The celestial being yawned, once more. As they crossed their legs on top of a pillar of fate, crafted from the heavens itself, it all still felt… Uncomfortable.
Regardless. They let the bell toll, as they rang the heavy, silver translucent construct in their tiny hand. Watching one by one, their audience build and build with every chime.
And yet. All of them still so small, in the end.
“This is a proceeding, conducted and carried out by the eminence of the Fates That Be… And one of these Fates before you is deemed Skylark,” Skylark then yawned, once again. “I, Skylark, will decide upon the fates of all present. Always and forever.”
A final ring of the bell, echoed throughout the ethereal halls of the skies.
The gong resonated so heavily, Skylark felt the trembling of each of their souls. The sensation managed to inject some level of excitement in them.
Skylark let their head hang to the right. The bound Vampire… Abomination, that was bound in the shining light.
“On my right, Cassandra Whitley Morgan—the 567th Terrorizer of her legacy, and the 3rd that might have succeeded, lest the proceedings say otherwise.”
And Skylark pointed toward the crowd of humans, feeling their spikes of fear all at once. “And before me, Willow Reverie who has the burden of not only knowing of the darkness—but had to survive such for many days and many nights… And…”
Skylark sighed, letting their pale hair hang down—yet their paperboy’s hat still planted on top of the head.
“I apologize for my… discourteousness. Discourtesy?” Skylark shook their head. “I don’t know why I’m doing this… Performance for you. I know who summoned me. I know that the person who summoned me did so purposefully. Due to my… Well, my fellow celestial judges are not only more seasoned but more caring about their roles and statures.”
Skylark leaned back, as if their pillar of cloud had a back to it. They then gestured at the crowd. “Just reveal yourself so we can begin this trainwreck.”
Richard Mittleman, age 19, rose his finger up in the air.
“Before we proceed…” the boy tried so hard, to mask his voice. “Is there a way to mask my appearance, other than the cloak of the shade, that you have so graciously allowed me to keep…?”
Another hand rose, barely reaching above the crowd.
A hand belonging to Calypso Grimes, 18. Made… A series of threats and declarations against Skylark and their kind.
“That goes for us, as well…” an even poorer attempt to make one’s voice gravely. “But for us… Maybe allow us to transform again? I’m sure it’s still night in… O-our reality…”
Skylark sighed.
And with their heavy fingers, the building energy physically weighed them, and proceeded to snap.
Each of their respective wishes was granted, in a pale, blue light.
Richard felt his now-masked face. Simple, operatic—a white face that was frozen in mock horror. Skylark was impressed how the boy immediately felt for a seam between the mask and his flesh—to check if there was some twist of fate where his face IS a mask. Confirming that it isn’t the case.
Calypso and her cohorts found themselves transformed into Consumed once more—causing the crowd to be startled before settling. All except her cousin, who was frankly too confused and enraged to move—focusing her gaze on the entire crowd.
But both Richard and Calypso not only visibly, but emotionally relaxed once their wishes were granted. It seemed that they prefer the darkness, more than the humans present here.
“No monkey’s paw or literal interpretations… We truly are in your mercy, then.”
Martha Mittleman made herself known by stepping forward, arms crossed in her big suit. Even with a smile plastered on her dainty face, it was clear that she was frustrated. Not just at the situation.
Skylark just shrugged. “I’m not really in the mood to properly do my job. What, with the unannounced summons and all. Let this be both a warning and setting the tone for this proceeding—”
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“WHY’RE WE ACTIN’ LIKE THIS IS SOMETHIN’ NORMAL?!”
“Sal” Grimes stomped her foot, her arms wailing as Natalie Noel and Gale Pratchett made way for her tantrum. Skylark only sighed harder and sunk deeper in their non-existent chair.
“Maybe this is all hunky-dory in y’all sense of reality—but I’m suddenly in heaven after learnin’ that every single adult I know was all in it—knowin’ that this place is basically hell!”
Sal proceeded to point out, “I already had to accept my own flesh n’ blood keepin’ this from me—but really?! Martha-fuckin’-Mittleman?! Old Man Paul?! Even Major Huntington basically covered up murders for how long--?!”
“Woah woah woah!” the “Mayor” responded in kind. “This isn’t all me—I went to college and aced my classes to run for office with little to no breaks or a life; they happily handed me the key while whispering in my ear—‘hey, guess what? All those bedtime stories and horror movies are real and contribute to 99% of the murders here—but you have to hide it! Ask surpriiiised--!”
“If we please return to the matter at hand before the Honored snap their fingers and spirit all of us away?”
Isabella Moses was at the center of the crowd, still bound to her wheelchair. Appearing composed, but eternally writhing in flames. Skylark noted a few possibilities, but didn’t care to narrow down the prime one.
She gestured toward the celestial judge, “Now. As you please, Honored one.”
Skylark made a non-committal grunt. They then gestured toward Richard once more.
“Now then…” Richard stepped forward, right beside his mother… Giving him the iciest of looks trying to maintain her décor. “I’ve summoned you, Honorable Skylark of the Fates That Be, to point out numerous discrepancies of Cassie Morgan’s Terrortide. 1) the conditions of building to the Foundation Festival were not met, despite it happening on the day it was supposed to be. 2) her influence didn’t reach outside of Willow Reverie—the rampage was at least subverted for a time before you made your presence known. And 3) the sheer amount of debt she still owes would’ve rendered the struggle null and void the moment she achieved anything—regardless of her… Experiment.”
“Very astute observations, young one…” Skylark shrugged but gestured toward the trapped Vampire. “But in the interest of fairness, this… ‘Wrinkle’ afforded many new possibilities, possibilities that seem… Promising, to keep it vague.”
Skylark looked down upon the crowd, with their judgment. “And despite the many limitations, they ultimately have bolstered her actions and agenda. The fact that she managed to do so much damage… It is still commendable, once you put it in this light. More so, since there are many dead from this rampage. If you’re doing this, to simply undo this damage, then this conversation is over--”
“At least on our side…” Richard shivered at his mother still staring at him, feeling her disapproval. “We’re willing to pledge to not use our services on the people that passed during this event. If this need be a total reset, then we shall respect it—"
“—To which, I will at least counter that Cassie’s idea of status quo leaves no productive possibilities for you all,” Martha butted into the conversation, with a small hand raised. “If anything, it’s pure stagnation—no declarations or change that make things interesting. At least until someone else who manages to become a new Terrorizer and has to change the script anywho—so what’s there to argue, haha--?”
“True,” Skylark leaned into their fist with their cheek. “However, we’re willing to wait, how many eons that shapes up to be. And if we feel bored in the meantime, then sure, we’ll try to pluck and influence things here and there to keep things motivated. If anything, such extreme, barren conditions could breed much more intense figures and fates for us to review. Bit boring, but it’s work, I guess.”
“If I may be so bold…” Calypso Grimes added more depth to her already altered voice, in some semblance to disguise herself in plain sight for some reason. “We, my coven and I… We still subverted her point. We saved what we could. We proved that despite being monsters deep down inside, to the point it is in our DNA, there is kindness. Selflessness. Dare I say heroism, on what was supposed to be the ultimate proof of depravity in all life. Surely… That means something… Your…. Honorable Fates?”
Skylark can sense the resentment bubbling beneath the surface of her perfectly articulated words. She hated the fact that she has to show respect to the celestial being. Her throat had to force down the various questions, accusations, and outright venomous threats she wanted to say instead.
“And to add,” which Calypso did, “I was more than prepared to follow through with my declaration to your… Kind. I had to save these people. I had to stop this… Abomination from her hypocritical ideals of catharsis and payback. That is all.”
Despite the internal turmoil happening within her, despite the tangible hint of fear… Skylark did sense that she’s willing to do so.
“It seems that my protégé added yet another wrinkle in this dispute…” Isabella regained her fire, willing to smirk as she continued to praise Calypso. “Meaning that both of our efforts were rendered void at the same time. Surely that can’t add up to anything…?
They sighed. Loudly.
“I really wished you all would’ve took your chances with my brethren…” Skylark let their hand slide down their young face. “They would’ve made this quick and called it a day. I have to come up with a status quo that’s a complete and utter compromise between all of you, so no one prospers…”
The “Mayor” felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, as Skylark’s glare snapped towards him.
“You. Say a constructive date for this Founding Festival.”
“M-maybe two weeks from now—o-on the 24th—”
“There,” Skylark adjusted themselves on their pillar. Pointing at everyone present.
“Cassie Morgan’s Terrortidings have been reset. She has until the 24th of December to finalize her vow and be judged accordingly. The deaths that occurred only on this night, have been reset. However, Willow Reverie—whoever steps foot on this cursed soil, is more likely to become intertwined with the supernatural and accrue inner darkness the more they’ve encountered said supernatural. Information learned on this night will not only be retained but will also cause accruing of inner darkness if one fixates on such.”
With each ring of their bell, Skylark’s visage was consumed by a blinding light.
“Such. Is. Fate.”