> 7484

>

> I allowed them to talk for a while this morning, just to let them get it out of their systems. I imagine they could use a bit of mutual reassurance that they are who they are, or rather were, and a couple of hours at this stage isn't going to be long enough for them to start bringing up shared memories and working against the tea. After this morning, though, they'll need to stay quiet. Being together will help give them some comfort, in knowing they aren't alone, and will give me some non-destructive leverage to use in the threat of separating them, but talking is only going to lead to trouble – if not bringing up memories that should be forgotten, then by letting them make plans to rebel. They cooperated with being assigned tasks to do. I didn't warn them when I reactivated the silence trigger in the collars, just so they could get another reminder of what happens when they try. It usually doesn't take much for them to learn to just not talk rather than risk that. It's a rather brutal method, but unfortunately operant conditioning is not always as gentle as I might prefer.

>

> Later:

>

> They worked hard all day and accomplished quite a respectable amount. It would be rather convenient if at least one turns out to be a house fae that will actually be docile and cooperative this time, since everyone is happier when they have more leisure time and the housework is done more consistently. More leisure time for staff would actually be beneficial for the experiment, since it allows more opportunity for some to be in contact with the other fae. They've only had two doses of the tea and bread, the tried-and-true formula, but it shows every sign of beginning to work, since I've seen no hint of hysteria or rebellion. That's a huge relief. I hate it when they're frightened and crying and obviously suffering. The more I can minimize that, the better. I'll start tweaking the formula tomorrow. For the safety of all involved, I want this process complete as rapidly as possible.

Whatever a house fae is. Something like a brownie or a Russian domovoi, maybe. But what happened to the last one when they weren't docile and cooperative? Or more than one? Who was Marcy who needed to be replaced and what was her job? Where are all the other fae, if the island is at max capacity?

All this talk about needless cruelty and emotional distress and not wanting us to suffer, but it hasn't stopped her from being a part of stealing us from our homes and lives and families, and putting these fucking shock collars on us. Making us forget is supposed to be a merciful thing for us? That doesn't sound like they plan on ever letting us go.

> 7485

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> Largely peaceful today. Barry reported one incident in which Violet took offence at something he said, though he didn't specify what it was, only that it was a directive to go on to a different garden patch and get to work. Presumably it was something about the phrasing that set her off. Interestingly, Blue intervened, and Violet backed down. Barry still has two fingers in a splint thanks to her, despite all my efforts at accelerating healing. I may need to move that one to a different job to keep her away from Barry for the time being, it's too early. The kitchen, maybe, so Felix can keep an eye on her. I'd prefer to keep them in the same jobs, since keeping each day as much like the last as possible should help with increasing the dissociation from previous lives and minimize any sense of time passing, but a fight would disturb things worse, and one on one against a faeling even in first-phase, Barry could get badly injured or killed without contributing significantly to the experiment. As difficult as he sometimes is, he's useful and would be difficult to replace.

>

> I need to remind all four current staff again that the faelings are off-limits as sexual objects. The odds of a bastard child will be negligible for the next several months while they're in transition, but nonetheless, it is miscegenation bordering on bestiality—they are, after all, emphatically not human. Besides, that's hardly humane treatment. Still, if one of this lot turns out to be a succubus-type or siren-type, I might ask Phrixos to make certain she can't get pregnant and let them keep her. For a succubus-type, that would actually be less abusive than forcing her to be celibate. I suppose, unlike wizards, the staff do have physical needs and being isolated from the outer world for extended periods frustrates that. That might be a reasonable compromise and a reward-bonus for injuries as well, one that would have the additional benefit of allowing us to observe the results to compare to the last group and the succubus-type fire fae that the staff at the time called the Demon.

>

> Other than that, all goes smoothly. Given their cooperation and calmness in general, the new-formula tea and bread must be taking effect quite successfully in all seven, something to note for the future. They also appear to be adjusting quite well to the awakening of their fae blood and the associated changes. That's a relief, because seven frightened and angry faelings rebelling together could definitely become a problem. Not one that we couldn't handle, but it would probably require drastic steps that would be cruel and interfere with the research results and possibly lose us a rare opportunity.

JC hadn't known about Zach's altercation, but then, how would he have told them about it? At least Alison had the presence of mind to keep it from turning into a battle with the odds stacked heavily against Zach. What had Barry said? Quite possibly something derogatory and sexist, given what JC had heard in his brief encounters with him. Especially given the terrifying bit about warning the four employees off. Was she expecting her captives to come running to her if they were abused by her staff and she didn't see it?

Minimize the sense of time passing?

How long had they been here? JC counted back.

The second day, he'd covered for Suzi while she hid upstairs and cried, as quietly as she could; that was the same day he'd stolen the hairbrushes, finding the increasing tangles intolerable. The morning they'd woken up to find Des huddled in the corner of the bathroom and crying, unable to tell them what had triggered the sobs rocking his whole body more deeply than the sporadic bouts of tears they'd all had... JC was fairly sure that was the beginning of the third day. Later that day, Isabel had done some rearranging, sending both Des and Suzi outside with Alison, putting Zach in the kitchen with Erica, and leaving JC and Theo each to do their tasks alone, so it must have been the third day Des had been crying.

Today was the... fourth day of this?

He flipped ahead, past brief entries.

According to Isabel's journal, and assuming the numbers were in fact days somehow despite the insane period between the blackout and the kidnapping, this was the seventh full day they'd been here.

They'd lost track of time; the urgency of their wanting to be free and home had mellowed with unnatural speed to a kind of vague homesickness. He'd stopped questioning whether he should obey orders, had stopped resenting the change to his body. There was only work to concentrate on during the day, and plenty of it; overnight, there was time to clean up, to rinse out the clothing that dried as readily as his body, to eat, and to sleep in contact with as many of his friends as possible.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

It was even an effort at this point to visualize his friends looking any way other than they currently did.

They couldn't keep eating that bread. It had to stop, immediately. He wasn't sure what they'd survive on, but they'd have to come up with something. The thought of facing their current situation with nothing to dull the fear and despair was terrifying, but having their memories erased and everything they were rewritten was worse.

The last entry included speculative plans for what to do with them when they changed further in a few more days—plans that involved separating them into appropriate environments. He saw mention of water fae, green fae, house fae again.

Oh god, don't let them separate us!

Okay, I've been here way too long, I need to write this down so I can share it with the others and I need to get the hell out of here before I get caught!

Deeply unsettled, he searched the desk, found a pad of paper and ripped off a single sheet, laid it on the bare desk, and found a mechanical pencil. He scrawled the description of the bread hastily, along with the intent of tea and meat and silence, and how long it had been, and Isabel's evaluation that all was working. There was no time to try to explain her perception of them, and he wasn't sure how to summarize it anyway, but added We're lab rats, expect us to change more in a few more days, will probably separate us then, at the end.

Returning everything exactly to its place, he left the room, closing the door behind him. The sheet of paper he dampened in the sink and worked gently in his hands until it was soft as fabric and wouldn't have any protruding telltale corners, the pencil not smearing the way ink would have, and finally folded it and tucked it into his top, over one breast, hoping that the modification would be enough for it to stay in place and not slip free or drift into sight. He was pretty sure that if Isabel ever found out he had that information, there would be hell to pay.

Then he got back to work.

That evening, when Erica and Zach brought supper, JC held out a hand over the basket of bread and shook his head. That was all he had time for before Isabel came in.

“You've been doing a good job,” she told them. “Nestor and Phrixos and I are all very pleased with you, and the staff have all made comments about how nice it is to have clean rooms and better food than Felix can make for everyone alone. Well done. Eat your supper and go to bed.”

Once she was gone and they were sure she wasn't coming back, six pairs of bright-coloured eyes turned in JC's direction questioningly.

He fished the sheet of paper out into the light, unfolded it, and slid it along the table to Theo, who was closest. Theo shot him a sideways glance, but pulled it close enough to read.

Aqua-blue eyes widened in seconds, flickered to the bread, back down to the paper, as Theo caught his lower lip between his teeth.

Suzi all but grabbed it from him so she could see.

As the paper came all the way back around via Erica to JC, all seven regarded the basket of bread the way they might look at a snake of uncertain venom and temper.

It was Erica who stood up and took the basket into the bathroom, and Des went with her.

Theo, having half-filled one of the mugs with tea so they could pour it through all the others, took the kettle too, and Alison and Zach split the meat between them, ripping one chicken thigh for each into fragments that would fit down the toilet.

With bread, meat, and tea all safely flushed, they had only a thin supper of raw vegetables and water, but at least it wasn't going to screw around with mind or body.

Breakfast was worse, since they only dared to eat an apple apiece.

On one of JC's trips down to the laundry room off the kitchen, Theo smiled and produced a couple of carrots, minus the green tops, and four small red tomatoes from a hiding place inside one of the stone sinks. JC lingered there to eat them, and felt better when he left to start on the next room.

It was the trio working in the gardens, he realized, when on a later trip down Theo gave him a double handful of ripe strawberries. They were sneaking fresh clean food to the house for the quartet working there, maybe via Theo who was in and out of the house with baskets of wet and dry laundry.

At least they weren't going to starve.

They just had to hope they could survive the consequences if Isabel found out they were deceiving her.

Isabel visited them at supper again that evening.

“Leave the food for a moment,” she said, with a wave of her hand.

Ominously, JC felt the glassy cuffs tug towards each other, confining his wrists in front.

“You are, for the moment, free to talk. I want answers. Truthful ones. How long do you think you've been here?”

Oh no. Oh please, don't let her catch on now. Please, guys, please, stay quiet and let me answer, I read her journal, I think I can keep her happy.

Hot on the heels of the desperate silent plea came an odd certainty that his friends knew and understood and would trust him.

“A... a long time?” JC said hesitantly.

“Is this where you belong?”

“It's... it's where we are. We were somewhere else and different people before...” He kept his head bowed just enough to be submissive, but watched her reactions through his lashes. She shifted her weight, and began to frown. “But who we are now has only ever been here. Where else would we belong?”

She relaxed again. “You aren't thinking of anywhere else?”

“Anyone there thinks we're human. That's a different life.”

“How do you feel about being faeling? We should all find out what kinds of fae you are in a few more days.”

“We are what we are. We feel more right than when we thought we were human. Learning more about what we are has to be a good thing.”

“Do the rest of you agree with that? You all feel more or less the same?”

Six heads nodded prompt agreement.

An actual smile tugged at her lips. “Very good. All right, you can eat.”

The glassy cuffs released them as she left the building, the door snapping shut behind her.

“I...” JC said, and hunched in on himself as the searing pain from the collar hit. He felt arms slide around him from both sides, sympathy and support, and had a peculiar sense of his own rage at this latest petty trick being reflected back. Not in words, but he was certain he was picking up something that went beyond body language and contact.

Even if, right now, it amounted to, with you, love you, hate her, angry. Hardly a complex concept.

Obedient to the otherwise unanimous will, he stayed in his seat at the table, letting himself recover. Erica brought him a clean mug with fresh water from the bathroom, which helped. The others disposed of the tainted food, and returned to share the vegetables that were all that remained.

How long can we survive on this?

As long as we have to.

They cleaned up in the shower room, helping each other since all that long hair was turning out to be a nuisance, and settled down for the night.