꧁𓊈* (-) *𓊉꧂
Written on 9/12/2023
(Y/n) sat on the corner of the long, dark wood desk picking at her claw-like nails. Beside her a man sat awkwardly in his seat, his hands folded in his lap neatly and a short, black top hat sitting in front of him on the smooth surface. A heavy, nearly threatening silence settled between the girl and the taller bearded man who tried to look everywhere but the inhuman before himself. A frown nested upon her low-turned lips and she thought over his words, mauling them over in her head with well hidden amusement.
"So, you won't follow through, then?" She asked finally, coldly, to the man who fiddled with his fingertips. Abraham reminded her of a child like this, he looked and acted the diplomatic part of president but behind closed doors and under (Y/n)'s shadow, he was a nervous idiot. Although she looked angry from the outside eyes of the 56-year-old, she had actually seen a high likelihood of this outcome. She and Bill had asked of him something that went against everything he knew and supported for his placement in the Whitehouse as a joke, and it looked like she had won the bet against the dreamon. He had said he would give in, corrupt with power and drunk on greed, but the (h/c) knew better.
"No, I am sorry. I cannot follow through with your demand," he answered back to her inquiry, steeling himself and looking at her in the eyes. Her (e/c) gaze was icey and unforgiving, an angry underlying crimson shining from the edges of her cat-ish pupil as they battled to dominate his own.
"Can not, or will not," she demanded firmly, watching the shell of protective confidence begin to chip under her abrasive nature.
"Will not," he confirmed, nodding stiffly to himself and swallowing the stone that formed in his throat. He had been dreading this conversation for a while now, lying awake at night in fear of seeing the one-eyed demon again in his dreams as he did when he was a boy. He was offered a way to make his dreams come true, a way to make America better for everyone, but the small demand given to him was now larger than it had once been. Who in their right mind would openly tell the public monsters existed? It seemed small from the outside but now that the time to make the announcement was coming to fruitation, he could only imagine the fear and panic and fighting it would cause. "Now leave. You have no authority here anymore."
(Y/n) hummed shortly and stood up, pushing off the smooth desk. "The deal isn't over until we say it is, Aberham Lincon," she responded firmly hearing the cock of a gun behind her. The girl turned to look over her shoulder and noticed a small group of six armed men in suits pointing their iron barrels toward her figure.
"Ms. (L/n), you're under arrest for breaking and entering, assault of several armed guards, and threatening our president. You will come with us quietly or die where you stand," Aberham announced, standing up from his own seat as well. He tucked his hands behind his back and stepped to the side of the room away from the conflict and the girl frowned.
"No gun, Mr. President?" She asked and he shook his head.
"I rather keep the peace," he responded as the men along the wall approached to take her away. "Your partner isn't here to help you this time. I learned that he's basically helpless, actually. Stuck on the other side of the wall." With that, (Y/n) caught onto what had happened between the older man and his guards.
"Ah, I see what you did," she muttered to the man as he placed his top hat upon his crown. "You told them a person was harassing and threatening you without revealing what you did. Smart, Lincon. But you're wrong." The armed people got closer and reached for her wrists, shoving them harshly behind her back. The rays of morning light warmed her skin through the white house's office windows as she was pressed against the top of his desk.
"Am I? I bet he would have stepped in by now with you about to be taken away to prison. Or you'd at least put up a fight," he echoed, running a hand down his face. "Your threats were hallow and in search of power, I get it now. You were using fear to control me."
"Don't try getting smart on me now," (Y/n) answered into the desk, her cheek pressed against it. "You and I both know that you can't leave me alive after what I know and can do." Lincon frowned.
"I was trying to spare your feelings but yeah," he confirmed and the girl chuckled under the arm pressed deeply in her back, using a pair of handcuffs on her wrists. "Well, there you go, Cipher. The answer to our bet." A faint, ghastly laugh echoed around the room and a sigh followed, (Y/n)'s figure erupting into blue flames. The people on her let go quickly to save their flesh from the burning fire, cobalt dancing across her shoulders and clinging to her back.
"Well done, Zodiac. I admit my loss," Bill answered with a laughing tone. The iron on her wrists melted away and plopped to the floor, hot black tarnishing the smooth polished wood. Bullets started to fire and (Y/n) bolted toward the armed people, the group on the ground before their ammo even hit the wall. The bullets stopped in the air and dropped to the floor with a flick of (Y/n)'s wrist, the half dozen people bleeding out at her feet, their heads bent at awkward angles and grossly limp, bones threatening to poke out through their flesh. "Peace, huh? If you had just listened and did as you were told, they would still be alive."
She turned toward the petrified man with a sharp gaze, one yellow and the other (e/c). She pointed at the man and a clawed finger aimed at his face. "I will spare your mind as you tried for me, Lincon. You will live for six days in mourning for the lives you ruined today for your own selfishness. On the seventh day you will die to one of these very bullets shot to the back of the head. On the day of April 15th, you will be cursed to roam these halls as a ghost for the rest of your eternal afterlife until long after the Whitehouse falls." She closed her fist and opened it to reveal an iron musket in her palm, the declaration for his death. The loud, echoing laughter of Bill circled the room and the man dropped to his knees, crawling to grab at one of (Y/n)'s legs.
"Please don't do this, I haven't even started to change this country yet! I had so many dreams and hopes. I'll tell them all that you exist, I'll tell the world! Please don't kill me, not yet," he pleaded and (Y/n) simply turned away.
"See you in a week, Mr. President," she answered curtly, stepping oner the bodies at the door. The knock clicked at the plank shut and Aberham half lay on the door with a choked sob, his hand over his mouth in the deafening silence.
꧁𓊈* (-) *𓊉꧂
(Y/n) bumped in the seat as Mabel's car hit another pothole in the black concreate. Around them, the town looked baren and strange, each house with a strange symbol over the door and windows like an eye in shape. It was... eerie. The two of them were driving to a party currently for the Fourth of July. Mabel had, of course, dressed all out in a blue sparkly dress, matching shoes, red lipstick, and absolutely covered in silver body glitter. She had convinced her friend to wear a shade of bloody red over her lips as well that she had borrowed from the twin, dressed the rest of the way in black and other dark colors.
"I can't believe it's already been two and a half months since we met, (N/n)!" the girl exclaimed happily, trying to make conversation for the first time since they got in the car about five minutes ago. The (h/c) hummed in response, her black party dress doing little to protect her skin from the slightly fridged night air, cooling the surface under a thin layer of fabric.
"Yeah, time flies, right?" She echoed back, her mind rejoining reality slowly from her daydreaming. She had been thinking about the memory she had been given last night, her mind reeling at the thought that she was the uncaught killer of the 16th president of the United States, that she had been inside of that theatre with the bullet in her hand when he had thrown it through the back of the 56-year-old's head back in 1865. Her eyes trailed down to her palm in her lap, the same one that had held the item that took his life. She could imagine the weight and size, the cold iron against warm flesh. She was the unknown wanted criminal in an unsolved murder case, even if it had recently been announced solved, she knew it was just a cover up. What bothered her the most, though, was that between them getting to the States and that day, bill had lost his physical body as he had said he had in the past. He was it had been trapped in another world, another plane of existence, until he was unleashed again only a few years ago. It made her wonder what had happened to him.
"Yeah it does. I wish it was under better circumstances, you know, but better now than never, right?" Mabel chirped. "I'm happy to see that they're still celebrating the 4th after what happened."
"That's because it's hosted by a bunch of teenagers, Mabes. They aren't afraid of anything," (Y/n) pointed out, the multicolored lights from the party coming into view, bouncing off of the treetops ahead. "You would know, you somehow convinced Stanford to let me go with you."
The girl giggled. "Who said anything about me having told him, bestie? He told me to watch you and that's what I'm doing! he never said it had to just be at the house." To this the (e/c) eyed girl nearly sputtered and turned to the twin so fast she gave herself whiplash. Her eyes were wide and her mouth agape with amusement, jaw slack and her lips pulled upward around her jaws.
"Oh my god, no way," (Y/n) gasped as the girl laughed. "I didn't know you were that conniving, Mabel! You've been hanging around me too long!" She slapped her knee lightly and threw her head back with a laugh, squeezing her eyes shut as she thought of the no doubted-ly sass-filled conversation the two of them were going to give when Ford found out that she was missing.
"What made you do something like this? It seems weirdly sly for you," the girl in black asked, airily chuckling to herself and putting a hand on Mabel's. The brunette squeezed it back.
"No one should live in fear like that, locked up in their room on a holiday. It should be home, not a prison, you know?" The car fell into a comfortable quiet again and instead of returning to the dream she had ben given, her mind trailed to something Mabel had told her a few days ago right after Bill had chased her the first time. They had spent much of the night with one another talking, the female twin sobbing into (Y/n)'s arms about something that had happened while they had been on the way to bring her home. From what she had gathered between heartbroken sobs, Dipper had ran upstairs and grabbed his journals to keep safe, leaving Mabel behind. When she had followed him down the steps and out to the car, trying to figure out what the rush was, he told her that she could fight for herself.
While they were sure he meant that she could defend herself and the books couldn't, the end result was nonetheless a harsh jab to his twin's heart. In addition to things foretold that night, Ford has been keeping a closer eye on Dipper as of his warning. When the being in yellow had warned them of a traitor, the older man had been quick to put together the line he said to the boy at the ball that he had been told about: 'you're the reason I'm here' and all of that. There was clearly more to it than he was saying aloud under his breath. Fuck that metal implant blocking her mind from his.
As the car came to a stop in the street in front of the party house, the two stepped out onto discordant gravel under their shoes. (Y/n) looked up at the house in question and heard the loud music and clinking glasses from here, cringing slightly to herself. She waited for Mabel to come around before stopping her, grabbing her my the wrist lightly and looking at her worriedly. "Hey, do you mind if I ask you something a little weird?" The girl asked and the twin stopped, the two standing side by side in front of the car's hood.
"Go ahead, silly," the brown eyed girl chirped, taking a moment to refresh the red lipstick on her lips by pulling the container from her small handbag.
"Do you remember the other night? You said you hate what the Books were doing to your family, getting in the way of siblings again like they had Stanford and Stanley," she started, the girl in blue stiffening.
"Mhm?" she answered slowly, tucking the black and silver item away and looking fully toward the woman in question. Deep down, (Y/n) hoped that she could get Mabel to help her destroy the journals for her and maybe get the girl to do a deed to aid Bill's plan to weaken Dipper's link. She was one of his biggest weaknesses, after all, and if she got to the books, he's have to pick between the two. She'd either be taking out Mabel, or the legacy Ford left behind. She couldn't lose here.
"If you could get rid of the Journals altogether, would you?" the (h/c) asked, watching the female in blue think it over for a moment. Her mind reeled at the question and fought back the answer (Y/n) knew was forming on her tongue. Her eyes searched the others before she turned and started to head toward the party.
"I don't know," she replied, but Zodiac knew it was a lie. She didn't want to admit that she would if she was given the option.
After entering the small, two-story house party of some teen's poor absent parents, (Y/n) found that the event wasn't quite as bad as she though it would be. She found a corner and stayed there for a long while, watching and listening to the loud gossip and music around her. Someone had brought canned beer for some underage drinking and she had swiped several of them. She'd lost track exactly how many she had drank but she did know that she had enough to be weirdly dizzy. It was like her body was sluggish and clumsy in acting as she told it to, but aware enough to hardly notice. She apparently didn't like being buzzed in a place she hardly knew, standing around people she couldn't trust. If she was with Bill she was sure he'd find it funny and maybe she'd be included to embrace the relaxation and warmth the alcohol brought. But she wasn't, though that didn't stop her. It was the only think keeping the party somewhat interesting at this point. She could hear someone (or rather someones) upstairs having fun in one of the bedrooms from here and she was sure some of the other couples that dipped early had the same idea.
As the night dragged on, (y/n) found herself running out of things to think about. Her mind had wandered everywhere from her next target on her list to the spiked punch beside her smelling more like wine now than any sort of fruit juice it had been intended to be. And with that in mind, she was shocked for her eyes to lay upon the familiar back of the head belonging to Sung. She muttered under her breath and tried to scoot along the wall and out of his sight before he could find her, really not wanting to deal with him or his cult tonight, especially since she was half drunken into sleep. She was sloppy, though, and eventually found herself full on running outside and into the woods behind the house. She was sure he had seen her and was tried to follow, but she was too fast. But just when she stopped to breathe, she sat down on a stump and leaned against its bark when he managed to catch up. She didn't know how long she had been there nor how he had gotten there so fast.
One minute she had been slumped against the forest floor, her head resting back against the stump supporting her back, her eyes closed and listening to the sounds of crickets and far off party music. Enjoying the cool air against her skin, trying to block out the effects of the beer she had drank. And the next her head jolted up to look at the figure of the boy as he ran into the clearing, panting and gasping for air. Was another effect of it messing with her sense of time? She tiredly put her head back again and groaned, pulling her legs toward herself and resting beside her, trying not to flash anyone in the dress. Honestly, though, it was so dark she also didn't much care.
"Whatever you came here looking for, you've mistaken me for someone else," she said simply, hearing him take a step closer. She really didn't want to deal with him again, though where his little trio of cultees had gone, she found herself a little worried.
"Was it you?" He asked, his tone angrier and more pained than she was expecting. (Y/n) could hear that he was close to breaking down into hateful sobs and she looked at him, trying to figure out why. Crimson eyes glowed against the stark black of night and the boy gasped, reaching in his pocket for something-- likely a knife. "What are you?"
"You've chased me out into the woods, threatened me, and babbled incoherent nonsense since you got here-- yet you're the one asking questions?" She echoed, hoping that a certain man in yellow happened to pick up on the conversation however he's always done. Maybe simply by thinking about him his ego would get him to make an appearance. (Y/n) almost laughed at the thought.
"Was it you?" The boy asked again, louder this time. His fist clenched around the pocketknife in his coat, finger on the button to flick the blade from its iron sheath.
"I've done a lot of shit since I got here, kid. You're gonna need to be more specific," she answered flatly.
"You know what you did!" He yelled out, pulling the weapon from its hiding place near his waist. It gleamed as he held it before his shape, its silvery moonlit gleam reminding her of the golden dagger she had at home. Maybe it wasn't smart to have left it in her room. "Trevor is blind because of whatever you did to turn him against us! And Tyleek has a fucking shattered arm so bad that they had to amputate it! And I still am recovering from a fucking concussion from passing out and hitting the wall! But you look as unscathed and dandy as the day before! It's not fair! We aren't bad people, you're the one who fucking hurt them!"
(Y/n) let out a bitter laugh. "And you three weren't going to do the same thing to me before taking my life? Just be grateful you're still alive, next time we might not be so kind," once again, the girl found herself shoved against the stump, knife to her throat and his elbow pressed painfully to her chest.
"The fuck do you mean 'we'?"
"Are we really doing this again? The one verses three didn't work, what makes you think that you can go toe-to-toe with me again and live?" She asked with a scoff.
"What do you mean 'we'?" He hissed again, his hot breath across her face making her revolt backwards.
"First off, brush your teeth. Secondly, 'we' implies multiple people, did your cult rob you of school or did you just fail English class?"
"Who else was there?" Sung positioned the blade close enough that (Y/n) could feel it on her skin, but the figure standing behind the boy was enough for her to ignore it.
"That would be me," Bill said with a grin, stepping out from the shadow he had been lurking inside of, the darkness releasing his figure to reveal in the moonlight. The black haired kid gasped aloud and went to plunge the knife into the (h/c)'s throat but it instead dug into nothing but wood. She was gone from under him and standing beside the dreamon, rubbing her neck with one hand. "I'm all for you takin a chill pill and kicking back with a few drinks, kid, but you shouldn't do that when dealing with one of the cultists. You've told him too much, but I've come up with a solution."
(Y/n) leaned into his side as he spoke. "I didn't think I'd see any of them here. You could've warned me, asshole," the lady quipped with a frown, casting the man in yellow a look of annoyance. He grinned slightly wider and she knew he didn't say anything on purpose, likely finding her coping boredom ironically hilarious. Sung's eyes looked over the man and he went ridged, grasping the knife's handle so hard that his knuckles turned white and painfully locked in place.
"You're the two from the ball," he gaped out.
"Ding, ding, ding! Now that you know who we are and stuff, due to liability we can't let you leave. Shame," the demon stated with a playful chuckle that didn't quite match the threatening ring in his voice. The kid fell to his knees as Bill appeared behind him and shoved him to the dirt, grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling Sung's head up to face (Y/n). "Do you remember what you did to the dire wolves a few weeks ago?"
The pain written over his face mixed with fear as he looked up at the (h/c) with a wild gaze and the girl reveled in it. The fear he felt when he looked at her she could almost smell as he shook, his hair messily poking out between Bill's gloved fingers. "I do," she responded as bent down in front of the kid and put a light hand on the side of his face. Her nails scraped over his skin lightly and the man looked confused as she watched the expressions change and fight in his eyes. The crimson glow of her half lidded, feral orbs reflected off of his and her fangs glimmered in the light, something out of a child's nightmare just before waking. But he would never snap out of this dream, not this time. No pulling the sheets over his head to hide. The last thing he saw before darkness overtook him was (Y/n)'s nearly hypnotic eyes, and then his brother looking back at him from her gaze.
"Kneel."
꧁𓊈* (-) *𓊉꧂
Ability Log:
Mind reading (source: Deal with Bill)
Unknown (source: given)
'Steal' (source: given)
Night Vision (source: given)
Enhancement (source: given)
Claws (source: given)
Unknown (source: Siren)
Flight (source: harpy)
Regeneration (source: buff-plant)
Unknown (source: Mothman)
Hivemind (source: Direwolves)
Blend (source: the Hide-behind)
Echo-location (source: Faceless Ace)
Unknown (source: Faceless Ace)