Can I Get A Vikings Ship Please? I'm 26, 5ft4, Blue Eyes And Brown Hair. I Enjoying Video Games, Drinking,

Can I get a vikings ship please? I'm 26, 5ft4, blue eyes and brown hair. I enjoying video games, drinking, music, baking and Netflix. I'm sarcastic, have a dirty mind and a dark sense of humour. Thanks 😁

I can definitely see you with Hvitserk. He enjoys having fun and I can see him connecting with your dirty mind and dark sense of humor. You can be with through raids, war, and simple days in.

Killing Me Softly

trigger warning for mentions of rape

Someone Must get Hurt and it Won’t Be Me

Aethelswith

The smell of burning wood and bodies filled the air and sneaked through the cracks in their hiding place. All the screams still rang in her ears even though it had died down hours ago. Had it been hours? Minutes? Seconds? In the end, Aethelswith didn’t know who was alive, dead, taken, or tortured. Sooner or later, the Heathens would find her and the children who hid in the bell tower cupboard.

Aethelswith gathered the courage to speak putting on the facade of bravery to calm the children hiding with her.

“Bridget, Avery, Lorna, I need you to stay here. You must promise me not to leave until the Heathens are gone” she whispered to the frightened children.

“You're not going leave us right princess?” poor blind Beth pleaded. Visibly shaking with fear.

“ I have to go, they are looking for me and I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you. You’ll have to look after one another. Will you promise me that? “ Aethelswith asked.

“Of course princess, if any of those Heathens come near us I’ll protect Leorna and Beth” Peter replied cheerfully masking his own fear.

“More like I’ll be protecting you.” Leorna quipped back despite knowing her lame leg prevented her from running like the other children. Aethelswith knew that if the Heathens found these children they would waste no time in killing them. Twisting the ring off her ring she gave it to Peter.

“ After the Heathens leave you will need to head to York. Show this ring to Lord Benton and tell him what happened here. He will take care of you.” She told them trying to maintain a facade of strength.  She began moving out of the tight cupboard space knowing she had to seek out the men that had ruin this safe haven: The Sons of Ragnar.

The stone corridors were eerily quiet as she snuck through the halls. It was as if she was entering a strange kind of purgatory as she descended through one of the stairwells. The silence wasn’t one of quiet reflection or prayer, it was the silence of death.  The only thing she could hear was her own rapid heartbeat and the slow breathes she was taking in order to calm herself down. Maybe they already left… they took what they wanted and left. She told herself, naively trying to convince herself of the better outcome. Motionless she took a look out one of the narrow windows in the stairway. What she saw was out her nightmares.

Limp dead bodies cover the grounds as Heathens took no notice of them as if they were just dirt under their shoes. The remains of burning buildings lay in ruins while men took pleasure in the women they took alive. They looked as if it was just another grand day for them as if they didn’t take the lives of innocents. A voice spoke to in her head ‘This is your fault. If you weren’t here this wouldn’t have happened. You're the reason they’re dead’. She slowly sank from the window trying to swallow back the tears and the guilt. It was the time to hate, to have no mercy for any enemy, mourning would be for later, anger and revenge would fill her heart now.

Finally, Aethelswith strode softly through corridor trying to make it without being spotted. She could hear two voices coming closer. It was now or never. It would be better to surprise them than or for them to surprise her. Making a swift movement out of the dark she made her way towards the men, increasing the sounds of her steps. ‘Only a few feet from them now’ She thought as they suddenly became aware of her presence.  A rough, calloused hand went grabbed her neck nearly crushing her neck.

“Er den lille sauen tapt?” the mocking voice crooned. He had unforgiving black eyes, queer tattoos covering his face, and her opinion, the most ridiculous haircut she has ever seen. Another hand started caressing her face with an almost tender touch but spoke with an equally dark voice.

“Nå bror, jeg vil ikke at du skal skade den vakre jenta for mye. Afterall, er hun ikke modig for å komme ut med å leke med oss?”. The one who spoke had cold ice blue eyes, similar facial tattoos, an attractive face, and a stupidly long brunette braid. She wasn’t going to even bother to translate what they had said to her. It was no doubt something derogatory that didn’t warrant a response. She straightened her back and spoke with all the confidence of a queen in their language.

“Jeg er prinsesse Aethelswith, og du vil bringe meg til å se ragnars sønner”. A rather surprised look came over the men as the hand slightly loosened around her neck. She continued speaking in their language.

“I am sure that the sons of Ragnar would like to see me unharmed and taken alive. As the granddaughter of King Ecbert, they would like me as a hostage.” slowly moving she carefully removed her earrings. They were gold with little blood red jewels in the center. It one of the few jewelry pieces she had taken with her, and now they were even more necessary to bargain for her safety.

“As payment you may have these.” putting out her hands with the earings, seeing if it would be enough to persuade them. The blonde eagerly took them, as the brunette began to speak again.  Quickly, she began translating what he was saying, silently thanking God for the lessons in the heathens language that she had been taught growing up.

“Why would you come out now little Princess? Were getting tired hearing your Christians dying? Hmm? Surely, you know what the sons of Ragnar will do to you.”   He questioned, almost, she thought, with some pity in his dark voice. “You should have stayed hidden,” he whispered as he took her arm not ungently but with urgency to take her away.  

“If I am to die on this day, then I would like to it to be over with. I believe you call it fate…” She took a pause, speaking more to herself than to them. “ Perhaps it’s my fate to die today after all the suffering I caused. Perhaps God wants me with him Heaven.” she mused to herself ignoring the snort by the blonde man. Thinking back on how this happened. thinking why had God forsaken his people in their time of need. Thinking about how this might have been her fault in some way.

.

The paper faded in and out view before her. It was of no use concentrating on minuscule details of the report on the springtime plow in Streoneshalh.  Aethelswith’s fingers gently tapped against the writing desk in the room she had been given at Streoneshalh. It had been about a year since Ragnar had died at the hands of King Aelle. Now, King Aelle’s limp body was lying in the forest where he had put Ragnar to death. It was only a matter of time before they came for Wessex despite the blind belief of her grandfather that the Sons of Ragnar wouldn’t attack.

Staring out the window, her blue eyes surveyed the peaceful happenings below. The everyday tasks went unencumbered in the courtyard. Townspeople and farmers went about their business in blissful ignorance. She briefly saw Joan and Sarah heading towards the barn. Joan easily recognizable with her bright red hair escaping through her veil while Sarah blonde braids wrapped around her head under her headscarf. Please God, do not let them come here, Aethelswith thought. After the kindness some of her family had shown Ivar, would he still want of all them dead? One side thought “Yes, of course. We sent his father to his death.  They’re Vikings all they know how to do is rape, plunder, steal, and murder.  Naively she believed he would come through. No, he made me a promise… doesn’t that count for something? she thought while tracing her lips.

It was one of the worst places to be on the defensive with a thick fog covering the area. Against the East Cliff, facing the North Sea, on the river Esk, and a two days ride York,  an attack by the Heathens would be an easy win. Surely, it would be safe enough to protect her and the people living here, right?  Why would her grandfather send her back here if it wasn’t safe?  Surely, the Heathens would not know of or search for her. Unless King Aelle had told them before his death about sending his daughter Heluna there. Surely, the man wouldn’t have been such a coward as to bargain his own daughter away in exchange for his own life? Aethelswith knew he didn’t like her mother’ s affair with the priest Athelstan, or fraternizing with King Ecbert, or painting of the Holy Scriptures but surely he still loved his children. The brief interactions with King Aelle left her with mixed feelings for him despite being her grandfather. He held ridiculous notions towards female intelligence and their place in the world. As for Heluna, she had few interactions with her to form a definite opinion but seemed like the perfect Christian princess.

As if her worst fears were realized, the eery ringing of the church bells began to ring, but not for mass or to signal the hours. A cold sweat broke out among her skin as she dared to look back out the window. Black smokes mixed with the heavy fog, while the people scrambled to get away from the oncoming slaughter. The blaring sounds of foreign horns signaled the cold call of death.  

No! No! Anyone but them. Anywhere but here! Please, God, do not abandon us!

A sickening feeling played within her mind. They were here for her or, at the very, least the demons would find her. Rooted to the ground she forced herself in a blind flurry out of her room. The corridors teemed with a flurry of rushing nuns and women running to escape the inevitable. Trying to move through panic to get somewhere, anywhere but here. Making her down the stairs through the suffocating amount of people an arm pulled through the crowd with a surprising amount of strength.

“ Aethelswith, come with me” an elderly voice called. It was Sister Edith, her confessor. She was one to the oldest member of the convent and it showed with a heavily wrinkled face and slightly bent back. She led Aethelswith away from the crowd with surprising speed and towards the ringing bell tower.

“Sister, we have to leave this place. It isn’t safe anymore!” Aethelswith stated. Wondering if the old lady had gone senile.

“ Oh, I  know that, but you won’t be any safer out there. Out there you’ll be easy prey for those animals” she responded. As if it was the most natural conclusion. “Besides” she continued, “ I’ve been here for twenty-five years. I’m not leaving anytime soon.”

“ But, they’ll kill you” Aethelswith whispered, not understanding why Sister Edith wouldn’t save herself.

“Well, I think I’m ready to join God in his kingdom. I’m too old to escape now.” Sister Edith chuckled. “Now, go and hide and wait for them to leave. I have to go find Princess Heluna”.  With a kiss on the cheek and a firm hug, Sister Edith shooed away to a safer place knowing that this would be their last goodbye alive.

Her heartbeat continued to hammer against her chest as she looked for a place to hide. How long would it take them to get there? 10 minutes? 5 minutes? 45 seconds? She was working with borrowed time and she knew it. Trying to reach higher ground, she ran through the various halls and staircases. She heard suddenly the quiet singing of a child with her hand tracing the wall. It was a sweet voice that belonged to a small girl, that could be no more than nine or ten.

“All glory, laud, and honour  To Thee, Redeemer, King! To Whom the lips of children  Made sweet Hosannas ring,”

Aethelswith quickly grabbed hold of the girl only to see that the girl was blind with a cloudy unnatural look.  Was she left behind? Could she not keep up with the others? Why didn’t anyone help her?

“Hello. Who are you? My name is Bridget...  Did Sister Mildred send you? “ She spoke without a worry in a dreamlike state. Her hands started feeling the clothing to see what she was wearing, trying to tell if she was friend or foe.

“ My name is Aethelswith, and we must hide quickly. The--” Aethelswith whispered quickly pulling her towards the belltower but she cut off by the girl.

“ Princess Aethelswith!” Bridget paused trying to make what Aethelswith suspected was an attempt at a curtsey. Bridget continued in an excited voice “ It is so wonderful to meet … I remember when you came by Tamworth in Merica… before the plague came and-” she was about to continue when a crash came from outside the building. She quickly ran to one of the windows to the sight of Hell. The heathens had crashed through the gate like wolves descending on a wounded deer. They were cutting down various townspeople that had tried to take refuge from the slaughter in town. More men took the nuns that had not managed to escape, defiling their holy virtue. She could picture it in her mind, the men burning the holy church, the rape of the holy women, them dragging her beaten body to the one who had promised her that no harm would come to her. He would mock her with his hauntingly beautiful blue eyes and taunt her naivety that she had entrusted him with such a promise.

She swiftly she turned from the horror before her and grabbed the hand of Bridget. Running as fast as she had ever done in entire life, all but dragging the girl to keep up with her. They needed to find somewhere to hide and fast. Before the heathens had made it to the upper levels.  Begging God she silently prayed give us shelter, give us mercy, protect us, please merciful Lord.

“They’re here, aren’t they? The Heathens. I can’t hear the bells ringing anymore.” Bridget whimpered. Her face was contorted with fear, knowing that the heathens had invaded their home.

“Yes, they are here Bridget-” Aethelswith paused, the bells, the belltower… “ I know we can hide Bridget.” Running with renewed effort, they went through the small door that led to the belltower. Gripping each other hands they climbed the stairwell together. Spotting the small cupboard opening only to find two other faces peering back at her. Ignoring them she pushed Bridget in the cramped space and wiggled herself in as well.

It was dark in the cramped cupboard space but she could barely make out the other little faces with her. One that she recognized was the face of a reedy pox-marked, flaxen-haired boy. His name was Avery, an orphan from a village about 20 miles north of Streonshalh and usually worked in the barn. The pox had nearly wiped out the village a 5 years ago, but he had survived by the grace of God. The other face was of a pretty girl with a mop of brown curls. She had a crutch by her right leg. Aethelswith remembered a letter that she had been sent on the status orphanage she was the patronage of at Streonshalh. Lorna, age eleven, beamed crushed her leg in a house fire. They were able to save the girl but not her father.

They were looking at her for what to do, for her to step up a show no fear, but instead, she was saving herself and hiding. Inside she felt like a coward, but another side of her thought was it truly wrong to try to save herself?

“Now children, we will have to be very quiet and we might have to stay here for a long time. Do you think you can do that for me?” Aethelswith whispered, and was met several nodding heads. Trying to comfort the children around her, she wondered how long it be until the Heathens would stop destroying the sanctuary around her and figure out that Princess Heluna and her were here under their noses. Surely, it wouldn’t take Ivar long to figure out that the best to cripple and taunt her father was to use her. The comforting knowledge that her father loved her now made her sick. What type of sick torture would they use on her to get back at him? For the first time in her life, she feared Ivar the Boneless.

The tightening around her arm intensified as the tow Heathen lead her to their destination. The sounds of laughter and the smells of food and alcohol were becoming more apparent as they closed, but it couldn’t stop the sickeningly sweet smell of death from sneaking into her nostrils. Then, she saw it, the bodies of the dead piled outside the church’s main door. They were heaped like discarded garbage instead of human beings.

A black feeling crept up inside, she dug her fingernails into her skin. They aren’t human, these heathens, they are the vilest creatures of this Earth. These good Christian people had never done anything to warrant this defilement. This is my fault, she thought to herself

Staring at the bodies, she started searching for anyone she knew, praying that she didn’t know any of them. But then she saw Sister Edith. It was almost like she was sleeping, but the blood stains coming from her chest betrayed that thought. It can’t be her, she didn’t deserve this.  Sharp breaths were coming in and out of her chest willing herself not to cry.

“What is the little christian going to cry” the blonde mocked cruelly. Black thoughts clouded her mind as she gave him a look that would scare the vilest demons in Hell

“ I promise you, you’ll never see me cry, not in your wildest dreams. If someone must get hurt it won’t be me.” she hissed.

“You sure about that,” he sang back, but before the blonde could do any more the brunette interceded,

“That’s enough brother. We made a promise. I intend to keep it.” He almost commanded as he looked back at her with what she thought might be the smallest bit of empathy.  He opened the church doors to an array of tall brutes of heathen men some with her Sisters of Christ.

She straighten her posture to that of queen, fully intending to show no mercy, give no quarter, and make them pay. Her thoughts as she entered the place that used to be for God were now a place for vengeance. You’ll wish you never met me, never betrayed me, and never set a foot in this country. For what you did to these people, you’ll regret ever crossing me.

When you have so many good ideas for fanfics but you can’t write a story to save your life:

Tell Me What You Want!

Thank you to all who follow me! I sincerely appreciate it. Tell me what you want me to work on. It might be a little harder to write something each week due to my spring semester of college this year, but I will try my best!

Yes! I totally agree! If he needs a queen ...

All Hail to My King !

Harald has always been a complex character to me and that’s what always made me love him. He can be ruthless and violent as Hell but he has honor and he is so craving for love.

This season, he proved himself to be a great Viking and even more so in the latest one: the way he treated Magnus, how he took care of him, how he could have let Bjorn die and steal away Kattegat and Grunnhild, how he got hurt because of it !

And what gets on my nerves is that Bjorn will probably fool him just like Ivar did and this is so unfair.

I really hope he will get what he wants in the last season: a wife who loves him, children and the Kingdom he longs for !

All Hail King Harald, the only one who truly deserves that title !

The Wild Hunt Chapter Two: Let’s Play A Game (2/6?)

“I said Are you ready to play the game?” the little blonde girl asked loudly. She had a little doll next to her with cracks in its porcelain skin with eyes that blinked at the same time as its owner.

“Who are you? Are you…” Aethelswith glanced back towards the door she leaned against with all her weight trying to prevent the creature from entering. “Are you with him?” she whispered

“ Oh no,” the little girl paused to think,” well not really. But you don't have to worry about him right now. I have to explain the rules first.” the girl came closer kneeling down to Aethelswith wiping the tears from her eyes.  Although to any other person this might be a soothing gesture, there was something horribly off about this little girl.

She looked like a little girl, acted like a little girl, but something wasn’t human about her. Her skin had a translucent quality too it and eyes seemed hollow yet fragile much like her doll’s appearance. Worst were the marks on her neck. Purple bruises that were strikingly visible against her pale neck. An Angry yellow mark colored her throat as if to say “This is what killed me”.

“Don’t worry it doesn’t hurt anymore. It hasn’t hurt for a long time ” she said sweetly, noticing Aethelswith’s pitying looks.

“The man who did this can’t hurt me, my sisters, my mother, or anyone else anymore. I made sure of it,” she whispered darkly, her eyes were no longer hollow but instead showed a sinister wrath of hellfire that promised vengeance to her enemies.

In a strange way, Aethelswith was not scared of this little girl, rather she felt great sorrow for her. This little girl had been stuck in this place for who knows how long and hadn’t been allowed to past peacefully into the next life. Instead, the burning rage of her death had left what she had assumed to once be a happy little girl into an empty porcelain doll. Grabbing the little girls hand she gently squeezed it she stopped her crying. Hell, it was much better to be with this girl than to be out there with that creature

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to cause you to worry,” Aethelswith replied, “My name is Aethelswith, what’s yours?”

“Oh, I already know your name and your friends' names and the names of your family. You see I had to for the game. But I suppose if you need any help during the game you can call on me.’ she stated as it was the most normal thing in the world for a dead Victorian girl to know the interpersonal details of several teenagers living in the 1980s.

Doing a little curtsey, she introduced herself,

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Marjorie Hamstead.” grabbing Aethelswith’s hand she dragged her from the foyer, “Come on, I’ll take you to your friends. They’re waiting for us to come upstairs.

They passed elaborately decorated walls with dark green wallpaper lined with knickknacks and framed family photographs. With each step they took the facade of the house started changing. Although it appeared like a loving family home blood splatter covered the walls, knocked over items remained on the floor, and bloody handprints stained the door handles. It appeared more like a crime scene than a home. The carpet underneath her feet felt wet to the touch as if the blood was still fresh. An unassuming white door stood before the pair. Slowly opening the door Marjorie pushed her inside.

The nursery was in faded pink flowered wallpaper print surrounded with dolls, books, a little tea set, and two lily-white beds. There stood all her missing friends along with slightly altered copies of Marjorie. Ainsley had burn marks along her nightgown and seemed the most frazzled out of the girls. She laid on the bed snuggling a large stuffed bear as a little blonde girl showed off her collection of dolls. This little girl had twin blonde braids and a large bloodstain on her nightgown from her slit throat.

Joan was pacing back and forth in the playroom while several strands of red hair were covered in ice. Heluna was at the tea set with another little blonde girl with blue eyes that a stab wound through her chest. While Sarah sat on the other bed with the final blonde girl playing cards.

“Aethelswith your here” Joan voiced in relief hugging her. Noticing the scratch marks and blood coming from cuts Joan’s face darkened and whispered, “What did that bastard do to you?”

“Nothing, I managed to get away and hid in this house. What happen to you guys?’ Aethelsiwth questioned

“ Well, I went to the bathroom to check on Ainsley and I get there shes crying about some creature stalking her. Out of nowhere, the bathroom mirror starts smoking and the center is melting and this freaky hand, I swear it was made of half monster half fire and brimstone, grabs Ainsley. I tried to pull her back but some fucker with sickly ice cold hands grabs my ass and pulls me through some portal. Then I land here in the  haunted mansion from Disneyland entertaining the Grady twins from the shining.” Joan ranted with visible annoyance.

Soon all the girls were back together talking about what had happened to them. Sarah saw the disaster in the bathroom and saw swallowed by a hole that dropped her in this house. Ainsley quivered describing the hell she saw as a fiery demon dragged her from the bathroom. Heluna wasn’t taken violently at all and was rather shocked at what had happened to her friends. She simply stated that is was Sigurd at the door waiting for and starting apologizing saying “This isn’t how I wanted us to be together”.

An irritated voice interrupted their catching up,

“ I have to explain the rules by midnight so if you please sit down, I’d like to get started,” Marjorie stated but one of her younger sisters interrupted her,

“ Can’t we play with them some more? It’s been so long since we’ve had any company” one of the girls pleaded towards Marjorie, but was met with a sharp rebuke.

“No, we have a job to do.” Marjorie snapped but soften at the youngest’s sniveling.

“If they get captured we can invite them over for tea, okay Florence,” Marjorie said softly and motioned the girls to begin the ceremony. The youngest, Florence placed a little white embroidered bag in front of Ainsley. A slightly older girl placed a similar pink bag in front of Sarah and a green bag in front of Joan. The final girl a gave a fur-lined bag was given to Aethelswith and a leather purse was given Heluna.

Hidden in a little purse sat an item that had each been taken from them previously. Ainsley pulled out a family photo that edges had been frayed with fire. It was the Burke’s Christmas card photo. Her mother, father, and her sister Ashley all stood smiling with her on the beach. It felt tainted like some creature had defiled the memory of this happy family with a horrifying obsession of a teenage girl.

“Oh my God, this is last year’s Christmas card! Does this mean this creep has been watching me since then?” Ainsley squeaked out eyes searching for an answer.

“Of course, each player will have taken an item of their intended target before the ceremony. It item must remain with the target. Should the target escape and the item is captured by the player, the player may reattempt capture until the target’s 21st birthday.” Marjorie stated as if she had done this a dozen times before.

“Wait a second, who are these players? Why are we the target? All we did was play with a Ouija board!” Sarah exclaimed with worry etched on her face. Marjorie cut her off and made a motion for silence as her sisters made a ring around them.

The light in the room began to dim as the scene around the girls changed. The wooden floor had turned into a rigid mass of stone.  Behind the girls, the wallpaper peeled off slowly showing an ancient clock painted in blood moon hues. The haunting clang of midnight played ringing before them as time began to slow.

Instead of sweet little girls, small bubble-like orbs were above the girls heads each filled with light. Marjorie even looked more sinister now with eyes shaded in a glassy hue and body stiff and rigid. An eerie cold voice sang out in sync with the former sweet voice.

“You’re here to play a game with us. You have been specifically chosen as the target of the kings of the Others domain. You may open your bags now if you have not previously opened them.” the creature that had replaced Marjorie spoke.

Heluna pulled out a gold ring. Aethelswith recognized as a Christmas gift from Heluna’s father.  A blue scrunchie came out of Joan’s bag and a large pearl earing out of Sarah’s. Aethelswith hesitated for a moment before slipping her hand into the purse. Feeling a feathery soft lace fabric she pulled it out.  Before her stood to a piece of fabric she had lost her freshman year of high school. It appeared largely insignificant to others but her grandmother had given her just before she passed.  Aethelswith briefly wondered if her friends' items had any specific value to them.

“ Place these items upon your person, if you cannot you may use the bag given to you.” the creature inside of Marjorie spoke quickly and continued,

“ You will have until sunlight in the domain to escape the maze we have set up for you. Should you escape the maze but not reach the replica of the place of original capture and close the portal a new maze shall be chosen the following night.  If there are any questions, I will now answer them” the creature finished its spiel waiting for the shock to pass the girls.

“God, it’s like we're in some shitty gothic romance novel!” Sarah cried out not believing the gravity of the situation.

“More like a B-list horror flick” Joan muttered under her breathe as the second chime of midnight sounded.  Jokes aside several questions flashed through their minds.

“What is the portal? How do we close it? How much time do we have to complete the maze” Aethelswith asked, thinking to herself that clarification on what they had to do was the best course of action. Who knew how much time they had left?

The creature’s head turned with its empty eyes turning toward her and began answering with surprising straightforwardness.

“The portal used tonight was done with the Ouija board given to you. A least one target must reach the board and say goodbye to all hunters using their names. You will have until sunrise, that is seven hours starting at midnight, to close the portal.”

Ainsley found her courage and squeaked out her questions.

“Why are they doing this to us? We haven’t done anything to deserve this treatment. We didn’t want them to take us or to play this stupid game.” she ranted quietly, as she nervously wrung her hands together, only quietly whispering to herself, “what happens if they get us?”

“Well, I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in this matter.” the voice coming out of the girl said mockingly,  “Some people are chosen simply because they are physically appealing and the creature enjoys the hunt. Most of the time, targets are chosen to become the mate of the hunter. This way the object of their affection has a slim chance of going back home, especially if their human.”

Darkly, her face contorted into a gleeful grin before them as her voice chilled them to the bone.

“As to what to expect when they capture you, well” she giggled, “ when a man has lust in him he’s rather hard to stop. He will take you back to his kingdom and consummate the relationship where you will likely become his wife or concubine.”

Another chime of the clock rang signaling the coming of the game, even the orbs above their heads began to dim as the air around them became colder.

“Any more questions, your time is running out’” the voice inside of Marjorie sang out in sadistic glee, sealing the conclusion that Marjorie's body was only a conduit for this ceremony.

“How are we supposed to fight them off? Doesn’t it seem they have an unfair advantage?” Joan hissed, visibly enraged at the unfairness or their predicament.  The voice made an annoyed huff and spoke

“They will take turns, only coming to their target one at a time. The first target must be taken before the next hunter can begin. They may work in pairs of two or hinder-” but another chime came from the clock.

The spirit possessing the body of Marjorie began gleefully clapping with vigor as if she had been waiting for this spectacle all year. The room began to warp into another landscape. No longer were the girls in the clocktower nor at the Victorian mansion, instead, a dark room devoid of light greeted them. Vaguely medieval looking with its stone walls, floors, and arched windows.

“It’s time to begin!” the voice cried out cheerfully no longer using the body of a young girl to lure them into a sense of peace. Taking in the frightened looks of the girls it did not seem to understand their hesitation.

“What are you waiting for? Let’s play a game.”