Prisoners of Circumstance

The underground basement had hollow holes in its walls through which Pristine Maley could see the wooden planks that supported the rickety structure from within. She knocks against a plank with her knuckles, checking if the thing was sturdy enough to hold her hostage.

"Hickory wood..." Pristine mumbles, feeling the texture of the wood, after sniffing it, "I hope they planted as much as they used," Pristine sighs to herself.

She looks around, for the places that weren't hollow holes had chunks of fungus and alage gaurding it. A sad lightbulb hung from the titled roof being forced to light up the room even on its death bed.

There's nothing else there to entertain herself with so Pristine decides to take the matters in her own hands. She rubs her palms together and a silver bubble of synergy surrounds them.

The girl stands tipping on her toes and holds the bulb between her palms when—

The basement door creaks open. Pristine hastily plops her butt over her hands.

In walks the most elegant ravenette Pristine ever had the chance of witnessing so close. Someone forces the door shut behind her and Pristine flinches at the impact. The girl walks down the creaking excuse of a staircase, unbothered, draped in a silken robe with her raven curls kissing her shoulders.

"Are you an influencer?" Pristine speaks up as the girl places herself on the planked surface of the basement.

"What's an influencer?" the girl cross-questions.

"So you aren't one," Pristine nods to herself. "Such a waste of that beautiful face. Do you want to be one?" She squeaks again, running up to sit beside her, leaving no personal space.

The girl stares at Pristine with her electric eyes withholding confusion, "Who are you?" she questions after much contemplation.

Pristine is too enthusiastic to answer.

"I am Pristine Maley, a fourth generation artificial vampire. My father's first and quite probably last successful experiment."

She is proud of herself, proud of her name, her existence, proud of everything she is and it shows in the satisfied smile she holds between her dimples.

"Ah, from the Toril and Marlin case. I've been researching that," the girl replies, looking anywhere but in Pristine Maley's bewitching hazel eyes. "Are you a Hostage?"

"I prefer being called a mistreated guest, thank you," Pristine smiles.

"Don't you want to escape? I'm sure it won't be a chore for someone as powerful as you," the girl asks suggestively.

Pristine scoffs at that. "Are you investigating me?"

The girl smiles at Pristine and it's a kind push on the apples of her cheeks. But her words have an undertone of lingering motives, "Why, do you happen to have skeletons in your closet?" she whispers. Her electric eyes stare within Pristine's hazel ones, prying.

"My closet has clothes all right," Pristine's reply was chip and firm. The ravenette sniffs around, inhaling Pristine's fear laced scent. It is spiked with anxiety and concern.

"You are scared."

"You can say that for yourself," Pristine scoffs.

The ravenette feels the little girl's hand over hers. Her eyes widen, horrified, she witnesses a white light shining underneath Pristine's palm that made her hand shrink, in age, growing smaller and younger. De-aging.

The ravenette jerks Pristine's hand away from hers, blue eyes widened in mortification. She flails her hand around, shaking it in the air for the magic to wear off and normalcy to take over. The ravenette could feel her nerves tingling within, she could feel her synapses relaying the sensations within. Her hand looked as good as new.

A dead stare at Pristine's smug stance had her convinced that the little child was a demon alright.

"Name?" the younger one asks.

"Estella Crowne," the older replies, holding her magicked hand possessively against her chest, electric eyes scrutinizing the child's small form.

Nothing about Pristine Maley's physical form was average as considered from a shapeshifter's perspective. The girl was beyond human beauty and possessed inexplicable supernatural capabilities. Estella eyes her like the limitless chest of knowledge that Pristine Maley was.

Pristine Maley was a quest Estella Crowne would willingly accomplish regardless of the unknown consequences which would follow.

"A werewolf?" Pristine question, tone almost rhetorical.

Estella denies. "I am a shapeshifter. Werewolves are purebred and only exist among the Royal bloods."

Pristine nods, standing up to walk around the small perimeter of the room. "I've heard about the Extinction. Your princely race is dying out." A strange glint of knowledge shines in Pristine's youthful eyes.

Estella is hungry for that knowledge. She wants to acquire it.

"Vampires love werewolf blood," Estella voices, baring her neck to Pristine and taps her artery. "Sucked our whole race dry."

"Hence you working on the Toril and Marlin project." Pristine concludes.

"You're smart." Estella concludes.

"I have my way with everyone—" Pristine was about to snobbishly end when a flashback from the night before has her eyes rolling. "Except for one person."

Edith Chamber's stubborn and scowling face graces Pristine's vision and the girl sighs.

"But she isn't the sanest sock so that doesn't count."

Just then the door to basement opens once again. Estella and Pristine crane their necks to look up. A shout of, "You wish you had wits enough to entertain me!" is followed by the lanky form of Edith Chambers gracing their presence, stumbling to a standstill, before the door is closed again in a split second.

Estella's eyes shine with the light of acquaintance and Pristine rolls her in disdain.

"Missed me?" Edith waves, not bothering to come down but slumping right there, against the door.

"Took your sweet time, you did," Pristine grumbles.

"Oh, you're alive," Edith breaths acknowledgment, too tired to care.

"Least of your concerns, I bet."

"Least of yours as well, I bet," Edith points at all the algae residing with them.

"The fact that in your deterministic world one of these alage exist just to provide you oxygen is sad. You should promptly apologize for all this undeserving treatment," Pristine retorts in a matter-of-fact tone.

"The fact that you breathe the same air as me is exhausting, child, sush."

"At least I have the heart to care," Pristine scoffs out a reply.

"At least I can pay my bills."

"Excuse yourself for being old, wallflower."

Edith breaths deep for another sharp retort to hurl out of her tongue but Estella stands up, announcing her presence and deflecting the unnecessary debate.

"Ello, I'm Estella!" the ravenette exclaims excitedly only to receive an uninterested frown from the person sitting above.

Edith roofs her eyes with her hand and pretends to look around. "Any askers? I see none."

Estella stands unaffected for she was unaware of this humor.

Pristine chokes a laugh and mumbles out, "Rude," instead.

"Newsflash," Edith replies with a frigid smile. She looks down at Pristine's constipated effort at hiding her grin and almost laughs herself.

Estella, desperately wanting to participate in the conversation, voices out, "I apologize I don't understand."

"Boohoo," Edith scoffs, finally shifting ahead and clutching the wooden staircase to look down at the person talking. She's beautiful, Edith concludes. Almost everyone around her was.

But a strange sensation of familiarity irked her gut.

"Ignore her, she's as irrelevant as a sock on a beach," Pristine waves her off.

"No, we are acquaintances," Estella explains, fingers dancing between her and the blonde's frame.

"Are we?" Edith questions with genuine curiosity. The ravenette's expectant electric eyes and wondering eyebrows weigh an intangible burden on Edith's shoulders.

"We met this morning," Estella speaks like announcing the rain while standing under it.

Edith narrows an eye at Estella, unsure yet suspicious. "You playin' me? I met no ladies this morning, unless you have some Ranma shit going on with you." The blonde snorts haughtily.

"What's Ranma?" Pristine questions simultaneous to Estella's, "Who's Ranma?"

"You were all bred under rocks, you cannot convince me otherwise," Edith claps in front of her face and gives up on explanation.

"I was created in a laboratory," Pristine replies promptly, tone laced with pride in her existence.

"Yeah and I was sent down from heavens in a stork basket," Edith counters.

"No you weren't, I've read Human Biology and your—"

"Shut up Pristine."

"My parents took a vow in front of the Moon Goddess and then she blessed them with me," Estella announces to the bickering crowd, tone too convincingly innocent for a statement that unconventional.

Pristine, who was going to snap at Edith for cutting her off mid-sentence, let's out a, "What in the name of Holy Earth are you on?"

Edith, looking equally baffled and entirely defeated by the situations she was being thrusted in since last night, calmly questions, "Lass, did someone give you a pill this morning? Nod for yes, do anything else for No."

Estella shakes her head in response.

Edith does not believe it.

"Why do you think we met today?" Edith questions again.

"It's because we did. You said you fell in love with me."

Pristine, who has now taken a corner of the basement, sucks in an amused breath. Nevertheless, she chatters away throwing her opinion out Just Because, "Woah, that was too quick to be real. Estella, don't believe her. First love incited by physical appearances is fake and wears off as the appearance does."

"Sh, Pristine, it was a figure of speech," Estella calmly replies.

"Just like 'I do' and 'let us have a divorce'!" Pristine aptly retorts.

"It's not that deep," Estella chides.

"With her, you never know!" Pristine points accusingly at the blonde in question— Who is now leaning against the door with a blank expression painting her face.

'Ha. Ha. Ha.'

Goes Edith's mind.

'We got a job. We met a fucking brat. We got kidnapped. We met a pervert. We met a Jerk. We met a wolf. The wolf said it was a human. Ha. Ha. Ha. This hasn't even been a day. DID SOMEONE GIVE ME A LINE?!'

As an internal battles rages in Edith's head where her Consciousness is battling against Logic, Edith logs off from reality— because let's be fair, at this point, she could barely comprehend her situation to classify into fiction, high or dream. Or maybe all of the above.

"Do you think she's dead?" Pristine question, words barely a whisper but loud enough for Estella to hear them across the basement.

"Why sweet Selene mercy, she did get trashed around a lot this morning. Do humans hurt easy?" Estella questions in alarm as waves of unwanted realization wash over her.

"Very," was Pristine's monosyllabic reply as she got up. The duo rush to Edith's side in a speed incomprehensible to human eye.

Pristine waves a hand in front of Edith's eyes and Estella promptly copies her knowledgeable junior.

"I think we're forgetting a primary concern," Edith voices out in a dim baritone. "We're kidnapped."

"You're kidnapped. I'm a guest and she's whatever she is here for," Pristine corrects the human in their presence. Two pairs of eyes stare at Estella for answers.

"I farted on the Prince's face in the name of revenge," Estella confesses casually.

Pristine shifts three pushes behind, not wanting to be within a hand's distance of someone who'd fart on her if it ever came to settling scores. Her eyebrows droop in concern. Pretty faces make horrible decisions.

Edith leaps up, cupping Estella's heart-shaped face between her palms. Her brown eyes widen with a multitude of questions wrecking a hurricane within, "Are you really saying that you were the wolf this morning?" was one of them.

Estella nods somberly.

Edith turns to Pristine for support. Maybe they could collectively diagnose Estella with some disorder or something. Or maybe she could diagnose Edith with something. Anything. A word of reassurance would be enough to settle the nauseating pit of confusion choking her insides.

Unfortunately, Pristine just shrugged by herself. "She's a Shapeshifter, you know," the youngest clarifies.

Edith nods, pulling her hands away from Estella and standing up. They're mad. She's mad. Loneliness has got her. She's demented. She has created a world within her head and trapped herself within its confines. Watching too much anime has got her.

Edith limps her way down the stairs, stumbling for her feet were bruised. She finds a spot in a wall thoroughly buried under algae. She hits her head repeatedly against it.

"Get up. Get up. Get up Edith Chambers, Get the fuck up!!"