A/N: 1,030 words. Quality is probably poorer than usual. I wrote this within two hours. I'm looking for pacing, tips on character interaction, and predictions for going forward.
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The air between the quartet was tense, only cut by the cool wind of the underworld as it blew past them. Cora found herself staring down at her hands, trying to think of the words to explain the predicament that she had landed everyone in. Regret twisted into a thousand knots in her stomach, unable to be untangled. Balling her fists tight, she signed sorry with her right and looked down at the grass. She envisioned the curse — eldritch and coiling — running through her veins and sapping away at everyone’s life force. Looking back up at Samuel, she could see his face knit together in a frustrated and worried frown. Lena still burrowed her face into the crook of his neck while sobbing, seemingly soaking up his warmth and comfort.
Warmth and comfort that Cora didn’t have.
“If Cordelia is going to freeze up, I guess I’ll explain.” Romy’s typical voice sounded aloof and ambivalent, which was a cold sting compared to the normal consolation that Cora often sought. “Sammy? Samuel? Sam? Whatever your name is, welcome to the underworld — this is where you go when you die.”
Cora’s gaze snapped to Romy in horror — she started signing, “No, wait, stop. I’ll explain. Let me do it. They’ll hate me if you explain. Let me explain.” Her movements were clumsy and frantic, her fingers laden with lead-like dexterity yet her wrists not bound by weight limitations. She took a few steps forward, reaching out to grab Romy and watching in muted shock as her hands passed right through the ghost with little barrier.
Staggering back, Cora put her hands to her face and inhaled in the attempt to calm down her breathing. Her own hands smelled strongly of concentrated petrichor, and felt coated in liquid nitrogen. Anxiety spiked in her chest and brain. She started to rub her hands on her jeans to get the smell and sensation off of her.
Romy rolled her eyes, pupils finally distinct and reflecting the black sky above. “I’m sure they won’t hate you, Cordelia. What you’ve done is more so accidental manslaughter than actual first degree murder. Let dead dogs lie and let me explain — with how you’re reacting, something is bound to get lost in translation.” She waved Cora’s concerns away with a smokey silver hand, a slight shimmer dissipating into the air.
Samuel dropped Lena to the ground, her sobbing no longer audible and resigned to the stillness of the night.
He had no problems with signing, his movements abrupt and deliberate. “Cora, shut up. Ghost, whatever, keep talking.”
Cora didn’t know what to do, thoughts racing through her head at an alarming pace that made everything spin. She thought back to her former foster siblings, how she would have done anything to protect them. The same urge to protect overtook her — Lena’s body shuddering with silent sobs; Samuel’s stance grounded with his fists by his side and his jaw set in an almost enraged expression. How could she protect Lena and Samuel if she was the bad guy in the situation?
How could she stand to live with herself?
Cora fell down, landing on her bottom with an abrupt thud. Unable to think of anything, she curled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around herself. There was nothing she could say or sign that would help her.
Samuel and Lena would leave her.
“Don’t worry, Cordelia.” Romy said, her haunted voice carrying across the landscape — Cora wasn’t looking at her, though. Instead, her gaze was trained solely on Lena and Samuel. Lena stood with her bottom lip quivering, gaze twisting from Romy to Cora without any clear destination to land on. Within a split second, however, she geared to bolt, making it only two steps before Samuel snatched the back of her Disney princess blanket.
Lena cried out, “Get off!” She flailed her arms, grasping at the knot around her neck before finally giving up and burying her head into Samuel’s side.
“Wait,” he spoke, using his voice for the first time since Cora had known him — it was deeper than expected, although choked. He had given up his tight grip on Lena’s blanket, accepting her hug around his waist and petting her wild blond hair. His sight wasn’t trained on her, however, instead directly pointed at Romy with an unwavering resolve.
“This may be where you go when you die, but you’re not dead yet — seems that the girl fell down a portal, Cordelia went after her, and that you followed. Being down here isn’t great for the living, though.” Romy said, her voice twisting the word “great” through a different octave of hum. “I can’t say how soon exactly that you’ll die, but you won’t be much more than a husk if you’re down here more than a month.”
Samuel’s mouth hung open. If there were any bugs around, then Cora would have worried about him catching one in his mouth — except, the underworld seemed permeated by an eerie stillness and silence that no other place could match. “Murder,” he signed, his right hand forming a knife that violently dug in below his flat, angled left hand. “Explain.”
“Your friend here — Cordelia — is a grim reaper in training. Or, perhaps a defective grim reaper? Regardless, she’s supposed to learn how to lead souls to the underworld. Don’t worry, not your souls. You’re a tad too… lively to die.”
Cora unlocked her arms, pulling herself to her feet. Clarity washed over her in a borrowed facade. She felt tears dribble down her cheeks and off her chin, but she could barely register even having started to cry. “Your explanation isn’t good enough,” she signed, finally looking away from Samuel and turning to Romy.
“Hmm? Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” A small smile played on Romy’s lips. “Repeat yourself?”
“Your explanation isn’t good enough.”
“By all means, take over, Cordelia. Don’t know how you’re going to give info any better than I can — you don’t even know half of what there is to being a grim reaper — you haven't even visited the underworld before.”
“I can explain myself.”
Romy shrugged. “Fine by me.”
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