Only for her Aunt to pull her into a massive, hug, uncaring about the awkwardness of it in very sense.
“Auntie~!” Calypso invoked a jovial cadence to her hollow words. “It’s been too long…”
“That it has, sweetie…” Artemis, like her mother, had a very weird and croaky vocal tone, but hers was more rough, stringy, she made it fit her overall personality.
As Artemis ceased the hug, resting her hands on Calypso’s shoulders, the girl had a better look of what she wore. Wolly plaid shirt, with a black tee under it, with jeans and boots. So virtually the same ever since Calypso last saw her, which was 3 years ago. She tied her head back as well, dirty blonde into a ponytail. Sporting grey eyes as well, behind her squinting disposition with crow’s-feet.
“Just know that it wasn’t your fault—” Artemis lightly shook her head. “And it wasn’t Penny’s fault, you were both stressed, it happens, all you need was a bit of space and to cool off, just don’t hold any of this against her, y’know--?”
“No no…” Calypso looked down, actually guilt-ridden. “Either way, I st—I still did it, and have to live with that… I’m grateful that I wasn’t sent to some mental institution and that shows that she does care about me. I was wrong, and I’m sorry.”
Calypso felt a massive mitt pat at her head, to see her strapping Uncle right next to his wife, aiding in the consoling.
“Either way, there’s no need to be so formal about simply comin’ home,” Bradley smiled, fully with his shining teeth. “You’re family, Calypso. We mess up, n’ we deal with it, n’ keep the bed warm~”
He was a tall and handsome man, with dark skin and curly short hair. It suited his large chin and high cheekbones, that complimented his genuine, warm smile. Right now, he was wearing a dress shirt + sweater vest combo, with black dress pants.
“You sayin’ all that and you’re dressed like you’re bein’ interviewed again by the news, Paw—” Sal snarked, popping open the trunk.
Uncle Bradley then used his large hand to pat at his chest, as if he’s dusting himself off. “Well, I need to look my best to convince a Grimes that I’m a good person—I had to it the first time, after all—”
“You keep talking like that and Cal’ll see firsthand how I run this realm,” Artemis teased good-naturedly.
“Y’know…” Calypso smiled a bit. “Always wondered where Sal gets her… Well, everything from. I often assumed that she’s the tyrant—and how wrong I was—”
“Well, depends if she finally decides to let me fall off the tractor or something,” Artemis smirked as she heard her daughter forcefully laugh out from afar. “It’s a family saying… ‘Laughter’s the easiest gift you can give someone’~”
“I like that… That philosophy…”
“Good,” Bradley patted Calypso’s head again. “Because you’re probably gonna hate these rules—”
Calypso was shocked, but instantly prepared for the worst. “Well, it’s your home after all… It doesn’t matter if I like them or not.”
“Man, if only me and Penny swapped kids or something growing up; you are such a dear, Cal—” Artemis then chuckled as Sal groaned from afar, as if it were music to her eyes. “But no, as much as we joke, it’s not a dictatorship…”
Artemis held up a finger, “1) No swearing in the house. Be creative in your words with anything else, but no cussing once you step into the threshold.”
Calypso blinked in disbelief, “Now I’m not the most swear-y person, but I’m a New Yorker, Auntie—”
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“And you’re a Reverian now, so we’re showing you the ropes for your own sake~” Artemis held up the following fingers as she counted on. “2) Help out when you can—while we’re not gonna force you to work out here because that’s much, but pitch in from time to time, especially if someone’s asking for extra hands. 3) Once it’s 10:00 PM, you’re in the house and in your room. Things come up and things happen, but leniency only works if you’re making your way back.”
“Be happy that it was recently amended from the original version; which was ‘Lights out at 10:00 PM’,” Bradley chuckled while crossing his arms.
“I don’t really have any latest technology on me and it’s not my style aways…” Calypso swayed her head lightly in thought. “But no light while reading would be much…”
Artemis chuckled in turn as she squeezed Calypso’s shoulders, “But yeah, follow those rules and it’s nothing but simple living here~ Sal can drive you to campus, or hey, don’t be afraid to ask to us to go into town and get you something. You’re comfortable and safe here, Cal. We’ll make sure of it.”
“There’s going to be sounds and bumps at the night, don’t you worry about hearin’ any of it…And hey, if there’s somethin’ more, best thing about farms are the shotguns hidden about it,” somehow Bradley made that statement feel thoughtful and jovial.
“But enough about what we’re gonna do next Saturday that rhymes with ‘Rooting Strange Cactus’—” Artemis laughed as she maneuvered around Calypso, wrapping her arm around her dear niece. “Let’s get ya’ unpackaged and under the sheets. The ride must’ve taken a lot outta ya’…”
She didn’t need to elaborate further for Calypso, the comment made her blood run cold. It questioned if her blood is even red anymore to begin with.
There is no sleep, no rest, until Calypso figured everything out.
***
All of the Folk And Their Strides, Tales of the Skinwalkers, and the Log of What Could Be Insane were strewn across Calypso’s new bed.
Her new room was yellow, and humble, and great—she even allowed herself to laugh at the coincidence of her room having the same relative position at her actual house, across from the bathroom down a long hall.
She was too busy on the verge of tearing her hair out. There was nothing to help Calypso in those books, and she was on the last one. The girl spent most of her issued funds in getting these things, and aside from being dusty paperweights, they only prod at Calypso’s heating up mind, not soothe it.
Old World Parables and Folklore—this had to be it, it had to be. Calypso tore through every page, skimming every line, pouring all attention into this tome.
At least one thing was clear with each page turn. It didn’t matter the block of text, the moral of the story, the description, verbiage: it all boiled to fearing the shadows that lived. Watch for the shade and pray that it didn’t stretch too far, be rid of it especially of one’s home from every single corner. Even if you heed the warnings, the moment you think your troubles are over… The knowledge of them alone can be a killer.
It sounded about right to Calypso, but none of the stories offered more useful information—only focusing on the madness of the post-encounters, or the aftermath of the grizzly tragedies. Not the complicated middle, like she was.
This was the point that Calypso’s hands shot up towards her already bed-tossed hair, ruffling her brown locks in a frenzy to keep from screaming or trashing her new room—which only had the briefcases sprawled all around.
But, the moment of insanity gave her a much needed thought—a bout of clarity. Flipping back towards the glossary, she searched for “skinwalkers” again, maybe this book would be a better lead than the others.
And much to her surprise, Calypso not only saw the page number, but the circle around it. Hazard, clearly a pen mark.
She shoved her fingers into the tome, wedging it open and making a mad dash towards the page. With each page number passed by acting as a countdown of sorts, her last resort, her last chance.
And what she found was not what she didn’t expect at all.
The bookstore they went to, it was already informal—if not treated with any form of respect at all. The books were just put back without organization, said books are weathered and neglected, and when it was said and done, Calypso had to pay as if they were mint. So seeing some writing in a book shouldn’t be surprising.
What was said rocked her to her core, as she read on:
“I DON’T KNOW HOW MUCH I HAVE
I THOUGHT I ESCAPED THE FOREST, BUT I NEVER LEFT
A VOICE THAT SOUNDS LIKE MINE IS TELLING ME TO DO THINGS I WAS NEVER CAPABLE OF YOU HAVE TO BLEA BELIEVE ME
WHEN YOU END ME, PLEASE, TAKE ME A PART SO YOU COULD UNDERSTAND WHAT HAPPENED, NO ONE CANT GO THROUGH THIS PLEASE
GOD BLESS GOD BLESS GOD BLESS GOD BLESS GOD BLESS GOD BLESS”
The writing was craved into the page, writing over the printed text.
With trembling hands and a mind finally overwhelmed, the tome collapsed out of her hands, only for Calypso to follow after.
***
***