Young Writers Society

"Let's start vis vhy ve punched Boris," Kratzer suggested. "And end vis how ze Hölle you forgot I'm vampiric and zerefore he'd go across ze room."

I turned to Engel, confused. "We? Why did you say 'we'?"

"Him, me, I don't know, it vas me but he vas ze vone doing it!" Kratzer waved a hand dismissively.

Edward froze when Boris posed his questions - and when Damascus went through him during the attempted hug - and looked like a deer in headlights when Kratzer referred to a time he had hoped his brother hadn't traced back to him. Schadel coughed and uttered something that suspiciously sounded like "you should have told him first" under her breath.

He shot her a look before turning back to Boris.

"I, um, uh..." Edward shifted nervously in his chair, an uneasy expression settling on his face. "I, uh...kind of...possessed everyone in the room? It wasn't intentional. But my hair pin fell out, and I was trying to find it, and then I accidentally possessed Engel. And then I possessed you, and thought you were dead because you didn't put up a fight at all. And then I accidentally possessed Damascus, and he went naked, and it was really uncomfortable seeing him without any clothes on. And then I possessed James, who I'm pretty would have slugged me across the face if we weren't sharing a body. And then there was Wilson, and that was really, really awkward. And then I possessed Schadel, and she helped me stop the whole possession thing."

I nodded. From what I could remember, and from what I had seen, Edward's story made prior events make more sense. It certainly explained Engel's odd behaviour.

But the way Edward avoided addressing our fight, which had been the focus of my question, and then drew out the story thereafter, served only to make me suspicious.

"You possessed Engel, and then me, you say."
I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Don't you think you're skipping over something important?"

"Why would I skip over something important?" Edward asked, his voice jumping up an octave as he ended his question. "It's not like I'm trying to hide anything-"

"He asked for all of the information, Edward," Schadel reminded him - her voice was little more than a whisper in his ear. "You're bound by the rules of the game."

He gave her a betrayed look. "Why aren't you helping me out with this?"

"It wasn't my idea to punch Boris," she replied, her voice louder than before. Edward bit back a swear when he realized Boris would have easily overheard that last comment; he was certain that change in volume was intentional on Schadel's part.

Damascus had landed flat on his rear after trying to hug Edward, and he blinked up in surprise, still not sure what had gone wrong. He quickly forgot the ache of his muscles, and his position on the floor, and listened intently to the explanation of possession and the fight from earlier.

When Edward mentioned possessing him and him being naked, his eyes widened. So that was why his body had been talking to him.

"That was you?" he gasped from the floor, a bit slow on the uptake.

"That was it. Thank you, Schadel."

I turned to glare at Edward again, and addressed him in a thin, disaffected sort of tone. I was a little miffed, but I expected him to notice without being explicitly told. He knew what he did.

"So, why did you not tell me that it was you in there, at the very beginning? You might have saved the both of us, perhaps all of us, a lot of trouble.

I was mourning you, you know. I hope you are sufficiently touched."

"It was me," Edward confirmed, turning from Damascus to look in Boris's direction instead. He still felt guilty about punching Boris, but it wasn't like he hadn't tried to tell him who he was - he had! Boris had just been stubborn and wasn't paying attention to what he was saying.

...But something told him that Boris was still going to be upset, even if he said that.

He groaned.

"I am touched," he replied. "But I did try telling you! I told you that I was still here, and that I couldn't pass on because I would need a reaper to take my soul - like I said earlier tonight. I probably should have tried saying my name, but it's hard possessing people. You were unconscious when I possessed you, so you wouldn't understand. When I accidentally possessed Engel, he kept fighting it - it made it harder to move and speak, and it doesn't help that he's so drunk."

"Excushesh," James muttered, pointing a finger at Engel. "But it'sh... it'sh the pasht now. Just get better at uh, communicating if there'sh a nexsht time."

He made a fluttering motion with his fingers. "For now it'sh dusht in the wind. I mean, I was shtill rightfully piss'd atchya, when you uh, possessed me 'r whatever, but I'm not a ghost and won't never be a ghost so I 'unno what that's like, and I 'unno. Sounds streshful sometimesh. Being uh, dead or... undead." He pointed at Edward again, but his finger hung in the air, eventually slouching with his hand as his eyes started to glaze over a little.

"Hmm," he hummed, before his eyelids started to get droopy. He was feeling sleepy again. Maybe if he just closed his eyes for a second - aaaaand he was out. James's head dropped back against the back of the chair suddenly and his mouth hung open slightly as his body slouched down into the chair.

Damascus nodded and picked up the reassurances as James fell asleep. He scooted forward on the ground and attempted to pat Edward's ankle, not even noticing when it didn't work.

"It's okay, okay, Edward? I'm not mad you pos- possesh- you were inside my body. I know it was an accshident. Right, Borish?" He lowered his voice and leaned forward a little bit, "he's just upshet because of how worried you made him."

Boris frowned. Edward did make a fair point or two, and with all this unrestrained forgiveness being thrown around the room, it was becoming more difficult to justify his continued bitterness. Well. He could demonstrate forgiveness equal to the rest of them, and he would.

"The possession is no issue. That part didn't hurt." he said, curtly.

"And I forgive you, for throwing me into the bar.

I was being unreasonable, and I did throw the first blow.

But, I would still like to know why, after becoming fully aware of your vampiric strength, you thought that the appropriate response was to hit me a second time?"

There, in the end, his reasonable, indoor volume response devolved into a furious demand.

Oh, well. It had been a fine effort.

"As vould I!" Kratzer agreed, displeased that Edward had used his body to do it. He wasn't any more oblivious to the forgiveness running rampant in the room than Boris was but he cared considerably less. He didn't even bother to make an effort to sound like he was jumping on that train. Maybe he should've, but between the fact it'd been a very long day and the fact he was drunk, the amount of scheisse he gave was getting dangerously near 'none.'

Edward turned to Kratzer. "You were the one who did the slapping first," he replied. "You slapped me - you, us, whatever you would call it! - across the cheek, remember? And Boris wasn't listening to a single thing I was trying to tell him, so I thought it would be a good idea. It hurt when you did it, but it didn't that much - and I just meant to give him a little slap."

When he went to look back at Boris, he saw that Schadel was staring at him out of the corner of his eye. "You tried slapping sense into him?"

"It was more to get him to be quiet..." he reluctantly admitted. "He was quieting down after the punch, so I might have thought it would help because of that."

Schadel blinked. "...Edward, you know that doesn't work-"

"I was drunk," he interrupted, "and Engel is, too! That's like...drunkness squared. Do you really think I was thinking straight?"

"Even I can handle my alcohol better zan zat!" he protested. "And I slapped us to get you, vhen I didn't know vho you vere, to cut it out! Vhich is reasonable vhen vone's body is hijacked! And you knew I vas stronger zan you anticipated."