Notes: Below are pages out of Rita Degollar's diary, transcribed and edited for legibility.
==Unsent Letter==
She shut her door with the knob twisted for silence, but the hinges squealed.
Remy glanced over, standing at his usual post in the hallway. "Good morning, Rita."
She fumbled with her keys and ducked her head to hide a stupid grin, but allowed herself a peek at him through her curls. "G-good morning. Um. B-bye."
"Bye."
August, 1996
Dear Remy,
I think it[']s super brave of you to guard Fetch Court the whole time you've been here[, though] the first thing [I] noticed when I met you was how super soft your hands were, it was amazing. [I] know that soft hands aren't really a super tough guy trait, but [I] really like it, so [I've] been secretly finding excuses to shake your hand all the time without being creepy. [I've] also been trying to figure out how to ask you out without seeming ([H]aha, changelings) like a weirdo, since we live like ten feet away from each other.
[It's] also hard because you're like all stoic and dedicated, and kind of a rabbit plushie, which is so awesome[,] and you're probably super amazing to snuggle with. [I'm] mostly made of some robot parts, like [I] told Mojo, but I left some details out. My chest is mostly a giant, bloody heart so full of worms that they spill out of it everywhere, and my head is a mangled dog head, with bloody empty eye sockets, and my hands are its severed paws, which are also super gory. I stutter because the jaw was ripped off, and the robot one that I have instead sticks if i get nervous. [N]o one here in the freehold has ever seen it. It's pretty gross[,] so I'm kinda afraid that you might not be interested in like, dating or anything if you knew what [I] really look like. [I] think I have a plan[, though,] and if you aren't scared of me or anything when [I] do it[,] then [I'll] try to ask you out[. F]ingers crossed[.]
[Drawing of a romanticized heart]
P.S: Sorry for ignoring you[,] Diary, I just wrote this pretend-letter out here[,] so it's out of my system. Hopefully it'll help me stop being a total dork. I swear to God[,] if someone who is not me is reading this, you are a jerk for reading my diary.
===Normalcy===
"You engaged them." His words were clipped. The Harvest King had given them two rules. Two very straightforward, very simple rules. "Did any of you look back?"
Everyone in turn gave him a variation of "No" or shook their head in earnest. Rita could only tremble and wish she was invisible. She'd broken both of the rules even after the rest of the motley booked it back to the Hedgegate.
"Rita."
She whispered, but it didn't help. "I looked back."
His gold eyes burned and his lips pressed into a line. "How close were they?"
She told him.
September, 1996
Dear Diary,
I haven[']t written for the past[,] like[,] week because things have been really weird and crazy. I've decided that I'm not going to write about any of those things, because [I'm] going to go insane if I keep thinking about them, so, from now on, only normal things are allowed in here.
Normal things like dates[Exclamation point dotted with a tiny heart] I executed my super risky plan, and I told Remy about what I look like, and I built a squirrel in front of him, and he totally didn't even bat an eye at any of it, so I asked him if he wanted to get coffee or something with me sometime, and he said yes. I was SUPER happy.
Yesterday[,] he asked me if I wanted to go to dinner with him, and I said yes, but I had to do something (weird and crazy stuff). I kind of really, really screwed that up, so the whole freehold got put on lockdown, and Remy and I couldn't leave to go anywhere. I didn't tell him that it was my fault (that'd be totally stupid to do), so instead we still had a super romantic date in back of the cafeteria kitchen.
That sounds stupid when I write it. I still don't really know how he did everything in like ten minutes. Conversation was awkward, I was really high-strung the whole time. Afterward we went back to my room and watched a scary movie, and after that we said goodnight and he left, but around like 3[a.m.] I had a really awful nightmare and I was scared, so I knocked on Remy's door and asked if I could stay with him. Oh my God, Diary, I was totally right about the snuggling.
That's all for now, I think. I need to shower. Oh! I got my stutter fixed! That's not normal, but it's important to me, so I'm telling you.
-
"She shows up all-all the t-time, s-sort of," Rita whined, desperate to avoid what was looking more and more unavoidable. "W-we can totally wait un-until later, or like tomorrow, or-or-"
"We're going to tell the Harvest King, now." Penny's smile was both immobile and terrifying. "And we're going, with or without you. I'll take your car, I don't need the keys." It wasn't a threat; it was a promise.
Rita grimaced and twisted her fingers together and glanced down at her untouched meal, stalling however she could. "Can we at l-least get to-go boxes?"
"Oh." The ballerina blinked, and clapped her hands once. "Yes, of course we can."
September, 1996
Dear Diary,
[A] lot of things have happened. I got a 2nd date with Remy! We went to an okay Italian place, it was a double date with  Penny + Pat, [Pat] got a new leg recently. It looks totally natural. My "sister" showed up though, so we had to leave a little early. My stutter came back, too. [Drawing of a sad face]
Gotta go, Penny just opened my door. Diary, if Penny talks to you, please[,] please don't unlock for her or tell her anything I've written in here.
-
"I think we m-missed the Masquerade," Rita twisted her lips to the side, "But Rose said s-something about another Ball, so, d-do... w-would you maybe be okay with being my date for that one?"
"Yeah," Remy's voice was quiet. "I mean, if you'll still have me."
"Of course I'll still 'have' you," For a moment, Rita wasn't sure what he was being so shy about. Then, she realized. "I-I still think you're pretty," She rushed, and then, Goddammit, Rita, she berated herself, That's like the worst thing you've ever said.
"Okay, then," He nodded, swallowing. "It's a date, I guess."
October, 1996
Dear Diary,
Sorry for not writing, [we] got in a fight with my "sister" and then [we were] kidnapped for a few days and then [we were] in the hospital for a few more days. Better now, just got out today, me and Penny + Pat are pretty okay, but Remy was permanently scarred from the fire like all on his face and down his left side.
He's self-conscious about it. I'm not sure what to do. I still think he's like the super best and coolest guy since sliced bread (or whatever), and I think it even more now[, because t]he whole reason he got [burnt] in the first place was because he was trying to help me. He also broke his leg, also trying to help me, and it was a really bad break, and it's gonna take forever to heal. It's all entirely my fault. I'm a little glad we fought, though, I mean, everyone got really hurt, but we're all alive. It's kinda selfish.
This isn't writing about normal things[,] and I'm sorry, but I don't know what to do. Maybe I could take Remy to Grem?
-
She nudged her shimmering shoes to one side and finished her recap of their history with a nervous grin. "S-so I guess, d-... do you want to keep d-dating?"
"Well," Remy's expression was hard to read. Cautious? Curious? "What do you want?"
No fair. Summoning her courage in a long inhale, Rita twisted her fingers around each other. "I think I..." She dug her heels into the thin carpet and made herself look him in the eyes. This was it. "Yeah, I'd really like to." It sounded like a sigh. She ignored the blood flushing her face. "I think it'd be wonderful to keep dating. Even all the parts where monsters showed up and tried to kill us, I really liked being with you, and I think it'd be awesome to get to know you better."
She hadn't even stuttered; all she could think about was how blue his eyes were, then his lips met hers and everything evaporated.
Awesome.
October 1996
Dear Diary,
Everyone was right about the 3rd date being really important. I asked Remy to go to the dance thing with me, and he said yes. [small drawing of a smiley face] I got a makeover and a sort-of free dress for it, but then I accidentally signed myself up to set up the whole ball almost by myself, in my new dress. I did all of it without even breaking a sweat, though, or messing up my hair. [Drawing of a skirted stick figure, flexing its arms]
The ball was really amazing, even though Remy and I didn't dance, since he still has a broken leg. After it we went to the bar[,] and I got a tiny bit drunk and tried to call preemptive truce with his ex. [Text here has been scribbled out, but appears to read "She has guns." An arrow points to the omission from the phrase "Not normal," written in the margin] Hunter got drunk for the first time, and Penny got super high on something. Then we got sober, and Remy walked with me back to my room[, because] I had to change clothes, and we had the super scary talk everyone said we had to have, but it wasn't scary at all once we started talking. So I think we're boyfriend+girlfriend now. Also we kissed, and it was amazing. I don't think anybody saw us.
=== Sent Letter ===
The horse of vines faltered as it kicked into the sky and soared over blazing Carpus on its wooden wings. Rita heard her friends yelling, heard Hunter crying, and it only fueled the Wrath that veiled her sight in red haze. The split sea was closing fast over the trail of bark and paint. Her lungs burned. If she could only...
Dempsey was gone.
She could...
The blurred realm in the distance waited, unmoved by the fetch's bravado. Arawna's spear was cold in her hand. The borrowed mount heaved and listed; Rita knew the pegasus wouldn't make it across the sea.
You need to change your behavior, the Harvest King scolded in her head.
Her Wrath wavered, and Rita pulled up on the weedy reins. She was too late.
October(?), 1890(?)
Dear Remy,
I'm sorry for a lot of things. I know that doesn't change what's happened, but I know that everything [I] did leading up to this was wrong, and [I] want to tell you that [I'm] going to fix this. [I] want to tell you that, [I] mean, but [I] shouldn[']t because [it's] not true[, I] don[']t think [I] can fix any of it.
[I] should have realized what was happening to Dempsey. [I] should have convinced him not to listen to the calling, even if it [meant] getting in trouble. [Text here has been scribbled out, but originally read, "I should have gone back to Mother and Father's house and tried to lead them away from the freehold[,] back when I had the chance." An arrow points to the omission, from: "OK that was a bad idea but [I] still feel bad that [I] didn't do anything," written in the margin] I don[']t know how, but when we ran through the hedgegate after Dempsey, I had this feeling that if we went in, we weren't coming back, but [I] was so angry and so scared [that I] couldn't stop or think. Even if all of that was some kind of weird, unavoidable[,] magic destiny, [I] shouldn't have yelled at you or ever considered crossing that sea. [W]herever we are now, whatever[']s going to happen to all of us, all we have left from home is each other. [It's] so selfish, but [I'm] secretly really, really glad you're here, it makes all of this suck way less.
[I] found your phone in the basement, before the whole attack. I know it [won't] work here, but it still has most of its battery, and [its] yours, so [I'll] give it back next time [I] see you. [M]ine is running low, so [I'm] turning it off until we make it back to Cresthaven (the one where chargers exist).
Notes: The above entry was torn out shortly after it was written.
---
=== Adjusting Period ===
"You remember that book I gave you, about the Crimson Spear?"
Arawna brightened. "I liked that book."
"Okay, he's the King of Summer here, and he's downstairs, and I might have accidentally challenged him to a duel just now, and I can't fight, and my sword just shatters every time," The words kept flowing out of her mouth like a river, and Arawna was edging closer to her. "And I wondered if maybe you could fight him instead-"
"You want me," Arawna pointed to herself. Her expression wasn't a proper expression, and Rita wasn't sure if the Head-Taker was offended. "To test the skills my father passed down to me, and the blade he bestowed upon me, against the Crimson Spear's steel?"
"I-i-if you don't want t-"
"Yes! Of course I want to fight him!" She flung out an open hand, and her ruby halberd flew into it from her bedside.
"W-w-w-w-..." Rita backed away from her double. "I-I didn't know you could do that."
Arawna was already behind her, though, and threw the door open. "Let's go!"
October, 1890
Dear Diary,
I guess I shouldn't bother trying to keep things normal-only in here. We're [backward] in time by like a hundred and thirty years, but everyone is okay. The King of Ashes seems like a really nice guy, but he said that's because I haven't seen him on a bad day yet. Sounds like he's all talk, except we all saw him chop off a guy's head like two minutes after we walked in the door, so he might actually be a psycho, [I can't] tell yet. The guy he Degollar'd was a loyalist or something, but so was Arawna.
I miss dad. He used to have weird jokes for everything, like ["](insert something) just got Degollar'd![" And] he'd mostly say it to fish when we'd go camping. [If] I ever kill anyone, and I hope I never do, but if I do and I cut off their head, I'll totally say "You just got Degollar'd!" for dad, in case I never see him again. But I'll make sure Arawna isn't there to hear. She doesn't want to be called The Head-Taker anymore, so I don't think I should tell her that her last name means [to] decapitate. Things already kind of suck enough for her.
I kinda wish she'd stop hanging around Remy all the time, but it's not like she has other friends, except for THE CRIMSON SPEAR who is SO SO COOL (or warm haha [I'm] a dork [Drawing of a "sad" face]). Anyway, I think they get along, I hope they can be friends, so that way she can get out more. I know the whole "[M]erge with your changeling" thing is supposed to be the best thing ever, but I just want to be a veterinarian and let her go do her own thing.
Which reminds me, the freehold really needs money, so I'm starting my own business as a veterinarian even though I'm just a vet tech, but because 1890 is RACIST I made a white old guy doctor disguise out of my head so hopefully no one will burn the place down, and I just like, step into it. I gave him a doctor-y suit. There isn't too much paperwork, but I don't wanna do any of the bookkeeping, so I hired Lumpy to be my front desk lady. I know that sounds like a bad idea, but I'm sure she'll do a really good job, and if anything happens, I can just dream-make a new identity and start over.
Remy totally sleeps like a rock. Softest rock ever.
-
===Interrogation===
Notes: The following three entires were recorded during the day that "Flea Bag," aka Brian Sharpe, was held captive at Cresthaven. Rita Degollar was assigned to be his interrogator.
"How've you been adjusting to life here in 1890? I'm sure it's been very hard on you."
"U-um," Rita's pen scritched at the scrap paper. She needed to stay on topic and ask smart questions, but right now she couldn't seem to do either very well. "Th-th-th, thum... the, um... You, you m-met N-Nick e-eight mo-months ago, you s-said?"
"Approximately, yes, that's right," Flea Bag stared at her and he didn't even need eyes to do it. Rita had untied his hands, though she was wishing more and more that she hadn't. "Will your beau be joining us?" He inclined his burlap-bagged head. "Remy, right?"
I wish, Rita lamented. He was a cop, he'd be so much better at this than me. "N-n-no, um, when-... when-" 
"How is he?"
"Wh-what kinds-... kinds of wo-wooo... -work," She struggled and shut her eyes. This was shaping up to be one of her bad days. "What kinds of work did R-RGI, um, uh, I mean, wh-what did, um, what did they have you d-doing for-... for them?" 
November, 1890
Diary,
Quick entry, I wanna sleep. [C]onflicted about RGI. [S]ome of the stuff Flea[ B]ag said[,] about us[,] about the witch, it kind of made sense, and kind of scared me, and [I]'m not sure [I] can trust people here or in 1996 as much as [I] have been. Brian might be right, about RGI's goals being for the greater good. Told the kings everything anyway, since Frost would know if I withheld any info. They just have more questions now. [I'll] go back in a few hours to change [Flea Bag's] bandages, and hopefully talk some more without spilling anything. He's trying to get something out of me. Don't know what. Reaction, maybe. Wanted to know about how we time-traveled pretty bad. Don't know why, if he can do it himself so much.
Ugh. Somebody wants something. No nap for me.
-
"I convince a King to allow himself to be somehow incapacitated." The bag covered his face, but Rita sensed a smug smile beneath it.
"B-but-"
"Must've been so hard, watching that," The eyes that he didn't have dug gouges into her. The mouth she couldn't see kept talking, kept describing the Autumn Mistake, now sounding more like the Autumn Murder, kept dragging out every vivid detail, the bark, the thorns, the paint, like Dempsey had been dragged in.
Rita stuttered something about RGI.
"You know the trail's going cold. I imagine you'll never find him now."
November, 1890
All that stuff I said about Flea Bag saying some scary things that made me kinda not trust Cresthaven? No. He's definitely a creepy murderer assassin psycho, and he killed Dempsey, and before that, he killed Glenn, and after that, he said he was going to kill [King Kent], and [King] Frost, and [Queen] Rose, except he said he already killed them, except [Queen] Rose. Possibly lying. Possibly to get a reaction. Got a plan.
--
He edged closer until he was almost standing over Rita, his posture so relaxed that it put her even more on edge. "Perhaps, then, you can tell me if this is ironic." He set his hands in the air like one crafting the setting for a story, and told her. Rita's mouth hung open. His words washed around her head like some river she couldn't believe was there. The King of Ashes was going to kill her father. The King of Ashes made a deal with Kerrville, and was going to kill her father.
"And says, 'You just got Degollar'd!'" Flea Bag made the sweeping motion like he was wielding a scythe, like saying "Kerrville" was nothing. "Now, tell me, if you can: Is that ironic?"
While most of Rita's mind was spent trying to believe that Flea Bag had just detailed her father's murder, a corner of her thoughts actually pondered the question. Yes, she decided. That is actually ironic. And, while she was at it, "It's-it's p-pronounced Dey-ho-YAR."
"Oh, pardon me." He waved, "I don't speak your... tongue."
She reacted.
November, 1890
Flea Bag got out. I think it was my fault. He told me that [I'd] answered all of his questions and that I could leave, so I just waited outside to see if he was gonna break out, and I [didn't] see him leave, but apparently he did, and all the furniture was on the ceiling. Also probably definitely my fault. [I'm] not even being sarcastic, I kind of told him to [put the furniture on the ceiling] by accident.
[Remy and I] slept in the lobby. [Oh my God,] Diary, he is so smart and awesome and he totally punched Pawn in the face, which I kinda feel bad about, but Pawn kinda deserved it. I'm pretty sure I'm in love with Remy, but I don't want to be weird and say it so soon, so [I'm] gonna wait for like a couple weeks or something to be sure.
Kerrville
[Having] [doubts] about being at CresthavenKerrville again. [RGI] probably [isn't any better], [but if I] left, I [wouldn't] [have to] worry about [getting] shived in my sleep by [crazy changelings], or [assassinated] by [time travelers], or murdered in the [Hedge], or anything. KERRVILLE [The] only thing [I'd] have [to be afraid] of is [Fetch Hunters][, and [I'm] starting [to] think [that], maybe, [I should take my chances.] Hope Lady Green never [reads] this, just for this.
[But seriously. Change my] nameKerrville [maybe? Save money, get my own place far] awayKerrvilleKerrville. [I don't know if that would] keepKerrvilleKerrvilleKerrvilleKerrvilleKerrvilleKerrvilleKerrville Him KerrvilleKerrvilleKerrvilleKerrvilleKerrville [away.]
I don't know if anything can keep Him away.
Notes: The Authorship of this entry is uncertain, though it is believed to be penned at least mostly by Rita. The entry is broken off for several pages, with every line and every margin in between filled with the word "Kerrville," written over 1,610 times. The pen appeared to run out of ink near the 1,200th instance. After this point, the in-between pages are damaged with frequent tears measuring ~1cm, presumably from the pressure of the dry nib. Coherent narrative resumes:
I'm afraid KERRVILLE's going to come and fix me. I'm scared he'll put back the programming I took out, and make it a hundred times worse and stronger. I'm never going to be free or safe, no matter where I go. I just want everything to stop. I'm really scared.
Notes: This entry is the last in Rita's first known, written-while-Awakened Diary.
== Harvest King ==
The suite door slid shut, and Rita twisted the knob straight. She turned her head to listen for signs of wakefulness from within. Nothing. Sobbing, from somewhere upstairs.
Like death's shadow, she slipped down the stairs, and across the empty foyer she stole. The trim that lined the square maw of the dark courtroom glowed grey in the streaming moonlight. She ran a hand over it, as if it might not be real, and stepped in.
The stage was smaller than the one at Cresthaven, but it had a ramp on the side. Rita squinted at the blackness; she coulda sworn... There. With both hands, she dragged a dusty armchair across the floor, and hefted it up, onto the stage. Penny had slapped the high-backed and kindly-cushioned chair together during a lemonade break, and Rita's fingers gripped carvings of fantastic scenes slick with finish and her own nervous sweat. She clambered up after it, hitting her knee once against the wooden edge.
"Ow,"
The chair didn't mock her, but the hollow platform echoed her footsteps as she crossed it to light the gas lamps. It was even quiet when Rita settled down into it, and fixed her sober gaze upon the blank yellow book in her lap.
She'd decided on her title.
(Notes: The following entry is the first in Rita Degollar's second known diary as an awakened fetch, begun the night after she accepted the position of Autumn King at La Fontaine. Entries after this point are presented as they were originally written.)
Harvest King Rita Degollar
Guardian of the Bridge, Blackbird Bishop
Age 24
December 6th, 1890 
Feel like I want to cry, but I don't want to, I'm the King of Fear now. Scary. Still miss mom and dad. I flicked water at five people today, super tired, but I can't sleep. I'm on a stage, in a comfy chair. I think this is basically what Dempsey did whenever he was king. Not really, but he was up here a lot. Ok, now I'm kinda choking up.
I'm afraid to hope, Diary. Maybe he was too, or something. Maybe that's why he listened to the calling. Maybe he knew something was wrong, and thought it'd fix him. If I heard it, maybe I'd listen, too. I could have stopped it, but I was too afraid. That's wrong, though, and I know that now. I should have been more afraid of the consequences of my inaction. Fear should be used as motivation. I think Dempsey said that, I know Fletcher said it like twice, which is more times than I saw him decapitate anyone.
I'm taking the name Harvest King for a couple of reasons. I'm going to try and become sort of the kind of king that he was. He poked things, but he had everything under control, and if he was as scared as I am, I never saw him show it. There's also some reason to suspect that his title had something to do with the "malicious party" choosing him. I want to know if taking it will prompt some kind of response. Dempsey said he would tear apart the Hedge for me, and yeah, he was going sociopath at the time, but he meant it. I'm going to return the favor.
After dad became a mage, after he met Dempsey, we started celebrating "half" birthdays. I never understood why, since my half birthday wasn't anywhere near my actual half birthday. The day after I awakened, I told him, and I was bawling and he was hugging me and we were sitting on the couch, waiting for Dempsey to come over because dad called him. I don't know why I asked. Dad started crying, too, and said it was when I was born, because that was the day his other daughter was taken. It was my actual birthday.
Anyway, that was a really long way to say that today was my fetch-birthday. I didn't tell anyone, I was mad and we were busy. It's just weird that my first day being king is on my birthday. So, I'm going to be the Harvest King.
Rita's pencil paused on the page, her paper the same pale yellow as the dim-glowing full moon on her neck. She yawned and waited for more words to come, but none did, and the pencil slipped from her fingers as her eyes drifted shut. Court was now in session, or something like that.
-
"E-Everyone's d-d-d-...dead." Hurled down against the stone tub, her shoulder took the brunt of the blow. It didn't hurt as much as the first throw. 
"Where did you go?" His eyes were yellow hellfire, the blunt of his scythe rested on her ankle, she blathered about Frost and La Fontaine as fast as she could, about how They said- "Who's They?"
Oh God, oh God, "Only if you don't cut off my head!" The skinny arms she held up in defense would do nothing against that blade.
The intensity didn't lessen by one iota. The blade sat heavier on her foot. "I will be infinitely less likely to kill you if you tell me."
"Okay, oh God, okay..."
December 24th, 1890 
(Sometime in 1900, by Fletcher's perception)
Stopped by Cresthaven with Remy today, to see what the hotel looked like from the outside while under lockdown. The entire building, walls, windows, gate and all, appeared to be made of stone. Met the Regular outside the walls. He pointed out a third time distortion occurring somewhere within the hotel, but that he couldn't pinpoint its location exactly. We discussed the state of the hotel, then visited the Regular's apartment for tea. He promised the tea was perfectly mundane, but in retrospect, I should have cleaned the cups we used, in case he has some use for saliva. I bet you my face, Diary, he does.
Remy and I stepped out for a minute to discuss some things in private, mostly just whether to try going in the hotel through the door I'd left under the sink in my old room. I told him, after the conversation, that I loved him. I'd meant to be more dramatic, and wait for the time to be right when I said it, but it sort of just slipped out. I meant it, though. He said he loved me, too. [Drawing of a tiny heart]
When we went back inside, we heard the Regular talking to Nick Chapman in the mirror, about what he'd learned about Cresthaven, and about what he expected for compensation. A little concerning to know he's already working for Nick. He mentioned him being distraught over Azkedelia's health. I suspect a water allergy, but as soon as I can, I should try visiting and give my best wishes. Bring some flowers. The Regular said he was leaving, so Remy and I went back to the clinic and snuck into Cresthaven through the hole I left under the sink.
Everything was stone on the inside, too. We heard metal scratching on the walls, so I sent King Crab through the air vents to do recon. Everyone he saw was dead. Remy and I debated the best course of action, but then the King of Ashes sliced through the wall and said Adobe's fae took Edelyn, and that it'd been ten years since he'd seen us, by his "count."
We last had contact with Cresthaven two days ago, so maximum 48 hours was ten years, from his perspective. After just quick math, teatime at the Regular's apartment left Fletcher in Cresthaven for, from his perspective, an extra six months. If I wasn't terrified of him before, I'm terrified now. Those six months didn't have to happen.
Considering the circumstances, it's really great that he didn't take my head off. After ten years in absolute isolation, he's got to be totally crazy. I'm tempted to just dump a bunch of Glamour on him, to be on the safe side, and I've got the information to do it, easily, but if we're going on an Arcadia trip right this second, I need my head straight and my Glamour maxed more than he needs a few minutes of slightly-less-crazy. In fact, we might actually need his crazy, depending on whatever's about to happen. Actually, you know what? No. There is totally no way crazy is going to help anything right now, and I should dump every drop of Glamour I have on him. Also:
Dear Remy,
I love you, and I'd totally break into Cresthaven with you any day. I was terrified, but it was also fun, except for everyone being dead, and I hope no one is permanently dead.
=== Deals Made ===
Rita pointed at different parts of the painting, careful not to touch it. "And I think that's us, and like those flesh knight things are what Arawna used to be, but she's like also one of them, and still in the motley, so...?"
Remy blinked at it. "That's disturbing."
"'So I think, like," She bit her lip and twisted her fingers around each other, "Maybe we should set the room on fire again?"
He nodded. "Yes, I think that's an excellent idea."
December 26th (or 27th), 1890
I find myself unable to rest after recent events. I can't sleep like at aaall. I'm trying not to think about all the crazy things happening, but even without that, there's so much I have to do, and I can't do it all. La Fontaine isn't any safer than Cresthaven until I've personally gone into every changeling (and fetch) here's dreams and thoroughly investigated them, which could take months, and it'd be ongoing, even once I checked everyone, I'd have to constantly check back on people, just in case. On top of that, I still have so many changelings to fix, at this point sanity is a tertiary priority, but [B]lackbirding seems like it's the one thing I can do every night, even if it's not at the top of my list. Frost did both of those, with a freehold like 20 times this size, and he wasn't even a Blackbird Bishop when he did it. Maybe that's why he was never around in 1996. I try to alternate nights, try to do like at least five sessions one day and none the next, so I can still spend time with Remy, but like these past few nights it's been impossible.
He's out cold right now, he didn't even move when I turned the lamp on. The new bed Penny built us is awesome, though I'm paranoid she may have hidden sawblades in it or something because I set the other one on fire. <--No. Yes. I'm not gonna be a coward anymore and I'm going to write about it.
Last night, I was startled awake by a doll climbing on me, presumably intending to strangle me. I threw it off, and turned up the lamp, and my bookshelves were full of similar dolls. I woke Remy, and we fled the room and barricaded the door. I suggested we set the room alight. Remy insisted on being the one to go back into the room and upset the gaslamp, and I didn't argue. His volunteering surprised me, but so did my own suggestion to torch the place, considering we both survived the last fire entirely by luck. He returned unscathed, and we waited until the dolls no longer cried out before fetching (haha) buckets of dirt to put out the fire. Arawna assisted. Once it was extinguished, all that remained of the dolls was melted plastic and their glass eyes. I put the eyes in a jar, and disposed of the doll parts. I sent Arawna to bed, and kept a hunter's vigil, sitting on the charred floor. Remy sat with me.
I estimate we fell asleep just before dawn. When we awoke, the room was repaired, but with 1950s furniture, a stiff bed with viscera-colored sheets pulled taught, and scratchy carpet full of mildew stench. On the East wall, "I DONT NEED EYES TO SEE YOU" was scribed in what appeared to be blood. Next to the vandalism was a painting of what initially appeared to be a fox hunt, but upon closer inspection, was of Terrors in pursuit of the motley. Included in both groups was Arawna. Again, I woke Remy, and proposed we burn the room. He agreed.
While we made sure everything was incinerated, one spot on the carpet would not catch. After observing it, I was able to make out that it was a message, and it read "THERES NO PLACE IN SPACE OR TIME THAT YOU CAN HIDE," then caught fire of its own accord.
I informed Arawna of what occurred. She was distressed, and displayed a supernatural derangement. I offered her my aspersorium, and it physically manifested on my face and arms as darkened veins, that hurt. Then I had a vision of like being super jealous of Mina, and of being at the Shadow Lounge with Suzy and Dempsey, and they were asking about how I was adjusting to life at Cresthaven. Arawna had seen a really bad vision of like her being in the shrine of the soldier but it was modified to be like a torture chamber. I don't see any connection, and I've never heard of this disorder before like ever.
Went to go see Odin-Dempsey, and he's like hurt and having trouble staying together and stuff and it's freaking me out. I kind of understand it, now, but it's still scary, and what hurt him made the derangement I took on earlier flare up again, which doesn't make sense because it shouldn't have lasted that long, unless I'm crazy and I don't know it. Anyway, that's all why I'm gonna go look for a Bishopric tomorrow. I doubt there's one anywhere near here, there's nothing around here for miles, so I'll try looking in Chicago, since they're supposedly only in Reality. Maybe there's goblin marks to follow or something.
Wow this is so long, it's like already getting light outside. I should try to sleep or something, but like, I kinda just want to wake up Remy and see if he wants to come with me to find the Bishopric. I feel like they're probably early birds, because they're birds, haha. Seriously though I'm not that bird-ish, I just got sexier.
-
Black, Thorn-burred fur matted with blood, but the hilt-deep wounds were only papercuts to it. A paw sweeping wide slammed into the Harvest King, and the ground dropped away from her. Rita slashed uselessly at its tendons, thick as power cables, ursine blood slicking her knuckles and turning them tan with fur. Level with the direbear's impossibly massive jaws, the fetch recalculated her odds, yellow teeth flashing in triplicate on her camera lens eyes. Oops.
The Reaver bounded onto the monster's back, grabbed its muzzle and rent it from its lower jaw, snapped spine from skull. The pink skin in its mouth tore like a water balloon in slow motion, the blood inside of it like a sheet. Through the hot crimson curtain, she saw everything.
They were all monsters, but what kind was he becoming?
December 30th, 1890
I Fear a number of things, and this morning, chief in my mind, I Fear our creation of La Fontaine was a mistake. I never should have told the motley about RGI's offer. What did I think would happen? Did I think that Penny wouldn't jump at the chance to be a Queen, that Pat wouldn't go along with her? I allowed Fear for the fates of a few dozen changelings that I'd never met to outweigh my common sense, and it resulted in the mass slaughter of so many more at the hands of S          r. Had we remained at Cresthaven, he may not have attacked, we might have found him out. Frost said so, himself.
Part of me blames Frost. Adobe was his own Emissary, Frost should have kept more in touch with the subjects of his Court.
But how could he have? I'm barely maintaining Arawna. Every day, I'm up before dawn, pawing through books, going out into the Hedge or to Chicago to keep an eye on things. Every night I'm Blackbirding, spending an hour with Remy, pawing through books, sleepless unless seeking counsel from the Super Ego. The other Kings guard La Fontaine against the threats that come from outside the walls, but I am the only one watching for treachery within. That's what Frost was doing, too. Perhaps this burden was meant for more than one to bear.
I think the wisest course of action, in light of recent events, would be to combine our freeholds. Cresthaven lost many of its members, and La Fontaine is a beautiful facility with acres of space for expansion, and access to more plentiful resources than Cresthaven. If we are doomed to journey into Faerie, we should not leave the wise who stay behind undefended, and in the meantime, I could share the duty of treating changelings with Frost.
However, Cresthaven, not La Fontaine, is the freehold I was brought to for my protection. If there is no Cresthaven, Dempsey could rise to power in another freehold, one that the Guardians never come to, and be taken just the same way. Without a freehold to hide in, I could be killed by Arawna in August of 1996. RGI is likely dissolved, and we will lose our funding.
We establish freeholds because we are safest when we are united. It pains me to think of dissolving this place that has so much potential, but we have to think of the future, and we have to guard those that have come to us for protection. Failure is kin to treason.
I will speak with the other Kings. Today, I'm going to PE, Remy thinks we should work out together.
-
"WHAT?!"
The stool cartwheeled across the library. Rita flinched back from the irate King.
December 31st, 1890 New Year's Eve woohoo! <3
So Alex went and made that weird lumberjack guy a member of the freehold, so now we're all going to die because we just let in every dumb changeling ever. Also, Penny is a total bitch. Maybe if she'd jumped to a few conclusions, or, I don't know, ANY conclusions EVER, we wouldn't have had a Fae running around the freehold mutilating everyone today. Whoa, okay, no, that's super mean, and totally incorrect, because it was Pat's fault, and we're not making any deals with Sprigg involving our Fae anymore, so this doesn't happen again. There's no way he could have known what would happen, though, since I didn't exactly tell anyone about what happened with Town. Why would I? So everything is my fault. Again. Whether people actually know or not. Seriously considering suicide at this point, haha. Arawna would totally freak out.
So, to top everything off, I'm stuck with that weirdo in my court. Yeah, I have one more court member now, but he's like the total opposite of what the point of Fear is, and now I have to super protect him. God. I bet Dempsey never had to deal with this stupid crap. Wait, haha, he did, Jack was totally a member of the Autumn Court from 1996 Cresthaven. I wonder if Dempsey ever complained about stupid people in journals. Probably wrote something super bitchy about me when I kind of attracted Mother and Father to Cresthaven.
Dear Diary, I can't believe Glenn made this weird dog monster a member of the freehold, now we're all going to die and I'm totally stuck with her in my court, and she doesn't even understand the point of Fear. Also, Rose is a total bitch. This is all Frost's fault, but secretly it's mine. Signed, Dempsey the Harvest King.
Okay, put that way, I'm being super immature. I'm not even mad about it anymore. I still don't understand why Alex made him a member of the freehold just out of the blue. For a rapist, he's really big on mercy? Also, WTF, Alex is a RAPIST?
Also Alex didn't know that his fae wasn't dead. He totally freaked out, and started taking his clothes off, but he kept his pants and went to the bar and drank himself into a stupor. Like, Alex. Alex the stoic dragon guy. Drunk rapist. Jimmy Hendrix.
Winter King. He is on the throne, and I will yield to his decrees, but the freehold is vulnerable. Evidence of mental weakness cannot be permitted any King during their reign. I went into the bar and blessed him. Knowing his habit of smoking, I also poured blessed water into his hookah. I will continue to treat him secretly, until I am certain that he carries his burden with full cognizance.
In accord with tradition, my resolution is this:
Though I cannot know all of Fate's machinations, and though I will never fathom the whims our Keepers, I can champion all of our sanities. I will ensure that ground is not lost in our fight for clarity.
===Counting Hours===
She bid the Crimson Spear good afternoon. She had books to consult.
Thud. Thud.
Someone at the door. Rita stuck where she was, halfway to her library, boots both winged and pinned down by Fear. She knew it was him. In her head, a great clock boomed out the hour. She should run, now, and never stop running. She was a king, she should act like it.
"Do come in!" The Ballerina Queen's voice chimed, the cuckoo herald.
Shiny door handles moved. Grab the Helm and run, he'll get us all killed! cried the Frightened Veterinarian.
The light of sunset made a thin stripe between the opening doors, a yellow minute hand. You will face your peer with dignity befitting your title, insisted the Harvest King.
Golden fire leaked in, forming the flame-lattice hour hand. Her lips pressed into a line.
Run, God, please just run! the fetch pleaded.
Armor clunked. Lemonade was sent for. "If you'll excuse me, I need to speak with Miss Degollar."
His steps were the ticking, tar-black veins the delicate carving, his polite question the ringing out of every hour she'd had, every hour she'd not found a right answer.
She lied to him.
The gears of Fate's infernal machine ground backward. 
Friday January 2, 1891
Fletcher returned, but I stalled him two days more, with a lie and eight buckets. Within this time, Alex must convince Frost that merging our freeholds is necessary. Then, I convince Alex that this journey to F-----e is necessary. To do that, I convince myself that these doomed missions are required to secure our Fates for the better. To get there, I need to figure out what's going on.
More information is needed.
I must ask Fletcher to tell me, in full, the legend of the G------r and the K--g of the H--------s, I need to know his role in it. I will ask the same of Brian Sharpe, to gain another perspective. I should avoid Gloria, my pledge was dangerous. I must also ask Frost to attempt to speak with Azkedelia's spirit, to learn what was said to her by R---l G---m, perhaps it will be of use.
The G------r hopes I have found all of her clues. I wouldn't want to disappoint the Gentry.
I hurt Remy yesterday, like really scary bad. He's being all tough[,] but what I did was really bad and [I'm] scared it's gonna happen again because I have to know or we're all going to die. [A]lso [I] was ok with "The Reaver" (haha that's a silly name), but after going inside Remy's head I'm not sure the Reaver's ok anymore. I can't like focus on it right now but I'm gonna pay attention and make sure there[']s like nothing [I] have to fix. Also I almost killed Odin-Dempsey. I need to visit him and make sure he's okay. I helped fight a dragon, I'm super tired.
I must neither rest nor feed, save on Fear itself, while there is yet time to glean all that I can. I am of a like mind to Penny. The domain of the G      r and the K  g of the H        s should be razed in fire and blood.
I don't even know what I should pack.
-
The pen paused over yellow paper, and Rita looked over her assessments, her complaints  her decision to never again taste the food of this realm, should the grand task end in failure. It all made a to-do list she hadn't meant to make.
The King of Ashes was item one.
She found him on the stair as she descended. They had that in common, at least. Did Dempsey use the elevator at Cresthaven? She couldn't recall. Perhaps all stupid, suicidal Autumn kings refused to use elevators.
She held out a hand to stop him, unable to pronounce a name. Fletcher was too presumptuous, Mister King of Ashes too cumbersome. "C-c-c-c... I'm sorry." She swallowed. "Could I speak with you privately? In the l-library. Please."
Friday January 2, 1891
8PM
Just an update. I'll probably never get to write in a diary ever again after we go, so I'm gonna write a whole bunch before we leave. Maybe someone will find this and read it and say, "Hey, look at all these crazy mistakes this totally crazy person made, maybe I should NOT do those?" Maybe they'll like find it with my dog skull and wonder why they're covered in those black veins, and whether they should bother going to A     a. Here's your answer, future-person: Hope is futile, the solution is eternally beyond you, so like, kill yourself and get it over with. Winter is upon you. Oh, also, I hid Merlin's journal: What's in Store for you will Register soon. Don't worry, it's Safe. I don't even want to make it a hard riddle because you might need the journal really bad like I did, but I wanna be mysterious for like five seconds. I'm sorry.
He didn't cut off my head, but I think he thought about it for a second. K.o.A. WAS given his eyes by the K  g of the H        s. He was sent to go kill the G      r, but saw his assignment as a chance to escape, and took it. He said he was chosen because the G       r seemed to favor him.
I wonder if I have things backwards, if Edlyn's kidnapping wasn't orchestrated by the G       r, if it was maybe actually the K  g of the H        s wanting his Legend-doer guy back.
The journal's in my bookstore, on Main street and Third. Panorama Bookstore. There's a rusty safe in the back, and the key to it is in the register. You're probably magic and don't need a key or something, anyway. Whatever, I'm tired. I helped you. You owe me a beyond-the-grave favor. Don't worry, though. I'm 100% dead because I don't even have a soul, apparently. That's so dumb.
(Notes: Harvest King Degollar penned nearly a dozen more entries throughout the night and day leading up to the Journey, most of which have been lost.)
==Return==
"He's run off and left me with this... this FAKE."
Harvest King Rita Degollar
Guardian of the Bridge, Blackbird Bishop
Age 24, 154, 130
Saturday October 24, 1996
I keep hearing Her talk, but I don't remember much of what She said. I keep thinking of Odin Dempsey, and the Other one. I killed him, just like that. His neck snapped. Is that why the noose was there? The King of Ashes is gonna kill me, because I'm a murderer. I cried, for a lot of reasons.
This isn't Remy's bed. It's better, so why am I afraid of it? I'm so, so tired, but I don't think I can sleep. I feel like I've done something wrong, like I have to fix it, but there's nothing I can do. There's nothing to fix. Everything's better, but it's so much darker here. I murdered Odin Dempsey. I think it would have been worse to come here and him suddenly not be in my dreams, but I killed him, because I didn't know what would happen.
I did it, though. I saved Dempsey.
I went to Arcadia. It was the worst thing ever. I can't fix any of it.
But I did it.
No, I was actually just a tool She used to get what She wanted. Does it matter? I became brave, too. I became a King, I got way stronger. Maybe I wasn't brave. I was just a pawn. Rook and Pawn are dead.
I think maybe Remy's wrong about fetches. Maybe we are bad news. Maybe it's just me that's bad news. It'd be better if I just left and went back to pretending I'm human. That's so weird. I still think of myself as a regular human. I don't feel like a robot, robots don't talk like me or cry about imaginary people.
Odin Dempsey was an imaginary construct, but that doesn't make him not a person, because I'm an imaginary construct, too. So is Remy. I'm tired. I'm a sleepy murderer.
I have to find Frost. He'll be mad at me.
-
The courtroom felt so much heavier than she remembered. Her instinct was to hunch her shoulders under the weight, and keep near the walls, but she forced her chin up, and strode right down the middle of the mostly empty room. She was the Harvest King, dammit.
Rita handed the paper bag off to Spe- Mute, pretending she wasn't scared of the golden-eyed woman on the throne. "Big Mac." It wasn't that she was scared scared, it was just that she couldn't look at her without thinking of the Queen Rose she knew, and she couldn't do that without giggling about the dating advice, and the frying pan, and the mannerisms, and-
The fetch turned, biting her lip to stop the grin, and sauntered out. It wasn't funny. It wasn't funny. 
Later
So, like, a couple of things don't match up. Dempsey was still dragged into Arcadia against his will, which means KoH broke his oath, right? Unless he was cool with it because he was crazy, and then, that's fine, but, we don't actually know that, i don't know, maybe She Paintfacenapped him and made him the Other? Maybe KoH had nothing to do with it? But She can't lie, so maybe im just overthinking this.
She also said the black veins, the "Curse," were a result of his machinations. She wasn't lying but what if She was twisting the truth? What if this was a joint effort between them both? What would that even accomplish? If all those things I saw were part of KoH's scheme, and we supposedly foiled it, then why are all of them true now?
But then, that doesn't match up, either. No accounts of KoH that I've found describe him working with Her at all, ever. She was always mad that he'd run off. Perhaps I misunderstood. Rose obviously intends to destroy Her now, when Felix didn't seem to care, so why would the Gardener do something to move forward the Legend of her being cut down?
Either way, i feel a lot better now that I got to sleep, but I'm still not sure if I wish we'd stayed at Cresthaven, back in 1890, and just stopped S-r before he attacked. i dunno. Dempsey and Glenn are alive, and it sounds like La Fontaine is doing really, really good, even if they did the total opposite of what we wanted them to do by splitting up with Cresthaven. Whatever, I'm gonna watch a movie on my TV, and after that I'm gonna watch another movie on my laptop.
-
Against every survival instinct Rita had, she kept her mouth shut, and trusted Penny.
The ballerina strode in to Bradley and Harmon's shared office, oozing officiality as she spun the latter's empty chair around with one finger and flopped into it, skirts settling like falling blossoms around Her Eternal Majesty.
"Hello, Miles."
Rita stood off to the side like a weird plant, and elbowed the clipboard she needed the information off of.
Later
I talked to Penny about her durance. She had to rake glass shards with her hands, but it was okay, because she just didn't and then lied about it. I'm pretty sure I love/hate Penny. She's a reconnaissance mastermind but she's also a total bitch. Apparently I'm on a Watch List because I've been muttering and acting weird. I am not even acting weird.
Talked to Her. She is DEFINITELY a total bitch, but her King is still missing, though now there's no one replacing Him. How can that be? I thought He needed Dempsey to replace Him. If He could always leave without a replacement, why bother with one? What does it mean if there's no one taking His place?
Have to find Him so I can watch Him. I think I know a way, but I'd have to figure out how to leave the freehold for a day or two without anyone thinking anything of it. Idea: maybe Tuesday, tell people I'm taking a break from being a magical robot, that I'll be with my parents.
Me and Penny went to Los Angeles by accident. Alpha Zero is there! So is Nancy, and she isn't mad at me! She just read my Harvest King journal and tried to be the kind of king I was, which is totally crazy, because I was copying Dempsey, so I guess I did a good job if she wants to copy me. Oh, and she's been King for like a few years, and totally isn't dead of acting like me, so I guess there is hope after all! Nancy is seriously my favorite person ever.
Hey Diary, here's a secret that isn't a secret: I hate pie. I've always hated pie, and I will hate pie forever. Also, I'm totally hiding from Penny and Mina in the library. Mission successful, I have to go to work now, and I WILL DRIVE MYSELF ALL BY MYSELF.
===A Piece in Bloom===
-
Hex
-
The Harvest King leaned her head against the cab window, a ratty yellow backpack unzipped on the seat next to her. The young driver was content to be silent, and Rita sat with her journal open on her lap, reading over her last entry, penned hours before. The pages were full of dark convictions and evil promises. She was still half immersed in the cold persona, consumed by her assumed duty and priorities, but none of them could be carried out.
Sunday November 1st, 1996
There is yet hope that I can bring Reeves back, and so I cannot court Sorrow. Nor Wrath must I feel, for I remember now that murder is not the way, and that deals with the Others made in haste lead only to ruin. I will wait to be contacted. Convincing the motley to wait with me may be difficult, but it must be done. I must be likewise vigilant of my fellow freeholdsmen--should any attempt at revenge be made against Richard, all will be lost, whether through his death or his absolute refusal to cooperate.
Fuck Spring Court
Of note, the king of an unknown nomadic freehold consisting of only one court ("The Court of Spades," a name used to describe nearly every Court) has taken interest in the Guardians of the Bridge. I suspect Frost has gained a gaggle of faithful followers, but I can't be certain. My driver is a Sacred Courier, and those are always incredibly good and reliable changelings. I have requested audience with the king.
-
They rode in silence the rest of the way home--Mojo's home, not theirs, if he was right.
When the hotel loomed over them with few fiery eyes remaining, Mojo slid off the mount, and his feet hitting the grass was terrible to hear. He brushed Rita's hand print off the huge nail, and she wanted to shut her eyes to it, but didn't. It clanged against the dumpster's side and lay across plastic bags of refuse. He went inside alone.
Rita stepped up on the concrete patio and leaned over the sour waste. The nail was heavy, but she wrapped her hands around the cold metal and pulled it out, her mouth set in a line.
Later
We are the same people. We are the Guardians of the Bridge that everyone here knows. I still have a stutter and wear track suits all the time, I still drive a beige minivan, and Mojo still helped us fight Arawna, and he is still my friend. He's wrong. We're the originals, and so are the people he knew, because we're the same people. Our memories are a little different, that's it. We're not suddenly duplicates whenever we sell off chunks of our minds to goblins, so what does it matter if our memories are different because we altered the course of history? Everyone was born who was supposed to be, to the same people, and grew up the same way until a decade ago, and that change was minimal. There's only one me, and there's only one Reeves.
Everyone changes as they get older, anyway, and that doesn't make them not the same person you once knew. It's the same principle. No, Reeves didn't used to throw dressers out of windows, in this world or the last. He changed. I didn't used to have guts enough to do the things I've done, and am going to do. If that makes me someone else, then there's no fucking point to any of this, because everyone else in the whole world dies countless times over, and what's the big deal about dying physically compared to that?
Fuck all of that fucking agony emotional turmoil bullshit. It's a stupid fucking coping mechanism, like, oh, you're not the same person I fell in love with. No. They ARE the same person. You can't just not love someone anymore because they're suddenly different when it's the same piece of soul inside of them. If you don't like something about someone, you either care enough to change it your own goddamn self or you don't and you choose to stop loving them. I haven't died at all, I'm not someone else, I'm the only Harvest King Rita Degollar, and everyone can suck it the fuck up if they have a problem with it.
Sleeping in my van tonight. My boyfriend is dead and his friends are all dumbasses except for fucking Pat who's the only one who fucking gets it.
Goodnight, Journal. I'm sorry I wrote cuss words in you. I didn't mean to get upset.
===Unsent Letter===
Two of the old kings stepped in the side door of a freehold that was buzzing like a wasp nest. Someone brushed the Harvest King's shoulder going past, and she let her colleague go ahead of her.
Rita could almost feel Todd just under the surface, pacing, waiting for an opening. War preparations. That was definitely his territory, his job. Hell, they were going to get themselves killed without him.
"No," She mumbled to no one, and moved toward the stairway on the far side of the lobby. She had to move slow, and concentrate on walking. "No."
At the bottom step, she hesitated, and gazed over at the other stairway--the short one that used to lead down into the bar. Maybe she should get totally sloshed.
'D-d-d-' A hundred and thirty years ago, when Rita was still mostly just Rita, she had shut her eyes and taken a deep breath, 'E-excuse m-me. I-I don't know if, like, umm... I-if Tylenol's been invented, s-so, do you have anything for, like, pain?' 
'Wha' kinna pain, miss?' 
For Remy's leg. Too bad Richard had just broken it again- "Ohhh god." Rita ripped her eyes from the hole and lurched up the steps. The good-intentioned voices in her head offered suggestions. Rita wanted to scream and cry and let Sorrow finally have its day, but something she hated told her that it wasn't Winter yet.
The Harvest King lifted her head and leaned over the rail, gazing up the stairwell. She set her mouth in a line. She felt the heat that comes before tears, and she quelled it. Stilled the ache in her chest.
Rita wanted to ache. She didn't want to think or figure out puzzles anymore, but that didn't matter. It started to feel like she was barely real at all anyway, like she was just a Rita mask over Todd the Lion, but even that Mask was just her Harvest King impression. Now a leaking bottle in her head was talking. Where did the frightened veterinarian go?
The question broke through the terrible dark, and started pulling her out of it.
'From what I recall, Miss Degollar,' Someone had said in a French accent that Rita was never sure was real, 'You are one to, ah, bounce back rather quickly. Why can you not just ... sleep it off?' 
She laughed. She laughed at him, with his fancy saber and fabulous coats. She laughed at Queen Rose and Golden Rose, at Glen and Lula, she laughed at Frost even though the leaking bottle told her it wasn't that funny. Frost had been just like her, once. Took a crown because someone else needed him to. Had no idea what he'd signed up for, could never have guessed where it'd lead. Just wanted to do the right thing.
Dempsey and Felix. Rita's snickering turned into shaking and little gasps, and she leaned her head against the wall that she'd curled up against. The stairs were totally for stupid, suicidal Autumn Kings.
She cried.
Tuesday November 24th, 1996
Richard,
I didn't love him enough when he was here. That's why I want to bring him back, to make up for it, to love him like I should have before. We didn't have any time together, and it isn't fair. He didn't "have a good long life", and he didn't "live to the fullest", whatever that even means. Everyone else can just rewind time and rearrange fate so they get what they want, or else they think about the good days and treasure them, but I can't do either because our good days were just the days we came back with no blood on his hands or cuts on my arms.
I knew it would end, I really can't lie to you. I knew from the day that Arawna burned down the house with us in it, I knew that both of us were going to die sooner rather than later. I tried to use that to make the most of our time, but I was always too busy trying to unravel Fae plots that are still beyond me, or decipher other people's insanities, and I'd always go to bed long after him. He would go somewhere else, standing guard in a hallway or fighting monsters or getting upgrades that scared me.
Sometimes, we'd be in the same room, and I'd sit with him. Sometimes, we'd be in our room, and he'd look at all the empty tubes of lipstick I'd scribbled on the bathroom mirror with. He never told me I was crazy, or that I was just wasting my time. He just held me.
I made him mad more times than he made me mad. It was always stupid stuff, like "You should be proud of what you are" and "Rita stop putting yourself in danger for no reason." I'm really bad at being angry, though. I get too tired to be angry.
I'm afraid that, even if you did give me that piece of soul (you won't), even if I rescued all of his memories (I can't) and rebuilt his body just like it was (I wouldn't), if I did bring him back, would it just be the same? Where we're both too busy?
We went to Paris, once. It was really romantic, and I loved it, but my favorite date we ever went on wasn't really a date. I wanted to check on the city, there was a wizard, and Remy was freaking out because the wizard knew his name. We went back to the wizard's apartment and he made us tea. I still don't know what the tea did, but I'm sure it did something. He was a wizard, you know? After tea, we broke into the freehold, and sat on the bathroom floor in my room and made some stupid jokes. I don't remember what they even were, but that's the memory I keep going back to. It sounds cute, but it's pretty terrible. A bunch of people were dead and the King of Ashes almost cut my head off. Remy was there, though, and I told him I loved him.
Every now and then I pray that this is all a hallucination from that tea, that we're fine, passed out together behind a dumpster in 1890. Maybe mugged, but otherwise no worse for wear. That would be so great. There's no waking up from this, though. All I can do is call myself Todd and call him Reeves so I can keep working. It isn't his name, though. I hate myself, Richard. I keep reminding myself that you were the one who snapped his neck and crushed his skull and made me watch it all, you're the one I should hate with everything I have, but I'm not angry enough or strong enough to hate you. If only I'd taken a few seconds to grab him, take him into the Hedge with me instead of going alone. If only I'd stopped telling him what happened and tried to calm him down, instead. If only I'd gone after him sooner, maybe we could have slugged it out. I don't know. I don't think I could have made anything worse.
I couldn't handle it, when you killed him. They tell me my mind has shattered, and that's where Todd came from. I don't know what to do about it. There's no time to get help, no time to fix me, and I'm going to die crazy. I hate that. I worked so hard, I stayed up so many nights, neglected everyone so many times because I was trying to save them.
It hurts. I've done so much, and I'm worth so little in the grand cosmic scheme that there isn't even an afterlife for me, Richard. Not for me, not for Remy. We'll never see each other again.
When I die, I'll just dissolve, like he did. My memories will fizzle away, totally lost. My little slice of borrowed soul will go to someone else, and they won't know me any better. I'll be some springs and some gory chunks of my dad's old, dead dog.
Thanks for listening, Diary. I'm sorry I keep writing bad things in you.
===Loose Ends===
Rita made it to his bedroom, shut the door, and tore off a sheet of stationery from the bedside table. She stared at the bed. Slowly, slowly, she reached out with a hand covered in little white scars, and touched the soft cover, still unmade from that morning twenty one days ago. She sniffed and withdrew, and looked for a pen.
It was a blue plastic one. She turned it over in her hand, and chewed the end, thinking of what to write.
'Remy, you can't steal pens, it's bad.' 
'It's not that bad.' 
'If everyone in the world stole pens, we wouldn't have pens anymore.' 
'No, Rita, then everyone would have pens.' 
"Shh," She said out loud around the stolen pen, like shushing the memory would make it go away and stop distracting her.
Hi Peter,
I hope you're doing good. I know it's weird that I'm writing a letter on paper instead of just texting you, but I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to London to visit Remy. I don't know how long I'll be gone, but I hope we'll both be back soon. Keep studying, okay? I'm really proud of you for doing so good in science. Science is the coolest subject.
Happy Thanksgiving, stay safe!
-Rita
The fetch folded the brief note, and put it in her jacket pocket. She wasn't sure whether it'd be faster to mail it or wait to stick it in their mailbox, herself, while the family wasn't home. Speaking of family ...
tuesday november 24 1996
to-do list
talk to Arawna about mom and dad, see if she wants to meet them before we both die in a crazy war.
tell dad what's going on, he'd want to know even if it hurt.
ask Mojo if he wants to say goodbye with me.
say goodbye
-
Penny was quiet for a second, then turned her stuck smile on the fetch. "Oh, what a shame! Your van won't start. Do you want to take the limousine, or the Rolls Royce?"
Rita tensed up and stared at the empty space between her companions--one the murderer of her beloved, the other just murder on her sanity. She counted down from ten. "We'll take the Rolls."
Friday, November 27th 1996
It's a good thing I'm not an oracle because I'd be a really bad one. Richard totally showed up to the freehold today. Did not see that coming. After what Jack told me I was like "Omg now I'll have to wait forever to even try talking to him" but nope, he just walked in the front door on his own.
Me and him and Penny went to dinner. We talked. I think he's planning to give us the soul piece. He's staying in a motel somewhere. We need to talk again, soon, but I don't want to rush this.
Now that it's almost completely within my power to rebuild Reeves, I'm growing more and more afraid to. What if something were to go wrong? I have to acknowledge the fact that if it didn't turn out, we could have to kill him, again. I couldn't do that. That'd be inhuman.
Diary, I still can't believe I'm not human. I think that's the only reason I'm not like, in a straight jacket right now. Because my head's busy still trying to comprehend that I'm not really Rita, I'm a magical robot imposter, so everything else I'm doing is totally on autopilot. I have seriously no idea what I'm doing and I miss Remy.
That's the other thing. I keep thinking about what Frost did, when he made me rewatch the Richard thing, like he did with Arawna. With Arawna, he was trying to show me that I needed to forgive her and help her. I feel like I'm supposed to do the same thing with Richard. That seems like a weird thing for Frost to want, but whether it's what he was going for or not, I think it's kind of the right thing to do. I'm just not sure whether taking the soul piece from him or just giving him Remy's memories is how I help him. I guess we just need to talk more.
What a shame, since I'm sure I'm going to die in Arcadia before we can. On the bright side, everyone here who wants to kill him is going to die with me, so then all Richard will have to worry about is everyone ELSE he's ever pissed off.
I guess, in that case, I should just give him the thing and tell him what it is and leave the choice up to him. Plus, if he ends up not liking having double memories, he can just sell them. It's not like I sold a life-saving power and betrayed a friend to be able to transcribe those or anything. Totally whatever.
-
"I bet it's some crazy Fae attack," Rita muttered. 
Images flashed on the screen. A news report. A dead man.
Saturday, November 28th 1996
Let's take a look at Frost.
He escaped from Arcadia, and joined Cresthaven. Lady Green wanted a Winter King, and even though he really didn't want the position, and had no experience, he accepted the crown, and tried to do the best he could. He was king for ten years, which is way longer than me. Enter us, with our crazy time travel nonsense. He needed access to our heads, and he found the first bottle there, and
Wait, the bottle. Frost's contingency plan. Oh my God, was Frost's contingency plan to convince him to off himself?
That's plausible, and Frost had gone through a ton. He tried to do the right thing, but everything he touched went totally wrong. He lost the person he loved most, obsessing over things that were out of his power. He started living in a dream world, where he could be with her, where everything was the way it was supposed to be. He was exiled. He started turning to higher powers.
I haven't been exiled, and I haven't been dealing with this crazy stuff for a hundred years, but I think I understand Fear really well. Understanding Fear doesn't help me deal with suicidal thoughts, except that I'm too scared to kill myself, because even worse things might happen if I'm not here to try and stop them. I have Fear because I have Hope. Frost was a King of Sorrow. He had to know how to deal with wanting to give up, way, way more than I do. He didn't give up when the whole freehold was slaughtered and Lady Green died and Felix went on a psycho war path and the Crimson Spear got himself killed and we disappeared. He didn't give up.
I think he did what he did to me out of spite and anger, but I wonder if, on some weird, freaky, psycho changeling level, he was trying to steel me. It was working, I mean, even with the horrible new twist (haha D: ) on it, I was definitely deadened to it. It's not like I haven't thought about it over and over for hours at a time on my own. I didn't LIKE it, but I didn't cut off my nose or slice open my mouth over it. I'd look like Town if I did that last one, also there's important facial muscles there that some surgeons worked really hard to reconstruct after the Briarwolf.
Basically, I suspect foul play. I'm going to investigate.
==The Notebook==
The King of Spades paused, regarding the duo from atop his high throne. "You have a new escort, Miss Degollar?"
She gave her disguised companion a once-over, and turned a smug grin on the masked royalty. She felt like Penny as she said it. "Yes, I do. Goodnight."
Harvest King Rita Degollar
24
Guardian, Bishop
Tried to be quiet, pretty sure I woke him up. I don't think he'll be suspicious, he knows I keep a journal. I stuttered today. I didn't like it and I got frustrated and that just made it worse. Trying to keep this short. Queen of Spades is dead, Court of Spades is moving.
Richard read the book. Told me some stuff. He was magically manipulated into murdering Remy, I'm certain of it. Also told me he likes-likes me, told me he felt that way since the pub. Not sure if dating him is cheating on Remy.
Diary, only magical boys are into me. I'm not really complaining. Also Richard is full of it, my mien is way worse than his.
-
"King Degollar," Those awful gold eyes, all slick with his granddaughter's blood, rolled around to settle on the horrific fetch. Rita couldn't remember ever being so happy to see him. "Your mask, if I may."
Saturday, December 5th 1996
I'm alive, but there are so many dead. I saved as many as I could, but I keep thinking about all the ones I lost. The iris girl keeps bothering me. If I'd just been faster. Phillip too. Rhett is the worst, I should have been able to save him. I should have been fast enough to cut down Miles. Poor Lois.
They told me to take a break. I don't even remember who. Whoever they were, they can't boss me around, I'm the Nightmare Nurse. I am Sophie Who Chooses. I am really worn out. Every time I blink, I see dead bodies. No sleeping.
I need to make sure Richard's okay, like mentally. He was helping me. I'll do that right now, then back to work. Pretty sure we're both still processing everything.
ALSO KING OF ASHES IS ALIVE I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO
-
"Wait! Whuh-what's your name?"
"We..." The soaked man stopped and turned his head to think it over. Rita could still feel the echoes of what she'd lost like a phantom limb, a sharp aching of raw unnerves and hollowness, but he'd gained life, and that was worth it. His watery eyes flicked back to hers. "We haven't decided on one yet." Worth half her soul. With that, he walked away.
April ? 1997
Sold half my soul for some gossip. I knew it was a bad deal, but the guy got to be alive again, I wanted to help him. Told Chauntecleer, he wasn't even mad at me. While he was making fun of me about it, I figured out that I loved him. I didn't say so. Maybe in the morning.
Didn't say anything about Remy in the cracked mirrors. Established brief communication with other-Rita. Alternate dimension hypothesis probable (note for later: Universe 1 a possibility, if yes, erased ourselves or swapped with them?). Abyssals roam their world, and appeared after something catastrophic, some wizard job gone wrong? Chicago was evacuated. Dad is the only mage they have, why? Tried to tell her to appreciate Remy while she still could, conversation was cut short by abyssals.
I'm worried. Want to find a way to help them. Have to make sure here is safe.
Fuck werewolves. Research Pyros, Azoth, soul-smithing.
Ferryman said Frost possibly alive but more likely a shade (Medium said his spirit was unreachable, had moved on. Ferryman a liar, or Frost is alive?), confirmed non-suicide. Rumors from recent dead say earthquakes, blackouts maybe coming from "Under City," what Chicago was built over. Metaphor for sewers, or actual city? Both? Investigate thoroughly. Find a way down without going through literal shit.
There's something wrong with Alex, but there's something wrong with everyone. Sold half my soul for some gossip.
-
The imposing portrait dwarfed him, all royal and legendary while he just looked up at it, his grand costume traded for a t-shirt and shorts. The King of Ashes was unarmed and facing away, but Rita stood out of scythe-reach. A habit.
"Why did you do it?"
May 7, 1997
I don't think anyone understands how serious I am about not wanting my head to get chopped off.
Rose got elected for Spring Queen, which is crazy. I didn't vote. I was afraid of electing Penny, and afraid of electing Rose, and afraid of electing Eden, but him just because of what people might think.
Penny nominated me for Autumn King. I know it wasn't because she actually thinks I'd do a good job, but because she doesn't want KoA to get what he wants. I don't blame her, I'm pretty inclined to run just because he's so sinister all the time and I know he would totally chop off my head if he felt like he had to, but, so would Pat. So would Penny, probably. And Alex. All of my friends would totally murder me if it looked like they had to. Is that normal?
Chauntecleer wouldn't do that, though, so I think he and I should go live somewhere else (like a house! <3). He hates his job anyway, but I don't know how to help him, every time I try to talk to him about it we get distracted. I have to stay and help stop the apocalypse, anyway. I don't know when all this is going to end. I thought I was done after Arawna, and then things kept happening, and here I am.
God, I don't want to be King. I want to leave and be done. This stupid freehold has gotten me almost killed like a hundred times in less than a year.
I don't know how to feel about KoA anymore. My knee-jerk is to try and stop whatever he's doing, because whatever it is, he's doing it the quick way instead of the bloodless way, but he asked me to trust him. That meant a lot to me, I don't know why. I guess I'm gonna trust him. I can't believe he got my soul back.
I really hope we don't get murdered by abyssals. That would just suck super bad.
==Metroplex Psychological Detention and Treatment Center==
"There's... a facility in Texas I can refer you to." Edelyn Prescott pushed up her glasses and wrote something in black ink with a withered hand. "They specialize in dealing with conditions like yours."
Rita Degollar 
Age 24
May 12th, 1997
Mrs. Prescott recommended this place to me. I'm not sure I belong here, but she's the professional. If nothing else, this is a good preventative measure, and I'll be out in a week month short time, I don't really know how long this takes.
The other girls seem nice, but some of them have restraints on their beds, which is why I think coming here may have been too extreme. I know I have problems, but they're little things I think I can fix, myself. I mean, everyone has something wrong with them, but that doesn't mean you need to commit yourself over it. Therapist here seems nice. Probably going to find out nothing's really wrong with me.
-
"Rita, go lay on your bed, and go to sleep."
"Okay, but," She kept just out of arm's reach of the staff member blocking her doorway, picking at her nails and staring into their eyes, watching their patience drain like blood from a slain cow. "I need to know what's going on."
"No. Go lay down."
She looked away, and then looked back. "Okay, but, I need you to tell me."
"Rita, all of this is going in your file."
Away, back. "I'm not doing anything bad, I just need to know. I'm a veterinarian."
May 19th, 1997
Josephine is dead. She "killed herself." I had to write like two essays and talk to the therapist about it, but they said I was fixating on her instead of working on myself and talking about my erratic behavior. 
Apparently I turned into Todd last night. No one can tell me what I did, and I didn't know that was what Sergeant was talking about until after. Now I'm on watch for something about inappropriate sexual conduct. I don't know what I did. I really, really hope I didn't actually pee on someone. I also don't see how taking my mascara helps me. 
I feel a cold lump in my chest. It used to only be when I was going to have a bad day, but now it doesn't go away. I feel a lion just under my skin almost every minute I'm awake. I don't think he wants to be here. I don't want to be here.
-
"Many times in an emotionally abusive relationship, the victim will go back to the abusive party nine or ten times before finally getting out of the situation."
Rita blinked at the younger woman, surprised. She felt that red feeling climb from her chest and up her face and down her arms like a mantle flaring. Was she getting angry? Should she say something? "That's not how it is. He's never done anything like that."
"I can tell it's causing you some cognitive dissonance."
Everything was definitely redder. Rita's mouth worked, and she searched for a defense of her boyfriend's character. He was the one who convinced her to come here and do this.
"Perhaps you just need a clean break."
'Aagh,' In the grey cemetery, Frost touched his head like he had a migraine. "You have a break."
'We sense a break.' Said the Acamoth through her father's mouth.
Rita never heard her own voice elevate into a furious roar. "I've got YER CLEAN BREAK RIGHT HERE!"
May 21, 1997
I feel sick. I listen to the words that come out of my mouth every time I talk, and I can hear it now. Paranoid. Irrational.
There are restraints on my bed, too. More than the other girls'. Sergeant told me I had an episode during the session. She told me I overpowered two staff, that I tried to steal keys and enter other girls' rooms.
I'm a lunatic. I always saw something wrong and bad when I looked at myself in the mirror, but wearing makeup helped and now I can't have makeup, I feel naked and fucked up and the staff stare at me because I've attacked them, like a fucking rabid animal.
It's terrifying. Crazy people don't function in real society, they pace in their rooms and don't shower and die alone because mortal doctors can't understand how to fix them. I'm scared and keep asking myself what Odin would do, but he would never have committed himself. Maybe visited a church secretly, to clear his head. Same thing with Frank. Not sure about Caesar.
[Doodles of gory splatter]
===Sent Letter II===
Todd lifted his chin and looked down his broad nose at the seated staff member. He ignored their wary gaze and held a ceremoniously folded scrap of thin paper out at arm's length. "Give this to the therapist woman."
She turned it over in her hands, pressing her lips into a line at the clay seal with some faux sigil of royalty traced into it. "Rita, you can't use the play-do for this. It needs to go back in the container."
"Fine," The Lion said through gritted fangs. "May I please have tape, instead?"
Dearest General,
I feel we've gotten off to a bad start, you and I. I am writing to show you that I am a civilized creature. You, being an exceptional woman, must understand that I didn't choose to be here, and so, being a free man, should be released from this facility forthwith, as I plainly do not belong. I am not dangerous, and do not wish harm on you or your fine underlings.
I hope I've made my point very clear, and I expect the return of my affects shortly.
Respectfully yours,
-Todd DeLeon
P.S.: Do not tie me down again or I will bite off your arms and bludgeon you with them until your face is like meat, which I will then press into hamburger and grill over the open flames of your tragically short life's work.
P.S.: You should wear your hair down, you're a lovely woman and it's a shame to see you hide it.
==Bishopric of Chicago==
The King of Ashes gazed down into the green drink without looking at it, stirring with a plastic blade. Rita held her empty beer bottle and waited for him. They sat together in silence, thinking about family, living and lost.
"Thank you," The words came out oddly, like he hadn't expected to say them. "For the talk."
"Hey man," Rita shrugged. "Tha's what friends are for."
June 11th, 1997
Killed Frost's ghost last night. It was fucked up. I called it, the thing on KOA's shoulder was him. And we killed him. He was still crazy and evil.
Frost told me Dempsey was the one who killed him. I called that, too.
Went out drinking at a fancy club with KOA afterward. He was really beat up over it. I feel like it's something too sad to cry over. Like it's something you just look down at the floor about, and your eyes are wet, and you think about nothing for a while, until you realize your jaw hurts because you were clenching it tight.
KOA said he found Frost in the Underworld, or somewhere like that. Frost had my soul. The half I gave away, anyway. KOA said I was lucky Frost hadn't learned how to puppet me with it.
Everything is so fucked up.
The cracks aren't fixed. I haven't seen myself on the other side in months.
I'm afraid, but right now I'm more sad than afraid. I'm not angry, either. It fits, I guess? All of Frost's Sorrow had to go somewhere.
===Decision===
"Of course, we always need more medics."
"Excuse me," Catherine entered like a magnificent, blazing busy-body. "I overhead you say that you needed more medics? I happen to be an expert in medical care."
Rita squinted at the phoenix while Cerastes accepted the additional help gratefully. Being the nightmare nurse was her thing.
June 27th, 1997
So angels are real? Not sure if Jericho is alive. Saved dad! Cracks dealt with, universe that never was, and isn't real, so I don't have to feel bad about not helping them.
But dream creatures aren't real, either? So... ):
Gonna hang out with Cerastes on the battle field! Will probably be a horrifying monster stitching people back together during. He seems like an alright guy. I don't think we have anything in common besides being awesome fetch kings. He and Pat would probably get along.
Pat and I are friends in the sense that Pat hasn't killed me yet for stuff he would have killed strangers over. He's a good guy.
Got kinda drunk at Catherine's ice cream social, it was fun! Maybe D's good for her. I still feel sorry for D.
Not sure if I should start going to church again. Probably? I might ask Clyde if he does.
===Sent Letter II===
"You don't have to answer right now," The King of Ashes wasn't looking at her, and she didn't look at him. "You don't even need to answer me. You do have to answer yourself: Does it matter?"
July 1st, 1997
Rita,
This is you from the past. Chanticleer and I decided to sell some kinda traumatic memories that we were both present for. Some things might come up in conversation with other freehold people who kinda know what happened (BUT NONE OF THEM WERE THERE), and the things that come up are none of those people's business so you should just tell them to fuck off if they're like "What the heck, why don't you remember?"
The memories sucked, but what I learned from them is important. Taking unnecessary risks can mess up more people than just you. Never go into a dangerous situation without backup, and always be completely honest with your friends if the situation could be serious.
I can't emphasize enough how super important those lessons are.
Also Mojo is mad at you and you don't even care enough about it to argue anymore, so you haven't talked to him. You probably won't ever have a good relationship or talk to him again, beyond BS family small talk. Penny and Pat are cool with you. Arawna blames herself for some of the bad memory, but wasn't there for the main bad bits, and might be kinda freaked out, and also probably hates you, so I don't know what to tell you. Explain to her that you sold the memories? I don't think she'll be happy about it, though, and it's probably best to avoid the matter.
Honestly I have no idea how this is gonna work out, but KoA's made it this long and he's still functioning, so maybe this is a good idea?
--
"I'm not gay," Rita insisted into the glass, her eyes flicking over the "Kerr" stamped onto the outside of the mason jar. Conspiracy.
July 2nd, 1997
Oh my god I fucked Bastet and Remy was ok with it? He was there. Threesome. So like I was asleep on the couch in the hallway and this fucking like cat lady was like "Hey I'm fondling you" and I was like "I'm not a fucking fag" and then Tamerlane was like "You're bi." and I was like no and then I went to the bar and fucking the guy was mojo and he was like I have gaydar for an echo and I was like okay and he was like that I was bi? I was like, fuck. Becuase how like? You know? I don't fuck
girls
but then I talked to Richard, he said he made out with boys in school and probably Arcadia, like it was natural, and I didn't know what to do.
I feel really good and I don't know what to do.
Category:Fiction