scripted-dalliances - Tumblr blog

scripted-dalliances · 5 years

Text

Rest In Peace: The Untold Chapter

Title: Rest In Peace

Summary: A part of Faithless Fairy Tale, a more in depth look at how they brought Laura back to life. Appearance of old faces, creation of new ones and if you’re looking for canon, it left a long, long time ago. If you squint you might be able to see some pieces from the book.

“But when we find love no matter how wrong, how sad, or how terrible, we cling to it. It gives us our strength. It holds us upright. It feeds on us, and we feed on it.

Love is our grace. Love is our downfall.”

-The Strain, Guillermo del Toro

“You know what I will ask of her, of what she'll lose and gain.” Isis tells him bluntly. He'll give the goddess credit, she does not mince words. She only teases with a smile, never out of vindictive pettiness. Oh she has a thousand faces and names for a reason, but she doesn't use them like she could. “Without the heart she has now, free of burdens, she will not be connected to you. No coin to keep either of you bonded to the other, if she decides to walk away.

“I know. I'm not fuckin' stupid.”

Still, she pokes, “If she takes our offer, that means her connection, her faith to you is breakable.”

Mad Sweeney scowls and attempts to busy himself with his lighter. Flicking it on and off, with violent snaps of his thumb. Twice the top catches his flesh, and he has to bite his tongue to keep from screaming out.

Blood is dripping between his fingers and starting to coat his tongue.

Fucking still she doesn't give, continues to stare at him. Awaiting an answer he doesn't want to give.

Seconds tick by, and he starts to sweat. The nervous twitch he developed upstairs under her gaze comes back in full force and he wonders if this is her power. Or if it's just some skill all mothers garner.

He lasts upwards of thirty seconds before breaking.

“Fine. Fuckin' fine. Just spit it out, what the fuck do you want from me?” He turns and meets her head on. Well, best he can when she doesn't even hardly meet his chest. “Yes, I know what it all means, and how fuckin' painful that will be for me. I know and it doesn't matter because she deserves this.”

“And we both know how well she takes what she deserves.”

Shit.

“She'll take it. With both grubby greedy hands, watch.” He lies.

“Believe that, do you?” Isis questions.

He has to. He has to fuckin' try or else what has this all been for? This is Laura's best shot at not only life, but something better. What did it matter if it was at his expense? -he only ever really wanted was to get off this shit ride of existence.

Of course that desire had turned invalid with Laura's introduction back into the world. Completely and utterly distracted him, because now all he wanted was to wrap his hands around her pale throat and shake her silly. Fight her, kiss her, and drag her kicking and screaming to realizations of her shitty life. Her shitty choices and mistakes that she didn't need to make.

Somewhere, along their miserable journey that need and his guilt had twisted into something he couldn't ignore.

Had twisted into a small hunger to have her; her violence, her love and everything else she shoved down and pretended she didn't have. He wanted to repay the crime she did to him, ten fold. If she got his heart, why couldn't he have her’s? Just for a second?

-instead she had offered her faith.

When she had made the offer, he didn't even know it could work. The very idea of it laughable. Even if he did manage to help lead her back to the land of the living, how could an unbeating, faithless heart like her's ever believe in him?

-and then she went and fuckin' did it anyways. The bitch.

From faithless to blessed, to cursed all the same, they became tied. To have her believe in him, to feel someone who believed in him touch him...

It filled him up, made him whole.

-but it's not for him, that level of devotion. Not when she doesn't really know what it means, and he still has her blood on his hands. When he can't look at her and not feel like a fuckin' piece of shit. This is why he would give up all his power, all his luck and even his own heart for her.

That's just what love makes you capable of.

Mad Sweeney is her end, and she is his, and that's just how the story will go if she wants life.

Even if he has to make fucking sure of it himself.

He will.

#mad wife #madwife #madwife fic #mad sweeney #mad sweeney x laura moon #laura moon

21 notes · View notes

scripted-dalliances · 5 years

Text

Rest In Peace: Chapter Twenty

Title: Rest In Peace

Chapter: 20

“Omnia vincit Amor: et nos cedamus Amori.”

Love conquers all: and may we cede to Love. -Vergilius

What Laura doesn't know, is that her scream was forever. That it tore a hole in the fabric of the after world, into the very flesh of the universe and every layer it could ever hold.

Only to have it push right back and pull.

It wrenched at where she held everything she was, and felt it slip out of her all the same. She felt alive and dead, empty and full to bursting, godlike and broken. The story of Laura McCabe, of Laura Moon unraveled like a scroll, miles long and full of damning black ink. All her truths, all her lies.

She felt it all be pulled out and exposed, felt the universe reach in and take.

It wanted to make her hollow, so it could pour something better in.

Her story, her spirit and heart fought for dominance, against the might of the universe. Felt it's weight and teeth on her throat, demanding she accept this gift.

Of life restored, of a sacrifice so willingly given.

After all, it was hungry too for what it had been offered and promised in return.

It wanted to taste this new, raw energy. This terrible and glorious heart. To watch it stretch out into this new life and see what came of it.The universe wanted to consume her and spit her back out. Wind her up and set her loose. A mystical and powerful new toy, to play with for eternity.

It wanted to do this on the bones of something old, something red and gold. Something once forgotten. Something given.

This is what it means to be a god, to give yourself up, to build yourself anew, and that is why you must do it alone. Why no one can do it for you. Only you can climb this tree, this ladder, this pain and learn from it.

You have to burn, drown and split yourself open. You have to believe, and it is difficult thing to do all these things at once, blind and alone, and come out stronger.

You have to have a stubborn heart.

-one made to house all those difficult secrets of the world, filled with more than just blood and love; but hate and suffering too.

The best stories, myths and legends always do.

Except...

Except Laura McCabe doesn't want to be a god.

She doesn’t want the powers, doesn’t want eternity or shared weight of the world. To her, there is nothing worth knowing if she can’t decide what is being told.

In fact. There's a lot of things she doesn't want.

She doesn't want forever and a day, if it means ever feeling as alone as she did, trapped under a tarp with bug spray in her mouth.

She doesn't want to share her heart with the universe. She doesn't want to give it the satisfaction of knowing all of her, and letting her life fall in the same predictable pattern it had when she was just a lonely girl, with a hole inside her.

She fucking hates that story.

Just as she didn't want darkness and a grave, she decides bluntly where the universe can shove it's so called gifts. She didn't want them.

She didn't even want this stupid fucking coin.

But she could share it.

Ibis has bared witness to a great many of things.

He has seen the end and start of many stories, even ones likes this. Where a man and a woman take on death, gods and try to earn their forever. Obviously, sadly, most of those stories do not end well.

Death is never simple, and rarely likes giving up it's secrets. Let alone it's ghosts. It does not play the role of kindness, if it can.

He expects this story to be like the others, and wrap it's self up. Laura will have her life, paid by Sweeney and become a new god, restoring the balance left behind in her death and his.One of luck most likely, maybe one of justice for fallen women.

His fingers twitch to write it down, it's a rare thing to not know for sure.

“We will help her.” Nephthys promises to no one, and he tilts his head to her catch her cutting expression of fear. He looks back at Laura and Sweeney, still knelt before the scales.

Mad Sweeney is rested against her, hand on her chest where he shoved the relic of Isis in, an offering of the strongest spark, of life sacrificed. Perhaps something had gone wrong? Perhaps Laura had lost too much to want to return. Maybe her heart as weak as any other mortal's against the unknown.

“Right, sister?” Nephthys questions again.

Isis, the All-mother; who knows secret names and all the power that comes with knowing, simply says, “Keep watching.”

Ibis turns his attention back to Laura and Sweeney and shockingly finds himself looking at something new.

A mortal ripping apart her own ticket to godhood.

-but there Laura goes, breaking tradition and reason, and any laws they've might have had. By splitting herself open during her own rebirth.

With mortal grip and mortal pain she digs within her spiritual self, pulls out the blood drenched coin. The piece that started this, that gave her justice, strength and a chance at forever.

He watches in mute awe as she snaps it in half.

“Who the fuck said your story was over?” Laura tells the dead man in her lap, who looks peacefully at rest and that seems to piss her off further. “We are not done. I am not done with you.”

Laura takes one half of the coin and shoves it in between Mad Sweeney's pale lips. So deep and violently, that her knuckles are cut bloody by his teeth. She repeats the process with her own mouth. Swallowing the half of the coin remaining in one large gulp.

Together they radiate a slow glow, a shimmer until it gets so bright even Ibis has to tilt his gaze away. They glow like new born starts until finally the leprechaun chokes back to life. In her arms, the two are reborn together, the magic between is new, wonderful and frightening to behold.

Like two suns shining at once.

“Oh...” Ibris says in wonder.

Isis smiles, looking over the pair. Glad to see her little ruse worked. All Laura needed was a push, to choose what she really wanted and her heart did the rest. A strong enough heart, with enough pain and luck to fuel it could do a lot of impossible things.

A pair of cool fingers slide to hold her's, and she turns to look up at the handsome face of her husband. He kisses her cheeks, and she feels his love renew her.

That's how her own story had developed once upon a time. Osiris's end was suppose to be just that. Set made sure of it twice, but Isis had traveled the roads, rivers and every hill for his pieces because she believed she could bring him back. When her loss had driven her mad, when failure after failure meant all that longer without him, she had continued undaunted.

Not out of wifely duty, not because she was told to or because it was written but because she refused to lose him. He was her's, and nothing had the right to take him. Not even death.

After all in her heart, there was no Isis without Osiris and vice versa.

So she had gone against the universe, when she put him back together like a puzzle, with nothing but thread and her sister's helping hands.When she opened his mouth and shared her breath with him.

Her touch, her heart, her everything.

But before all that. Before she was ever called a god; she was a woman who had held the shreds of her other half in her hands and roared at the hole developing inside her.

That had always been her beginning, as much as her end. As much as his.

A forever.

It had always been a story of blood, mutilated corpses and loss. With her own kin telling her no, while the world hid him and the universe laughed at her for daring to try this feat alone.

To this day, she smiles with satisfaction.

For the chance. For having him in her own complicated way because she was uncompromising as the Nile it's self.

For never once apologizing for it.

-because that's the best story of all, when a heart tells death no.

And wins.

#madwife #mad wife #mad sweeney #mad sweeney x laura moon #madwife fic #laura moon

12 notes · View notes

scripted-dalliances · 5 years

Text

Rest In Peace: Chapter Nineteen

Title: Rest In Peace

Chapter: 19

“I desire the things that will destroy me in the end.” -Sylvia Plath

Mad Sweeney emerges from the banks of the Nile without any of the grace and help like Laura had received. None of the gods made a motion to offer him a hand as he stumbled wetly from it's shores and stalked towards them, out of breath and coughing. In fact a lot of them looked pissed.

“You look like a drowned rat.” Laura comments with a smug look.

-because he really does.

Sweeney spits out a mouthful of water at her feet and bends over to heave out the rest still trying to drown him. When he can finally take in a lung full of air instead of water, he simply rests his hands on his knees and glares at her.

“Fuck you, do you know how hard it is to get here? Without someone holding the back door open for you?” He straightens out his spine and turns his glares at their audience. “She can have the coin, I give it to her freely and she can use that to get back, and before you assholes start. I know what it means, for me and I don't care. Just letting her fuckin' live without any of you dickheads tied to her will be peace enough for me.”

Laura smug smile drops.

He will vanish without it, she knows, because that's suppose to be her fate.

“You idiot.” Laura shoves at his shoulder. She doesn't have the coin, so it does absolutely nothing to him. Without her monstrous strength, he is unmovable rock. “That's not going to work for me! Not when I just decided I could handle to look at your stupid face.”

Sweeney looks down at her crossly, “Are you seriously giving me shit right now? -I have crossed a bloody fuckin' ocean for you, woman. And an after life!” He points out, a little late to why one should eclipse the other.

They stubbornly look into each others furious eyes for what feels like eternity before he catches the hurt expression threatening to break free -he catches it in the twitch of her lips, the shake of her hands and in the edges of her eyes.

He can’t have her cry for him.

“This is how it has to be, Laura. How it should end. I’m the reason you’re dead, remember?”

“I haven’t forgotten, asshole.” Laura replies angrily, before letting her voice softens just enough to really have him worry, “I still blame Odin more.”

Mad Sweeney allows himself to crack a small worn smile. “Aye, he might have ordered your death, but it was my hands that did it. My choice to carry it, and I did it in exchange for a promise. A shit promise, to cheat the universe and get a proper ending. I was a fuckin’ fool, thinking I could use the likes of him and not get bent over and fucked.”

“Such a way with words,” Laura muses, “Sure you aren’t a god of poetry?”

“Fuck you dead girl.” He laughs back, bitterly. Wiping at his face, and sighing. “You already know my story. You already know who I am, just as much as I know you. Same way you were crawlin’ in the dead of night to hide under plastic and fill your lungs with poison, I was debasing myself for that old bastard for half the fuckin’ chance to go out in a blaze of glory. Different methods, but we both wanted the same things.”

Laura says nothing from his confession.

She knows this has always been his goal. He told her as much, all that time ago with his heart bared and voice thick with emotion. She's never forgotten, and always knew deep down, this is how he wanted his story to end but she doesn't like it. She fucking hates it.

“Only we both got slapped for our efforts, didn’t we? That night I got shoved and woven into your story instead.”

“You say that like it's my fault, asshole.”

“Is a bit.” He mutters, “I looked at you, and remembered who I used to be and it hurt like a bloody knife to the heart. All because I looked into your dead eyes and knew you had been something more, a new chapter. A new end. I knew the second I looked at you, I had fucked up.”

“That’s funny, because every time I look at you, I see a fuck up.”

Mad Sweeney smiles, and stands closer to her. So that she has to crane her neck all the way up to properly look him in his eyes.

“Savin' the likes of you, like this,” He says it so fucking sweetly, with such a god damn twinkle in his eyes that Laura can't decide if she wants to climb him to tear out his hair or kiss him. Or both. “That's a worthy end, ain't it?”

“Fuck you.” She growls, reaching out and grasping his shirt front. Her tiny grip is no where near the level of strength it was before, but he goes down regardless. Kneels before her in the sand. “Do you hear me, you asshole leprechaun? Don't you dare do this. If I take that coin, you don't have a way back, do you?”

“We can not judge those who we have no right to.” Horus answers, voice clear and direct. Here, in the after life, his sanity is easier to hold on to. “He will wither in these sands.”

Laura takes Sweeney's face into her hands. Just like all the times before, touching him fills and lights her up all at once.

Fourth of July fireworks, sex on ecstasy or even the sun. All paled in comparison. Unlike all the times before, neither of them pull away. He turns his head and kisses her palm as she digs her nails into the flesh of his cheek for daring to be sweet.

“Do not use me to kill yourself, because you're too much of a coward to keep going.” There are tears beading in her eyes as she looks down at him. Angry ones as she accuses him, “You once told me you owed a battle.”

“Aye, and there's never been a battle like you, Laura McCabe. Couldn't out run you if I fuckin' tried. You've chased me down and dragged me back. Coin or no coin, more than a few times now.” He reaches up and covers her hand with his own. It's the softest he's ever touched her and her bones ache with the loudness of their desire to feel those hands else where.

She's never felt like this, dizzy with want. With fucking love. All while feeling like she's going to choke on it. Her heart rages within her chest, at the idea she can know his touch like this, and go on without it. The very idea of it swells in her like a bubble of poison, staining everything side of her with an ache she can't reach.

“You were once a sacrifice, it's my turn.”

“No.” She says, but he's already surging forward and kissing her. “No.”

“I do this in the name of Laura McCabe.” He whispers reverently against her lips while shoving the coin into her chest. It resists, in this place her spiritual body is made whole, no clever easy opening points like before but he kisses her harder and she feels herself open in more than one way to receive him.

He slides the coin in, and she screams.

#mad wife #madwife fic #madwife #mad sweeney #mad sweeney x laura moon #laura moon

11 notes · View notes

scripted-dalliances · 5 years

Text

Rest In Peace: Chapter Eighteen

Title: Rest In Peace

Chapter: 18

“Look at me. I am woven together by story, held firm by myth. Look at me. I will tell you of the men that ate me bloody. I will tell you of how ferociously I bit my way out of their stomachs." -Venetta Octavia

“I'll fail.” Laura tries to yell, but fear chokes her down to a whisper of protest. She looks over to Anubis, who seems passively annoyed at best. Clearly, not wanting to be here and it’s this annoyance she clings to.

“We've already done this part, remember?” She looks to Anubis. “I said fuck you, fuck your scales and you told me to shut the fuck up?”

“I said I would deliver you onto darkness.”

“Same thing.” She snaps, “Same heart.”

The sisters ignore her, and with strong hands force her to take a seat in front of Anubis and his stupid scales once more. A wind from the west blow across the desert, makes the feather twist before her. Looking light as any other feathers she's ever seen.

“I told you, the universe would want payment.” Isis reminds her, voice soft but touch stronger than Laura’s even if she had the coin. Fear starts to grow in her belly. If this goes sideways, like it was sure to go, there would be no coin to drag her back into the land of the living.

“This isn’t a price I can pay.” Laura replies, “I don’t have it. I don’t have the heart you think I do.” She tries again, but she feels small and powerless for the first time in a long time and it leaves her numb.

“You want life, this is the price. The universe doesn’t give back unless it’s going to gain something in return. You have to offer yourself to it, whole heart and more, to become part of it. In the same way we are.” Ibis comments, pushing up his glasses. “You were never going to come back mortal, because you never were to begin with. You have spirit and a story that goes back centuries. A queen, a thief, a dead girl, it’s all here, if you want to read it.” He pats his little book fondly.

Laura sends him a dirty look, because what the actual fuck is he talking about? -but just as quick, she feels it fall as Isis and Nephthys let go of her hands. She feels their lack of touch deeply. The latter seems to read her broken expression and reaches out to cup her cheek.

“You mortals, have forgotten what you are capable of. You don't even know how close you are, how easy it is for you to change when you have the will to want to. So many of you have hearts built for it, if only you could remember. For so long, it's been only been us gods who remember, but we learned that secret from the inside of your delicate bones.” The goddess explains, finally letting go completely and taking a stand with the rest of her family until only Isis herself remains next to Anubis and Laura.

“So much of your kind is already made of fire and stardust, sewn together with love and hate, all it takes is a single spark to have you bloom or burn.” Isis remarks, “Easier still when you believe in something to do it for you. And that's what I ask for you to do now, Laura McCabe. Laura Moon. Laura the girl who could shed her death and became a god herself. Give us your heart and ascend. No need of a coin, no darkness. No more loneliness.”

Laura is silent, taking it all in before she speaks. Tone disrespectful and angry, “I just have to let you judge me, take my heart and everything that I am?”

“You've done it before.” The woman with startling gold eyes comments. Tone just as haughty and furious as Laura's own. Whoever she is, she clearly doesn't care for Laura. “You've sat there, with no coin, no faith and no one waiting, just the same as you do now.” She directs her gaze to her family around her, “Are you really sure this woman is worth is all this trouble? If she can sit there with her nose in the air, after pleading for our mother's help, only to ignore us when we offer her godhood.”

“Who said I wanted to be a god?” Laura points out, but all it does is bring the angry woman's gaze back on her with even more distaste. Like Laura is small and foul, something to scraped off her shoe.

Laura doesn’t deny she’s probably sending the woman the same look back.

“Listen, this is our help.” The woman starts again, “This is the miracle you want, served on a silver platter, and all we ask in return is to let us do our duties. Why are you so stubborn? What would it matter to you, if we keep your heart? What were you going to do with it?”

“Bast.” Isis warns, “Laura, you have a choice but this is our help. Our payment.”

“-and what, you guys get to hot wire yourselves to my new shiny existence as a god?” Laura interrupts, “Is that how you've kept yourselves going? Leeching off anything new that comes up.”

Isis frowns, “You have no idea how remarkable it is, to find someone like you these days. No, you will not be the first of your kind Laura, but it is a rare thing for a woman to make her own story, rarer still for that woman to make herself a god from it. You have this chance, when we have weighed your heart and seen your truth; you’ll be reborn. All you have to do is give us the allowance to your heart, to give up the coin and the leprechaun you have bonded yourself to.

Laura frowns, “I already gave up the coin.” She points out before following up with a more demanding, “What do you mean I have to give him up too?”

“You have to give up your heart, Laura.” Isis repeats, “That is him, as much it is the thing that beats inside your chest now.”

“No.” She stubbornly refuse, “No. I mean, he’s annoying as fuck and I get a special kind of joy watching him be a big idiot -but he’s mine now. That’s what you said on the bank, right? He’s...” A slowly realization creeps onto her, “You said he is the reason you knew you could help.”

Isis gives her a sad smile.

“There has to be an exchange Laura, a balance. Your old heart for a new one. I am not powerful enough to do this on my own, I used up so much just to bring you here. To help you gain that extra push you asked me for. I can only drag your unwilling spirit so far, and your heart is heavy. With guilt it doesn't need, with love never given and now wrapped around it is a rope of him. If you do not allow me and my kin access, Laura, we can not help you. You will be stuck here, in limbo until you either slip into darkness or learn how to bring yourself back. By yourself.”

Isis's tone implies that it is more likely that she will go into the darkness first.

“If I do that, I lose him anyways. Weirdly enough, that's not a good selling point any more.” She says with a sad little huff. Before, when she was told to toddle off into darkness, she had been enraged. Furious enough to dig in her heels and bite anything that tried to budge her. Now, she’s tired and drained, with a heart beating in her chest so hard it hurts.

A reminder it seemed, that life hurts. Love hurts. Did she really want that?

Laura crosses her arms, and looks upwards at the universe rolling above her. The cosmos were stretching out before her, grand and menacing in that way only stars can be. “I know you've helped me, and thanks for that by the way, but it turns out I can't give you what you ask. It's not really mine to share, because if you know my heart, you'll know his...and fuck it. I don't want to share.”

“Of course you don't” Anubis sighs, like he knew this was always going to be her answer. He gives Isis a pointed look before walking away. Turning his back on the whole mess. Nephthys steps forward, gold eyes filled with kindness.

“No one expected this to be an easy choice for you, just as no one does not expect you to mourn what you have lost. Love is your spirit's untold story, it's hard, bitter and not very pretty but why would it be? It's meant to last forever. The love of roses, sweetness and beauty always fade, always wither and break.” The goddess of mourning says with tears gathering at the edges of her eyes. She is mourning the story of Laura Moon, “Your love is salt, twisted bronze and rusted gold; and it is hungry. That is why you always come back, why the coin was called to you. You have so many unfinished stories nestled within your heart. It's why your spirit is so stubborn and refuses to let go even when it should by all rights, do so. My sister's heart is the same way, how it refused to let go when the world sought fit to take her husband.”

“I was chopped up. Twice. It was gross.” The tall man mentions with delight, and Isis smiles up at him with clear affection.

“So gross, darling. I had to carry every piece. My nails were black with your blood.” She tells him, but between her words is a fondness. Like she's saying I love you, I love you, I love you. I would carry your death in my hands all over again.

And this is the belief between them, a love story of blood on her hands and firm promises whispered into dead ears. Messy as it was strong. A marriage that had made even death submit.

Laura looks at them and forces herself to make a choice. The only one that matters at the end of this stupid journey.

“I am not giving you my heart.” Laura decides, rising her voice so all can hear her. “I meant it when I said I believed in him, and I know that dumb ass believes in me. So I guess...I just have to sit here and wait till he brings me back. Because he's going to. One way or another.”

From behind them, a ringing, furious Irish man yells.

“Yer damn fuckin' straight I will, dead bitch!”

#mad wife #Madwife #mad wife fic #mad sweeney x laura moon #mad sweeney #laura moon

15 notes · View notes

scripted-dalliances · 5 years

Text

Rest In Peace: Chapter Seventeen

Title: Rest In Peace

Chapter: 17

“Love, like light, is a thing that is enacted better than defined: we know it afterward by the traces it leaves on paper.” -Adam Gopnik

At the top of the bank, Isis pulls Laura down to join her to the sandy edges. They are both wet, covered in mud and sand, but Laura isn't even mad about it. Sure her dress is ruined to hell, but with every breath she takes, she finds herself caring less.

“Am I alive?”

“Yes and no.This is an in between. Where spirits do the heavy lifting, not the body, but the body you leave behind must be whole never the less. In order to travel, we had to restore your old form, just enough to push you over. Should everything go to plan, when you return, you will be powerful enough to bring yourself back completely.” Isis explains, “Back there, the coin was locking you down, like an anchor. Your spirit wasn't going to just let go either, it took some convincing.” Isis answers, leaning back on her elbows to take in the river before them.

In the distance, a magnificent sun burns billions and billions miles away but whose light still manages to reach the water of the river. Painting it in a varied amount of colors, some that Laura has never seen in water before.

“Think of something that makes you want to breath again...” Laura parrots back with heavy sarcasm.

“Your spirit was holding onto that body and coin like a grudge. I could not bring both here. Your spirit needed to find a reason to let it go. To have a little faith...” Isis's reply trails off, eyes bright with excitement and knowing. It made Laura feel like her skin was going to break out in itchy hives.

“Oh, god. You know.” Laura hisses.

Isis rolls back on the force of her laughter. Clapping her hands in utter delight as Laura does start to turn red. Blotches of red across her chest and cheeks. She was so unused to the sensation that she can’t help but wince.

Blushing made everything feel too hot and tight.

“Of course I knew! The pair of you are so wrapped around each other, like snakes in heat. Biting and spitting poison but never the less twisting closer and closer together. Neither aware, or caring but doing it all the same because you can't help yourself.”

“Please...don't.” Laura unashamedly begs.

Isis sends her a dull look of annoyance. “You can't be that surprised. He's been the start of your story, the old one and the new. It's him that has walked along side you. More than once directing you back on the path when it was against his best interest.”

The Goddess then stands up, bending to offer a helping hand to Laura.

“Sometimes that's all you need you know, to be brought back. Just someone on the other side, who is waiting for your return. Who would willingly take you, dead or alive. Who would give up everything to just let you try, because they simply believe you should have the chance. That kind of loyalty is power.”

“I believe in you, you believe in me.” Laura says, “Fuck. That line is really coming to bite me in the ass.”

The goddess next to her laughs, “It's part of the story too now, I'm afraid. As much as your death or his coin. This truth is between your lungs, his and yours, and it beats together now. Calling to the other, because that's just how these things go. The sun has the moon, the light has the dark or the seas have land. A witness, a partner. Sometimes that means a brother and sister, other times it means a husband and wife. All those bonds, all those secrets. All those shared drops of spilled blood and creation of bruises. Did you think those never meant a thing?” She catches Laura's ashen expression and sighs. “That is why it is dangerous to touch something you believe in. You make yourself apart of it.”

“And if I don't want that?” Laura pushes, because she still has trouble swallowing the truth. Even when it's her's. “If I don't want him, or to share a story with him?”

Isis lifts her head to the sky, as if needing the strength before titling her head back to look Laura in her eyes, “If a god was to come down right now, split you down the middle and further, do you think he would let you float away or do you think he would grab as many pieces as he could and bring you back?”

“He'd do it while bitching up a storm. At me.” She answers without thinking.

“That is why I knew I could help you. You'll need someone like him.” Isis admits, leading Laura across the desert. Towards a familiar little area of sorts. Anubis and his scales. Only this time, he was joined by new and old faces. Nephthys, Horus and Ibis were there, but so was now a tall, lanky woman who looked at her with bright gold eyes and a frown. Next to her, a taller man who looked like an older copy of Anubis but with none of his disposition, waves at her with a smile.

She waves back.

As they get closer to the group, dread starts to build in her.

“What is this?”

Nephthys walks forward to take Laura's other hand.

“Your retrial.”

#mad wife fic #mad wife #Madwife #mad sweeney x laura moon #mad sweeney #laura moon

7 notes · View notes

scripted-dalliances · 5 years

Text

Rest In Peace: Chapter Sixteen

Title: Rest In Peace

Chapter: 16

A/N: I feel like I need to make a note of why I use Anubis rather than Jacquel. It’s mostly because Laura’s first intro to him is in death, where I feel he is more “Anubis than Jacquel” and same with Ibis, as meeting him in the funeral home.

+ I also want to explain of where Isis and Laura are by the end of this, if any of you have read the book, you’ll recall Shadow hanging out “behind the curtains” -where he eats and drinks, and generally has a rad time without Odin. This is what I sort of imagine the after life of the Egyptian gods is.

“Stories,' the green-eyed Sigrid said, unperturbed, 'are like prayers. It does not matter when you begin, or when you end, only that you bend a knee and say the words.” -Catherynne M. Valente

In the new room, Nephthys is a welcomed old face, one that Laura finds herself needing as Anubis coldly directs her remove her clothes and get up on the table. He is all business, as he moves around the room, while the two women talk.

“You knew your sister couldn't bring me back to life.” Laura says, kicking off her shoes and socks. Nephthys bends to pick them up, “You could have said.”

“I said she wanted to help, and she is.” The goddess replies, helping Laura to remove her shirt, jeans and everything else. Folds them as if precious and sets them aside. “We all will. It feels...”

“Good.” Anubis finishes, coming up behind them. An old set of tools in a thick leather case in his hands. Old enough that Laura thinks they should be a in a museum. “To work together as a family, to all play our part in a new story. We have not been afforded much of those roles.”

Laura doesn't really know what he means by that. So she simply gets up on the table and attempts to relax. The room is just a sterile as the funeral home, but far less homey. Her eyes struggle to take in everything, and not feel like the corpse she clearly is, but eventually the duo start working and she finds herself more entranced by the two working around each other.

Before, Ibis had helped, but even his presence had been off kilter in the sense that he mostly stood to the side, filling her head with false incentives.

Ibis had been commentary from the peanut gallery who kept her distracted. For what end, Laura doesn’t know, but at least here she knows that is not the case. Nephthys is a stark difference, as she takes one side of Laura while Anubis takes the other. Letting silence fall over them like a blanket, only occasionally broken by one needing a new tool.

Together, they work about her. Cleaning and fixing her broken and rotting body. Anubis undoes the stitching on her arms, belly and chest. Takes the miles of blackened thread and throws it away.

For each one he undoes on her, Nephthys slides her hands beneath the opened skin and gently performs her funeral rites. Taking time to remove the parasites and rot that infect Laura's bones and flesh. Normally the body would be fresher, the organs completely removed but this is different. The end they prepare her for isn't the customary type.

When all is done, Nephthys sews her up with gold thread, heavy but so fine and thin that it reminds Laura of a spider's silk. How she manages to keep it wrapped around a needle is magic in itself.

They each take the time to scrub away the dirt and grim from her skin, from under her nails and brush her thick matted hair until its glossy. It makes Laura feel like a little girl again, letting herself be taken care of.

For a long time the duo works in silence, before Laura finds herself breaking it.

“Does she know?” Laura questions. The two gods stop and look at her, “That I tried to rob her? The casino.”

Anubis goes back to his work, but Nephthys stops and peers down into Laura's eyes.

“She does. Though for what it is worth, you did not physical do so, nor did you succeed. My sister does not hold this against you, she has always been very good at seeing past crimes to the person behind them. She knows why you tried.”

Anubis shifts awkwardly, and after a long moment, speaks too. Voice softer than Laura expects as he fixes her nails.

“Once upon a time, Isis had a brother. Set was messy, chaotic and ambitious to the point of ruin.” Anubis looks at Laura pointedly, “He was also a loud mouth who never learned.” He says this in a tone as if he is talking about her. “-but no matter what he did, she still called him brother.”

“So, you're saying she is helping me because I remind her of her brother?”

“No. I am saying she heart big enough to forgive even the worst crimes.” At this, Laura glares and he mirrors the expression. “Do not make that face, it might stay like that. Rigor mortis is a thing you know.”

“What he is trying to say, very badly, is that she loved her brother. Always.” Nephthys runs her nails through Laura's hair. Fixing it to perfection. “In the grand scheme of things, Odin stole something far more precious from us. He did it with the selfish design for himself, right in our town, to one we considered ours. No offense, but comparatively, your crimes are of a child stealing a cookie before dinner. We might use money to garner attention, but we are not attached to it, not like mortals are.”

“Thanks.” Laura replies glibly.

Nephthys catches her tone, “What did you expect? To be punished indefinitely for such a soft crime?”

“Shadow did time for that soft crime, I made the biggest mistake of life after it. Everything even slightly good in my life went to shit after I tried to rob this place…so yeah. Maybe I was thinking it was borderline divine punishment.”

Nephthys glances at Anubis, whose gaze is fixed on the glue he is using on Laura's nails. Determining that he is distracted, she leans down to whispers mischievously in Laura's ear.

“Want to know another secret?”

“Always.”

“Those scales, the ones you are so scared of? Don't weigh crimes like you think. It weighs your heart, and that is a very complicated thing. It holds all your secrets. Every lie. Every truth. All the little dirty details, all the moments you felt light and loved.” She rests her weight on her arms to better peer into Laura's eyes. “All the times you felt alone and hurt and didn't say a word. Your heart has taken those seeds of pain, sowed it within and kept them.”

“This doesn't sound like a secret.”

“The secret, impatient one, is that it takes a great deal of sin and malice to tip those ugly scales. Guilt makes a heart heavy, but the worst ones are the hearts that feel no guilt at all for the terrible things they’ve done.” She reveals, “Only you can know the truth of your heart without those scales, and it is no secret that you judge yours too harshly.”

There is a knock at the door. Disallowing Laura any chance to comment on the state of her heart.

It was time.

“We'll have to take it out. The coin.” Isis told her, watching Laura come before her. They are back in the grand marble ballroom, alone. Above their heads, the night is black, without even the smallest star. Looking up at it, Laura feels as they've left Earth, like they are alone on another planet.

“I will be dead if you do. Seems a bit of a step back.”

Isis takes her hands and drags her to the center of the room. The white dress Nephthys had dressed her in was glowing in the darkness of the starless sky. There, at their bare feet is a pale gold dish, with just a hint of water nestled in the bottom. It takes Laura a second to register that it was moving. Soft, gentle waves so small a raindrop would disturb it. The mock ocean in the pan kept her attention until Isis gripped her hand hard in her own.

“The water will carry your spirit out of this body, and you will be put in a sort of...spiritual body. It will hurt. Forming a spiritual form is easier than bringing you back from the dead, but I can not promise it will not hurt. The stronger the spirit, the harder it is to pull it away.” Isis tells her, rolling her shoulders and closing her eyes. “Now, close your eyes. Do not open them until I tell you. Clear your mind and think of what makes you want to breath again.”

Laura was in process of closing eyes, but suddenly finds herself glaring.

“Low blow. We both know I don't.”

Isis tilts her head, purses her lips and mockingly replies, “Oh? Really? Nothing comes to mind?”

Laura wants to tell her, no. She really fucking doesn't. She's a dead woman, with an ex-husband with no money, no job and smells like rotted pork chops. She wants to tell Isis that she's got nothing but her own selfish desires at this point, to want to feel whole and warm again.

-but then she thinks of Mad Sweeney's massive warm hands on her hips, lifting her like a precious bubble of spun sugar. Making her feel not a beat of a heart, but a gust that swelled her lungs. How she inhaled and exhaled in the aftermath.

-but then she recalls of touching him as he slept, when he shined so softly she could almost taste the light on her tongue. Making her blood boil and coat the very inside of her veins with liquid sunlight; the soft, perfect Sunday morning kind, where you felt like it was wrapped around your whole body. How she had nearly kissed him out of desire.

-but then she recalls his angry rant, of him telling her she has him. His luck, his heart and faith. How he had said with such fury, such hate, that it was just enough to make his confession honest. How he told her in not so many words he loved her, spitefully and painfully, and she believed him.

“Oh fuck.” Laura whispers to herself, shutting her eyes in pain as she becomes more and more aware of revelations. Of herself; when had she stopped wanting to slit his throat every time he spoke? When did she start smiling at his stupid insults? Before their deal? Before she slayed Odin to save him?

Of him; His antics, he soft tones and side glances. How he complained and bitched, dragged his feet, but never once lead her astray. Never tricked her or mentally fucked with her until she thought she was better off dead.

Oh, he repeated himself almost daily on why she should leave Shadow, to give up on that dream, darlin' cus it's deader than you. He told her many times to give up her old life, her husband and the dumb mission to save him. She had his coin, yes, but it was clear if he only waited another week or two, she would have rotted to pieces just like he warned.

Instead, he continued to try. One dark car trip after another.

All awhile, shedding coins of knowledge before her. Secrets of himself, of her and what was to come. He didn't have to do that, he could have lied. Could have tricked her from the start, and she wouldn't have known until it was too late.

She had already lost the coin once, and it was in his hands, and yet he still reached into her filthy corpse and put it back.

Like she deserved another chance, like he wanted her to have her vengeance and come out on top of this whole damn war. To get not just her life back, but to teach these new gods a lesson only a sacrifice could.

Because for whatever reason, he believed she deserved it, and so she did.

Water crashes against her feet, enough to make her cry out.

The water is warm, and rises quickly. The only reason that she does not move or kick away is because Isis still has not let go. Even when the water floods around her, hitting her ankles, knees and hips within seconds. Try as she might to ignore the sensation and keep her eyes closed, it was a struggle.

Mind on high a alert and wariness growing. She wanted to know what the fuck was happening, because how could there be ocean tides in this room, how could it feel like nothing was below them, how could it not drown them in seconds?

The water covers her head, and she chokes.

It's a violent sudden awareness that has her body clenching forward on instinct. Pitching her out of Isis's grip but into her arms. Beneath the water, they sink together, with Isis's strong grip holding on to Laura's shuddering body. As it rocked, twisted and shook.

As it splinted apart.

Laura’s mind races, trying to understand the reaction at all, she doesn’t need air, she has drowned before. Under Mad Sweeney’s furious grip at that, but this feels different. Less like drowning and more like splintering. More like the water was filling her body and pushing her out.

This was her spirit forced to leave a shell it didn't want to let go of.

The pressure builds and builds until finally, it happens.

She breaks.

Her lungs popped first, her spine bent unnaturally in agreement. She became a doll with cut strings in Isis’s hold.

Every nerve screamed in tormented harmony with her bones that cracked over and over like eggs against a bowl. That quick and easy.

The rest of her organs were slower, they took their time with her pain. Waiting their turn between cracks to slide in. A bloat of the bladder, a pinch of the kidney while her guts twisted in their own merry away. Without much care where and when she felt the pain, only that she knew it was always happening. A background pain that would soon also drown under the loudest of all.

Her heart.

It beat once, then twice.

By the third beat, she is breaking the surface of the water. Taking deep, shuddering intakes of air that burn, but just as quick heal and fill her lungs too.

Everything aches like a new sickness, but she reveals in it.

“Open your eyes, Laura.” Isis whispers, still holding her. Letting the girl lean against her in the great waters of this unknown world. Together, their hearts beat slow and sure. An echo to the other, in that way only a heart can, to prove it's existence to all. That only it can provide the predictable beats for.

Laura opens her eyes to the same endless galaxy from her first time in the after world and breathes.

If this is life in the after world, she finds she doesn’t mind it.

Later, they walk hand in hand, out of the ocean to a warm beach white sand, black mud and grass so green it redefines the meaning of the word. It's only when they are climbing out of a bank, when she turns to look behind her that she realizes the ocean wasn't an ocean at all.

It was a river.

#madwife #mad wife #mad sweeney #mad sweeney x laura moon #laura moon #madwife fic #laura x sweeney

8 notes · View notes

scripted-dalliances · 5 years

Text

Rest In Peace: Chapter Fifteen

Title: Rest In Peace

Chapter: 15

“Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing.” -Fyodor Dosteovsky

Once Laura has disappeared and the doors close shut, Isis wastes not a second. Stepping closer and looking up at him with pure bemusement, like she's seconds away from laughing at him in his face. He fucking hates it.

“Stop it.” He growls.

“Just answer me this, did you love her before your journey brought you together or after?”

Sweeney, thinks back. Remembers the night he caused the car to swerve, right off the road. How the moon hadn't help hide a single thing. The broken metal, the twisted bits that littered the ground like bread crumbs to the crime.

Crimes.

He taken two lives that night, and he had to bare witness to both for that old bastard. He had to watch the not-so-innocent fool of a man choking and gurgling on his own blood. Had to double check the girl at his feet was the right one. He remembers her as small and dead, and a cosmic joke considering what was in her mouth. The thing that probably manage to really kill her more than the crash.

An unwilling sacrifice that met an undignified end.

Nothing about her was pretty in that moment; she was bent, broken and sad.

Nothing about her he knew was any better, she was a fool, a cheater. Suicidal.

Yet, Mad Sweeney remembers gazing down at her pale face; so unbelievably uncanny to all the ones he used to love and how quick it happened. How unprepared and terrible it was to feel it creep into his heart.

He fell in love with her between one breath, and her last.

-only it hadn’t been the kind of poems and softness. It wasn’t romantic, couldn’t be in any sense of the word when he still had her blood on his hands. It was the kind of love that is handed to you, like a death sentence, that heavy and unyielding. That feels like a fucking curse because you don’t want it, never wanted it, and yet it’s there regardless. Put upon you, shoving aside any claims of rationality right out of your very head.

It’s the kind of feeling that haunts you for the rest of your life.

It’s the kind of love that makes you believe, because how the fuck could there not be another force in the world? Someone had to be taking the piss and having a laugh and it sure as fuck wasn’t him.

-because it as a joke, had to be. One centuries in the making.

He remembers it had hurt, to feel so unbalanced. Still hurts. Like a shackle and chain had tightened around his throat, like a bullet had wedged under his ribs and found a home in his heart, making every breath a struggle. Even the salt of his bones had screamed at him, that he had done something wrong that night.

-but he had been drunk and weak, alone for so long; so fucking desperate for an end that he had dragged himself across an ocean to cling to what little faith would have him in this new and terrible land. He had so little pride, that he had made a deal with the first ugly devil to offer him an ending that he was too much of a coward to seek by himself.

By the time he had Laura Moon at his feet, he was already six feet deep in a grave of his own making.

A ghost of who he was, who had become accustomed to cutting away pieces of himself to better fit into the world that did not want him than to fight it. Who had spent more than a fair amount of time and luck on absolutely fuck all, on fights that didn't matter, that accounted for nothing in the end.

By the time he looked at Laura and remembered what it was like to have a heart -the bitch, the fucking bitch just had to do that to him, in the nth fuckin hour of his end- he had lost everything that had ever mattered to him.

First his wings, then his crown and belief.

But damn her, damn her, he had killed her and she had still got in a hit that left him in fucking miserable pieces.

If there was a hint of Essie in her, if there was a hint of Eorann lingering beyond the veil, then maybe he wasn't as alone as he thought he was. Maybe there was another chapter left in him yet.

Sweeney had been so near his goal that he could almost taste it, until he took one gander at the girl; dead by his hand, by Grimnir's command, by fate connecting her to Shadow and felt it all turn to ash in his mouth.

He had cut down his chance at a future and knew it.

Mad Sweeney pulls a crumbling cigarette to his lips and lights it.

“Aye, I did. Of course I did. I'm an unlucky bastard aren't I?”

#madwife #mad wife #mad sweeney #mad sweeney x laura moon #laura moon #laura x sweeney #madwife fic

7 notes · View notes

scripted-dalliances · 5 years

Text

Rest in Peace: Chapter Fourteen

Title: Rest In Peace

Chapter: 14

“As the Bacchae knew, we always tear our Gods to bits, and eat the bits we like.” -Adam Gopnik

Laura would spit fire if she could.

“How,” It's not even a question, she's too mad for it to be anything but a wanton demand of a child. “Please tell me where the fuck are the directions on that, cause so far, no one seems to know and google isn't bringing anything up.”

For her credit, Isis doesn't look offended as she should at Laura's indignant rage. Instead she leans back and seemingly thinks long and hard about her next words as Laura moves to pace the room.

“You have already started the process.” Isis points out, “When I touched you, that was just a bit of light that was already in you. Not a lot, admittedly but it was there. Whatever you've been doing to foster that, I suggest keep doing it.”

Laura cuts a look at Sweeney. He looks ready to throw himself out the nearest window. She almost wants him to try so she could have a reason to throttle him.

“And If I said whatever that was...was dangerous?” Laura starts and Sweeney stills.

Isis raises a brow, “I would question if your life wasn't worth it.”

Fuck.

Laura sits down. This time, nearer to the leprechaun than the goddess. After a long, silent moment, she ends up elbowing Sweeney in the side. Forcing him to squawk and swear like a too tall chicken who just had their feathers pulled out.

“Fuck you, Dead Girl!”

“Tell her!”

“I repeat, Fuck you!”

Laura’s features twist in anger and so she twists his flesh between her fingers.

“FUCK!”

“Tell her or I will personally make you the first man in the world to be sent to the emergency room for a purple nurple!”

“Fine!” Mad Sweeney huffs, obviously knowing she wasn't kidding. He takes a deep breath, nervously pats his thighs and then sadly attempts to pretend this isn't a big deal. Fooling absolutely no one. “I...that is to say...We entered a sort of deal with the other, yea?”

“Well, that doesn't sound shady as fuck.” Laura whispers sarcastically mainly to herself, before addressing Isis. “I figured if I gave him a boost belief, it would in a round about way make the coin stronger. In turn making me last a little longer in the world until he could find someone to bring me back. Payment would be that I would be a full time lucky charms pusher. Spread the word, write a book or a blog. New faith without the new gods.”

“Except, the words you used were, If you believe in me, I'll believe in you.”

Isis makes a small noise of smothered laughter. “Oh.”

“Oh what?” Laura needles, but Isis isn't looking at her. She's looking over to Mad Sweeney who has all but curled up on himself. Crossing his arms across his chest and slouching so far down that his stupidly long legs hit the edge of the end table before them.

The longer Isis stares, the more fidgety Sweeney gets.

Laura begins to get nervous. “He said it connected us. Two sides of the same coin, believer and belief.”

“He isn't wrong, but that's when he assumed that coin was his magic and his magic alone. He wouldn't have any idea that it was any other way would he? That it was your power awakening, transferring and building on his luck. Only that it isn't just luck and…let me guess, that the bond is already proving to be stronger than anticipated?” Isis questions sweetly at the leprechaun and Mad Sweeney’s shoulders twitch and then like lightning the answer becomes clear to her and only her, “Ohhhh.”

“I wish you'd stop making that damned noise.” Sweeney bitches, shoulders practically past his ears.

Isis ignores him and gives Laura her attention, “It's a dangerous thing, bringing back the dead. Involves a lot of...work, not just faith.” She says the word with an implied tone of importance. “Power a part of it, will another. Just like a body is made up of a complicated set of inter-working organs, the spirit is much of the same. I am not as strong as I used to be, I can not fill and replace all the parts you have lost and need, Laura. Not by myself, the only person who can is you. Still,” Isis gives her a blinding smile.“ I can help, if you'd like. You just have to trust me a little.”

Laura does not trust that smile, but she finds herself nodding.

“It will cost you.” Isis says after Laura agrees to give whatever the Goddess has in mind a try. They are moving on from above the casino. Now on their way into the belly of the building, under the hard earth to places she never knew existed when she worked here. It's not a maze, but it's long winding tunnels of hallways do not make it easy to traverse unless you know where you are going. So Mad Sweeney and Laura stick close to the small woman.

“I'm willing to pay whatever you want.” Laura bluntly admits, and Sweeney glares down at her.

Those are pretty dumb words to promise around gods, after all.

“It is not me you'll be paying.” Isis points out, just a tad gleeful. “I think you still work under the impression that things happen without a reason.”

Laura crosses her arms, “Sometimes things do.”

“No, not every single thing comes about due to godly intervention. A lot of it is just the natural order and chaos of the world fighting for bites of the same bone but there is always a reason, be it kind or cruel. Bad or good, for life or death. There is, as your tall friend said, two sides of the coin when it comes to anything in this universe. And the universe needs a bit of order, just as much as it needs a bit of chaos to keep going after all, but if you are clever enough to know how both work, you can use it to give you what you want.”

“You have to play the game to get a chance to win.” Sweeney gruffly replies, as they turn a corner to another long stretch of hall way. No windows or doors, for what seems like miles. This far deep, it feels like they are taking a stroll right into hell. “My coin, is what has been helpin' her to win so far then?”

Isis nods, “Helping, but it isn't going to bring her back on it's own, there are limits. We need something bigger, and the universe will not give you life for nothing, it will want it's pound of flesh and if you aren't careful...it will take more than that.”

Laura frowns, feels like she is hearing the equivalent of fine print. “I don't mind paying, like I said. Whatever this stupid universe wants, that it hasn't already taken, it can have. Just as long as it isn't me on my hands and knees married to Jesus or something.”

Mad Sweeney snorts deliberately in Laura's direction, and she finds herself making a pinching motion towards him as a threat to keep him from speaking. Whatever stupid little comment he wants to make, he can keep buried.

“It's about balance.” Isis says in finality on the subject as their journey comes to an end, leading them into a large ballroom of white marble. It holds no decoration, no elaborate lighting but it's otherworldly in it's shadowed brightness. Isis allows them a moment to take it in, hands on hips as she looks up. There in the distance above them, is a glass ceiling, framing the moon. In the daylight, Laura imagines it is even more impressive.

Across the room, awaits a familiar face.

“Yo.” Laura greets the god of death. Anubis frowns at her lack of respect but gestures with his head a small nod of sorts.

“Laura Moon.”

“McCabe, actually. You and your brother's did top notch work but it still couldn't keep my marriage alive.”

For his credit, the god of death seems to acknowledge his misdoings. Managing to look both apologetic at her and then pointedly at Mad Sweeney, “Not every man can handle death easily.”

“Oi, don't be lookin' at me like that, death breath.” Sweeney snaps, irritated but it is mostly because of his new nervous state of being. This is dangerous game after all, with big bad gods of old, the kind even Odin was careful not to fuck with. “I ain't exactly been happy to deal with her, and her smell of rot up my nose.”

“Fuck you.” Laura squeezes in before Anubis also replies with a, “Yes, we will have to deal with that.” at the same time. Making Isis chuckle and sweep her way over to him. Slipping her hand in his, making Anubis tilts his attention back down to her.

Standing next to each other, they look nothing alike. Not like Horus did to her, but there is enough love in Anubis's gaze that it's not even a question that he does so like a son would a mother.

“We need to prepare her body, Nephthys is back and will assist you.” Isis says, and if he's offended by the demand, he doesn't show it. “Laura, if you would. Please follow Anubis. Mad Sweeney, come with me?” She gestures on wards to another seating area. This time far more lavish, in thick pillowed low couches and soft surfaces of every kind littered about. It looked like a set of a roman orgy, minus all the players.

For his worth, Mad Sweeney doesn't automatically sit down, first he glances at the dead girl and waits patiently. He hasn't forgotten her words from earlier, when he tried to obey Isis by leaving her. This time, Laura seems to have accepted their parted ways.

“Don't do anything to fuck this up for me, Ginger minge.”

“Make sure they remove all the maggots, Dead girl.”

Laura flips him the bird, and he watches her walk away.

#mad wife #Madwife #mad sweeney #mad sweeney x laura moon #laura moon #laura x sweeney #madwife fic

10 notes · View notes

scripted-dalliances · 5 years

Text

Rest In Peace: Chapter Thirteen

Title: Rest In Peace

Chapter: 13

A/N: Heavy Isis chapter I know, but I love her and that’s not even an apology. Just a fact.

“Its only intangible ideas, concepts, beliefs, fantasies that last. Stone crumbles. Wood rots. People, well, they die. But things as fragile as a thought, a dream, a legend, they can go on and on. If you can change the way people think. The way they see themselves. The way they see the world. You can change the way people live their lives. That's the only lasting thing you can create.” -Chuck Palahniuk

Isis moves slowly, to sit next to Laura. Gently reaching out, as if she was a feral animal about to bite if pushed too far, and cups their hands together.

“You were mine, you know.” The goddess says softly, and before Laura can argue, continues, “I know you don't believe in me. In who or what I am. That even now you aren't taking this without a grain of salt, and that's fine. But it's the truth. You were my acolyte.”

Laura makes a face, confused but annoyed all at the same time.

“You worked here, for years. Paying your own time and attention, helping others do the same. That made you connected to this place, to me. That is why Anubis came to you in the afterlife. We might not be what we were, but we will always be guides for the dead of the ones we consider ours.” Isis directs her gaze over Laura's shoulder, to the window that looks down upon the casino.

It's a busy day, there are hundreds of patrons milling about. Even now, some of them glow with hints of luck she's blessed them with. Fleeting and reused, but just for a moment; they are just that, blessed.

“This place? This casino, and many like it, are my temples. Maybe it's not what most have in mind when it comes to worship. There are no pews, none of the mortals down there know our true names or build alters in their homes. They do not come to us directly for guidance or protection. There's not one of them who will seek to have their bodies persevered after death like the old ways...but that doesn't make this place any less of a temple, of them any less deserving of our guidance.” Isis explains lightly, voice distracted at the view below until finally she comes back to herself. Reminding herself why she does this. To survive.

“Every day hundreds of them flock here, because they want to change their fate with just a roll of the dice or the right play of cards. They enter my doors, they walk among the painted walls of my children and pay homage with their time and money for our attention to help them achieve this. They exchange the currency of their modern dollars for the belief of currency. This chip is worth fifty. This one for five hundred and so on, same chip, same little bit of plastic but they believe it's worth more and so it is. Some of them will get lost in this, some will lose everything for a chance.” Isis casts her eyes downward, “I am aware there is a level of lowness to this, it's a trick after all. We take more than we give, but I am not above a good trick to get what I want.”

There is boldness in her now, it shines in her when she finally looks up.

“That is what I mean by strong, Laura. Strength comes in many forms, whether it be in body or mind. In heart or cleverness. Sometimes it's just as simple as to keep going when you are told to stop. When the world has cut off your knees and left you to bleed. To keep going when you are numb, tired or even dead.”

Laura shakes her head, refusing to listen. “No. It's the coin. It's just the coin-”

“It was you.” Isis grips her hand harder, “Listen to me, Laura. Put aside your previous ideas of who you were. Death changes us all, and you are no longer some helpless murdered girl with nothing and no one by your side. You were not just given that coin, accidentally or otherwise, it was pulled to you. It melted through grave dirt, coffin wood and bones for a reason, because you called it. I have heard what happened between you and Anubis, do you think that was something that happens often?”

“He was a jerk. I stand by what I said.”

Isis grins in delight at her answer, “Good. He wouldn't be impressed with you if you backtracked now. Not many have looked him in the eyes and told him to go fuck himself then vanished without his say so. I think even under his outrage, he likes you.” She tilts her head not so discreetly towards Sweeney. Who has uncharacteristically been silent this whole time. “He isn't the only one. I find myself liking you too.”

There's a hint of a smile on Laura's lips, like she isn't used to this praise but warms to it never the less. A desert flower soaking up a single drop of water.

-and the response pulls at Isis like an archer pulls at the strings of a bow. Precisely and with measured power. Of course she has fondness for Laura McCabe. Who is small and bitter, like a still growing berry. Who hides away her light -and yes, she has it, but it's hidden so far deep that it's no surprise she thinks she has none. Laura isn't built to be liked or loved easily, she is a challenge and for that she reminds Isis of her lost brother so much that it hurts.

Because Set too, had balanced himself on the best and worst aspects of himself daily. Of being too clever, ambitious and devious to be kept in check, too known for his transgressions of past to ever be properly worshiped by the masses. He was their chaos, and never apologized for it, but that made him a very lonely god in the end. There were times she wished or begged for him to change, like they all had, to survive this new land. Far from the Nile, further still from the lands and people who knew them best.

Set had always been even more stubborn than herself, he had no mother's heart. No wife to sway him. In times he could be as heartless and cruel as any desert, unwilling to bend to anything but his own wants and needs. In that regard, she had been proud as much frustrated.

He had been strong and bitter enough to last where others had fallen, but there had come a day when he too fell. Up until his last breath, he was still the brother she loved, who would have rather try and eat the sun than submit falsely to world that did not want him as he was.

It's only now she is thankful he never dared to bend. His strength and faith in himself, restored her own. Made her wiser, and prouder to know his story, to be part of it. In her heart now, she knows she carries pages of it. Perhaps one day, when the time is right, she'll be able to stitch them back together and bring him back.

Anything is possible, because death is never as final as anyone thinks. It can be challenged, it can be overcome and conquered. Ghosts sneak between the folds of the universe just as easily as children do between curtains, memories of the past will always echo and find homes in the future. All it takes is a bit of magic, a clever enough name and a good story to tell.

The universe hungers for a good story, like nothing else, and will always make allowances for the best.

But even a God must learn that the hard way, what makes for a good story.

“I still don't understand,” Laura says, breaking Isis from her thoughts. “I mean, okay so maybe Anubis came to get me because I worked for you, but that doesn't explain the coin bit. Not really. You and your sister both seem to think I would have always come back, that I was meant...to return, but to what? Shadow doesn't want me, Odin is dead and if I can't even be brought back to my normal shitty life, what's the point of me?”

Sweeney makes a pained sound of annoyance, like he's had to bite his own tongue and swallow it. Isis knows without a doubt he's probably chewed it half off already with his attempts to be silent.

Less out of respect for her, and more out of fear for Laura. He clearly has a few choice words for the both of them and their conversation, but aware enough that the tiny dead woman would not want to hear a single word. Regardless if they were in defense or not.

“You have that coin because you are not done with this world and it is not done with you. What has been done to you is injustice, it was cruel and vindictive and it was not Odin's right to pick and pluck you out of the world. You were not his, you were not offered to him for reasons to appease him. You were stolen and cut down because he wanted you out of the way, because he wanted chaos. Worst still he did it without knowing who you were. Who you could become.”

Isis lessens the grip on Laura's hands. Freeing her to reach up and cup Laua’s cheek. Under Isis's thumb, the cold flesh shimmers and flushes. It's not much, just a small push, but it's enough to make Laura gasp with life and for Sweeney to stand to attention.

“It's a mistake he paid for,” Isis says with an pleased tone.

Part of her would have liked to get her own revenge, Odin had stolen something from her. All in all, she prefers it this way. Laura could give Odin the violence he deserved, all while being the last thing he'd ever suspect.

So few men were capable of seeing a girl as anything but, even with a sword in their hand and poison on their lips. Laura had even then, unknowingly changed the script. From the whispers of the gods who witnessed her act, who even now are slowly building a story of a dead girl who turned god slayer.

“I'm sorry to say but I do not that have the power to bring you back.”

Isis goes to pull her hand back, but Laura's holding on. Wrapping her tiny hand around Isis's wrist and keeping her there with steel. No one has dared touch her like this, and perhaps a less understanding deity would take offense, but Isis knows deep down this is not meant to hurt. This is fear and desperation. She can see it in Laura's dead milky eyes.

In her trembling lips as she begs, “I felt it, just now. You can.”

Isis shakes her head and slowly disentangles herself.

“No, I can't. You are no longer mine. That part of you has faded when you died, when you took up that coin and earned your own justice. You are no longer Laura Moon, just as once you were no longer Laura McCabe before that. Just as you shed the role of victim, of sacrifice and buried, you can shed this one. The coin helped you this far, yes, but it does not make your choices. It is you that pushes yourself now. It is you who chases impossible things, who slays gods and carries new faith for hopeless. This?” She points to the life still in her cheeks, fading but lingering enough be a vibrant spot of red on an otherwise pale gray face. “This is not my power. It's yours.”

Laura blinks slowly and rolls her eyes, “Oh fuck. Do not pull a 'oh Dorthy, you had the power to go home this whole time!' shtick on me. Do I click my heels three times to go home or what?”

Isis has to smother down a burst of laughter. Somewhere, in the unknown of what is to come, her brother is rolling around with mirth. He would have enjoyed Laura's salt. “No. Nothing as easy as that, but you, dear. Have already figured out what you need to do, you just have to do it yourself.”

“...What?”

Isis grins viciously, “Stop asking for gods you don't believe in to help you, and do it yourself.”

#mad wife #Madwife #mad sweeney #mad sweeney x laura moon #laura moon #laura x sweeney #madwife fic

9 notes · View notes

scripted-dalliances · 5 years

Note

So, I don't know if you have seen episode 7, and I'm sorry if I'm making you too much of a spoiler but I was wondering something: in this episode we're revealed that Sweeney was Lugh all along. Is that going to play a part on you fic? (Also, great fic btw, love the incorporation of Horus)

No, I haven’t seen it, but I’m part of the madwife tag here on tumblr so I basically got spoiled the second it was out lol Sweeney being Lugh isn’t /really/ part of the story, as I finished this essentially days before season 2 started. Here and there I’ve added pieces as I edited but I’m for the most part ignoring season 2 canon.

And any connections it makes now are merely me getting lucky in terms of knowing what they were going to do lol

+ Thank you!

#Anonymous

2 notes · View notes

scripted-dalliances · 5 years

Text

0bliviousdreamer replied to your post: Rest In Peace: Chapter Twelve

LOVING this fanfic. Keep it up it is very very well written �� Can’t wait for the next chapter!!

Aww thank you so much. It means a lot to hear that!

#0bliviousdreamer

2 notes · View notes

scripted-dalliances · 5 years

Photo

Isis: Goddess of Fertility, Nature & Magic

Goddess of Ten Thousand Names, Queen of all Gods, All Mother.

+ Wife of Osiris + Mother of Horus +

“Isis is an instigator as much as a carer, she is proactive, as such she is defined by Osiris as much as he is defined by her. Without her there is no story.” -Markus Carabas

#gallery #rest in peace #rest in peace face claim #I could write for a century about my love for her #and that still wouldn't be enough #Isis is more powerful than her husband her son and even Ra #and it is proven by everything she does #and in this ted talk I will...

5 notes · View notes

scripted-dalliances · 5 years

Text

Rest In Peace: Chapter Twelve

Title: Rest In Peace

Chapter: 12

“She knew herself, how she had slowly, over years, become a cat, a wolf, a snake, anything but a girl. How she had wrung out her girlhood like death.” -Catherynne M. Valente

Laura has learned not to carry expectations when it comes to Gods.

Odin was just some old drifter, Ostara looks like she could beat Martha Stewart in a home decorating contest any day of the week and Mad Sweeney is six foot and five inches tall leprechaun. Clearly, it wasn't text book mythology rules.

Still, Isis surprises her. Laura had vaguely assumed she would look like an older Nephthys. Just as high cheeked and blessed with model perfected features. No doubt blessed with a matching leg length, to work a powerful goddess stride.

Instead Isis is cute.

Isis is nearly as short as Laura herself, curvy with a heart shaped face. Making her plush lips and large eyes look all that more beautiful. She looks young.

Everything about her seems to glow, but less like something other worldly and more like joy. She smiles brightly at sister and son, bubbling with soft laughter as they talk. Nothing about her movements is overly graceful, she is frantically eager and emotional. In this moment, she is not elegant and stately. Nor is she trying to pretend to like so many other gods and goddesses have tried.

Laura can't help but stare, trying vainly to find the line where goddess and woman meet but in Isis she realizes maybe there isn't one.

In midst her staring, the small goddess finally calms down and cuts the distance between them. The laser focus she once had for her son, now locks on to Laura as if she physically marked a target on the dead girl. Who can do nothing but freeze and accept the woman's space budding onto her own.

“You and I are long over due for a talk.”

Laura pulls back her lips into a dry, tight smile.

“You could say, I've been waiting a life time.”

Isis’s eyes glitter with amusement even when behind them Mad Sweeney groans in mock pain at her line. With a gentle touch, Isis moves her aside to look the leprechaun up and down. Her expression a cross between unimpressed and curiosity.

“Let me guess, Mad Sweeney?”

Laura gets some sick satisfaction seeing him go pale and nervous. He even takes his hands out of his pockets and attempts to look polite.

She wants to tell him that particular endeavor is hopeless.

“Aye.”

Isis nods, “Well, you can go now.”

“What?” Laura surprises herself by asking, not even sure why her voice sounds mad. Fuck, not even the idiot himself questions the goddess. He just stands there looking at the pair of them. “Go where?”

“Away?” Isis answers bluntly. “The conversation we need to have should be a private one, don't you think? At the very least, I assumed you wouldn't want your killer to take part in.” -and before Laura can get a word in to question that, she answers, “And yes, we know that too. Odin’s ravens were not the only things watching that night.”

“She's got a point dead girl…I should go.” He adds.

Laura glares at his stupid sad face, “Shut the fuck up. I did not suffer your presence all this time for you to just leave. Let alone to be dismissed like some serving boy.” Though some private part of her knows this is illogical. That if she finds him so annoying, she should want him gone. But she is a possessive dead girl these days, and she doesn't have much but him and a coin to call her own.

(She refuses to look too deeply into that fact she claims him at all)

Instead she turns her attention back to Isis, “Look, no offense but if anyone is going to tell him to fuck off its me. And I didn't, so he stays, okay?”

Isis’s soft smile blooms into a wider, altogether more wicked one. Like she is utterly pleased by Laura's response, and its only when Nephthys starts to laugh does she remember that Isis loves a good trick.

Shit.

If she had any hot blood in her, it would be rising to her cheeks. Maybe even her ears. Right now, if she were alive. She would be flushed with embarrassment.

But she's dead and thank god for that.

Ha.

In the end, Mad Sweeney and Laura join Isis at a small seating area in her office. Nephthys and Horus leave them, saying cheerful goodbyes that don't seem like such, as if one day soon their paths will cross again and soon.

“Do you want anything?” Isis asks, as she pours herself a glass of red wine from a near by table of assorted drinks. Mad Sweeney approaches cautiously but once he knows this isn't a trick question of sorts, points to the southern comfort bottle. She hands the bottle to him and goes to hand him a glass too but he takes the offered bottle and runs. Choosing to put as much physical distance as he can between him and the goddess without actually leaving the room.

“Am I really that scary?” She asks the dead woman, taking the empty glass with her as she sits down to hand to Laura. Who promptly shoves it under his nose. With a gruff sound of annoyance he pops the bottle open and fills her glass.

Isis watches.

Under her stare Mad Sweeney bristles, wants to tell her “Yes, Jesus fucking Christ, yes! YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY TERRIFYING. AND THIS IS EXAMPLE FUCKING ONE” -but instead he finds his voice and says, “I already have one small overly strong bitch who has my balls in her pocket. Not really in the market for another.”

(Never forget he has a death wish)

Isis chuckles and lets his insult slide, “She has more than just your balls.” She says it with such knowing that it freezes his blood. Like she has reached in with clever hands and stolen a secret he wasn't aware could so easily been taken. “Don't look so surprised.”

Mad Sweeney attempts to keep his shit together, gently coughs and looks at the goddess, “Not surprised, more like mystified.”

“Its common knowledge by now that she is only walking because of your coin. Your luck.”

Do not sigh in relief. He tells himself while taking a long gulp straight from the bottle. Mostly to buy himself an ounce of time and the chance to look away from her iron gaze. It’s easier to breath when he isn’t.

“Is it now? Wasn't aware that Grimnir and you were so close.”

Just like that, the warmth of the room vanishes and Isis's good mood with it. Replacing her joy with fury. She doesn't hide it, the rage is in her like a storm, radiating from her eyes. In her voice.

“I am no friend of your former employee. If I could smear his name from my memory I would. Just as I would burn him to ash. To let my sons consume him whole. If there is a punishment too cruel to name, I want him to experience it a thousand times.” Isis promises this with venom, spits it out like a rattle snake, forcing Sweeney physically leans away from her.

“Aye, alright. So you didn't hear it from him. Am I allowed to ask how you did?”

The goddess visibly cools her anger and shrugs, “Well, the coin is technically one of mine isn't it? Or rather of an Isis.”

Mad Sweeney and Laura both balk, but he more than her as he quickly forgets his place, “No, it ain't. It's mine. Always has been.”

“Always?”

“YES ALWAYS.” He shouts only to promptly remember…not always. He didn't make it after all, he was no black smith. “It was given to me as a gift when I was a king.”

The petite goddess doesn't smile, but her gaze softens. “Like any good coin, it was made to be used. Not locked up in some vault, to collect dust. I am not mad it fell into your hands, I'm sure it was meant to.” From no where, she plucks a similar gold coin into existence. So much like his own ability that for half a second he feels disjointed. Jealous.

“Now, my coins, here and now. Those are just shades of magic I have left to spare to the occasional customer who spends it here. What you have Laura, is a piece of the original Isis's magic. Meant not just to bring luck, but justice. Strength to obtain it. Maybe it was placed on your grave without intent, but I have a funny feeling it would just as easily been rolled out of a pocket. The wind would have carried it out, a stray crow or cat would have helped it along.”

“It's meant for a king.” Sweeney tries again, refusing the idea that this is the part of the story always meant to be told. That she was always meant to have it, because if that is true, it means he was always meant to kill her.

And that is too fucked up for him to take.

Isis chuckles warmly at his indignation, “Is it such a strange thought that a king is sometimes a woman?”

Mad Sweeney bites his tongue is muted anger; he’s not good at it, he knows he looks pissed and he can’t stop tapping his foot, but there isn’t a damn thing he can say or do. Isis isn’t wrong, and nor will she allow herself to be to the likes of him.

He has no power here, no strength and no fucking clue.

“I am not a king,” Laura says in Mad Sweeney’s silence.

Just short of outraged since this isn't answering anything. In fact, it's just drawing in more questions. “I was just a normal, if really shitty and depressed chick who made some terrible choices. So, you’ve got the wrong dead girl, sorry.”

“A king isn’t just someone with a crown, or a throne, sometimes it is earned. You need the right spirit, to be strong enough to handle that kind of power.” Isis explains, taking a sip of her wine before placing it down.

“And who says I have that?” Laura digs, this is starting to hurt. She wanted answers, she wanted to find a way back to life. Not to peel back the pages of her dirty end, she knew that part of the story. She was there, wasn't she?

She knew what fueled her, the sick and overwhelming emptiness that demanded anything and anyone to fill it; of what mistakes came from that sickness, how she had hurt everyone who ever knew her name. She knows all the players involved, of Odin and Sweeney, of Shadow and the ravens who watched.

Just as she knows that part of the story won't change. It's not a rotted tooth she can remove and get away with. It's bone disease, infecting the whole jaw. It's cognitive heart disease. It's apart of her, and it was always going to kill her, one way or another. There is not enough black ink and faith in the world to erase it.

“I know Shadow didn't mean to give me the coin, that I’m only getting this chance because numb nuts over there made a mistake...that even in death, I’m still massively screwing up. I don’t know what am I doing, like at all.” She gives a hysterical chuckle, “I kicked a dude's balls right through his mouth because I didn't know my own strength. I nearly gave my best friend a heart attack because I forgot for one second what I am. I kidnapped a cute little Salim-not Salim for his car, before I knew how much I was getting in the way of his love story. I killed Odin without knowing what that would even mean in the long run. I let Shadow go like it didn't even matter. Even now, I haven't learned anything from this whole mess, haven't found one damn thing that makes sense. Actually, it's been pretty much the exact opposite. I feel like I'm learning less, because now I have to worry about who will eat me because I'm dead or how fucked I am if I’m glued to Lucky Charms over here, and what that means.”

“Oi!” Sweeney hisses, but she ignores him and continues.

“It's obvious at this point, I am doing whatever the fuck I can to keep myself literally together. And yes, I know it's not going well. I know an old Mcdonald's french fry has a better chance of coming back than I do. I am not a fool, you don't have to pretend with me, okay? I don't have the strength of spirit, just like I don't have a light heart. I am not a king or a queen, I am a dead girl who wants something more than nothing.” Laura's voice trembles out of her, and she realizes slowly that Odin hadn't managed to spill all her secrets.

She still has one left.

“And...and if that's not possible. If I can't get it from you or anyone else, fucking tell me now, because I am tired. I am so tired. Of rotting away and shoving air fresheners down my shirt just so ginger bitch over there doesn't puke all day. I am tired of being followed by every fly and insect, of spitting out maggots and embalming fluid. Of feeling my skin tear, of my nails dropping off and my teeth rattling around in my skull.” The truth pours out of her now, as if the stitching on her chest has come undone, “Of sewing myself up, alone in the dark. Like the world’s saddest Frankenstein girl.”

There's silence and then a clack and a clang, a loud ringing after her confession. Someone downstairs has won big time.

Laura wonders if there was a word for suicidal for the already dead.

She refuses to look at Sweeney when she's done speaking. He's been with her all this time; has seen more sides of herself than she would ever be comfortable with from anyone else. Fuck, he might be her last real tie to the world, might be the last thing she believes in but she never ever wanted him to hear this.

Admitting it feels too much like confession.

He has been an unwilling witness to her so many of her failures and some small petty thing in her really wishes she could tell him to fuck off for good.

-but then she would be alone, truly alone.

He's done more for her, bitching aside, than anyone has ever done for her. Maybe she'd never forgive him for his part to play in her death, but worse things have happened to her since then and in the grand scheme of things, she knows he's low on the list of villains.

Unlike anyone else, at least he's been trying, and she has noticed. Not grateful, never fucking grateful, but she's noticed.

Sad truth is, if she can't be brought to life, if this whole journey has been for nothing and her getting the coin at all has just been some cosmic joke -she’s ready for it to be over. Laura is done, and the only reason she’s even trying now is the small hope she has that it isn’t. Not because she deserves it, but because now it’s not just her at stake.

-he is too.

(She is tired enough to admit, that she really doesn't want him gone.)

#mad wife #Madwife #mad sweeney #mad sweeney x laura moon #laura moon #laura x sweeney #madwife fic

13 notes · View notes

scripted-dalliances · 5 years

Text

Rest In Peace: Chapter Eleven

Title: Rest In Peace

Chapter: 11

“Only after disaster can we be resurrected. It's only after you've lost everything that you're free to do anything. Nothing is static, everything is evolving, everything is falling apart.” -Chuck Palahniuk

To rewrite a story, to un-tell a tale, to take back the life of a story; sometimes you have to go back to the beginning.

It’s the hardest thing really, to unravel and undo. It's unnatural in its own right, an act of destruction. A murder of innocent poses that have done nothing but filled up the space, to be a lesson or a comfort. Each word, each letter carefully crafted by eons of combined hearts, mouths and minds. There are layered meanings in these words, history in the named and moments and that is why they can hurt. Why they can topple empires and whole worlds.

How they can take a life. How they can bring one back.

Once upon a time, only a God could rewrite a story.

Nephthys is old enough to recall when the world understood that. Old enough to have forgotten when it changed. When it became easier drawing blood from stone, than to change a story.

She knew that it was not the words that had changed, but the people. Their hearts had became colder and heavier, words had to work twice as hard to pierce it.

To change it.

Nephthys pulls her gaze from the sea of grass fields to the driver, to Laura Moon, Laura McCabe. A once pretty girl, dead with a heart so heavy it's a wonder she moves at all.

Let alone dragged herself out of a grave.

Back in the day, this would have been enough to earn her a new story. One made by her own glory, a testament to her will.

She would have been repainted with kindness and generosity, of a woman wrongly murdered, left behind but reunited nevertheless with her grieving husband.

Because of love, fate or luck. In a good story, they are one in the same.

If there is any justice left in the world, Laura will have her re-telling, she is owed far more than just her life back. If it was up to her, Nephthys would take her hand, kiss her cheeks and call her sister. What other gods could so intimately know death and the life that could be after? What other woman could understand the shadows, casted by chaos and otherwise?

If Nephthys could have had her way, Laura Moon would be hers.

“What's your sister like?” Laura questions in the dark. The hour unknown, but the moon is high and the road empty. Somewhere in the distance Mad Sweeney and her brother relieve themselves. “And don't bullshit me. I have a sister, and she annoyed the hell out of me. First words I would use to describe her is uppity bitch, followed by crazy and addicted to pastels.”

In the embrace of moonlight, Nephthys smiles slowly. There is a complicated understanding between sisters naturally. God or mortal. To know and love, to hate and hold afar because they are so like and unlike you.

Only sisters understand sisters.

“She will not be what you think.” She replies, leaning back. “Stories and history will always paint her as a wife first and a mother second. Few remember who she is without them, but if I had to sum her up…” She pauses to really give it thought before answering. “She is strong. In heart and kindness. Of course she has shades of dark, not one of us is built without it…she can be stubborn. Over protective. A trickster too.”

“A trickster?”

Nephthys chuckles softly, “I told you, she would not be what you imagine. Yes, she loves a good trick. Really loves those, what are they called? Not game shows…prank ones? Punk'd was a favorite of her's for a long time.”

“What? Really?”

The dead girl does not believe her, she can tell by the tone of her voice.

“She used to play such games on our brother. Before he left us. Always tricking or scaring him to tell the truth. I think it reminded her of those days…”

Silence envelops her slowly. She becomes aware of all that she has lost and what she could still stand to lose. There is a storm, a war and all of it will end with more than just thunder and rain. There are new stories being written, and she is unsure if she has a place in them.

Its been a long time since anyone has looked to her for guidance. Laura is probably the last, and her heart breaks for that fact.

“Can I share a secret, Laura McCabe?”

The dead girl blinks her milky eyes, a reflection in the rear view mirror. There is hunger there, for life and knowledge but also an ocean's worth of pain. This girl was starved by the world, long before the rot set in, she was bones and bitterness. Strung together by razor thin trust and hope.

Those things are even sharper now, haven been broken too many times.

“Yeah, go ahead. I'm told the dead keep the best secrets.”

“The right ones do.” Nephthys agrees, “My secret is this, Laura McCabe. You were meant for this. Not this way, with messy Norse gods and war. Not crawling out of your grave and roaming the world with rotted hands and feet...but your spirit has traveled this road before, and it will guide you through this darkness just as it has time and time again. Your end was not nothingness. It was to be a return. You always come back.”

“That's not what Anubis said.” She whispers, voice softer than a lover's kiss. Here in the dark, with just each other, Laura peels back the stone layer around her dead heart and allows Nephthys a glimpse at the young girl she is.

She is lost, so very lost, but she continues and Nephthys own heart aches.

“He was angry. You did not allow him to do his job.” She chastises lightly, “We are not without faults, remember? Even gods can be petty and vindictive.”

This makes the dead girl laugh, “Oh, yeah. Don't need to tell me twice.” Her voice is less gentle, like grave dirt is still trapped in her throat. Like she's trying to push it out with will alone. “What do you mean. My spirit has traveled this road before? No riddles, please. I'm too dead to appreciate them.”

From the corner of her golden eyes, she catches the returning figures of the men. She does not have a lot of time left to explain.

“The best stories never die, Laura. They just get retold. The names change, the place and time. The little details get lost along the way, but the core. The spirit. It nestles in there like a seed in winter. Warm within mother earth until it's time to be told again, and that is what you are now. A seedling of a story with ripped out pages like mangled roots, that no one can recall the ending of. In many cases, this would be the end. A terrible and unjust one. Another story lost, like so many. I would have mourned it.”

Laura places her hand across her chest.

“What changed it? What's the difference, then, how am I different from all the others?” She questions.

Nephthys sighs, “I do not know.”

The car doors open, and Horus flies into her arms once more. She breathes him in, crushes him into an embrace and privately sends out another thank you to Laura with all her heart. She does not know what she has given back to them, and probably never will, but that doesn't mean Nephthys is ungrateful.

“I wish you luck, Laura McCabe. Whatever happens, between here and after.”

In the front passenger side, the tall red headed Leprechaun chuckles darkly, while lighting up a pre-rolled joint. “Aye, she's got all the luck she'll ever fuckin' need.” He says it bitterly, and there's something she's missing between those words. Still, she is not a blind woman.

Perhaps that's the other piece of the puzzle, maybe her spirit has finally found what it's been looking for all this time.

Maybe her roots have finally found a home.

“Are you fucking kidding me.” Laura says when she steps out of the car.

Standing and looking up at her old place of work. The casino she worked in for years, and ultimately lead to her death in a round about way. It was the place she met Shadow, it was the place she tried to rob and failed.

Nephthys stepped up next to her, still holding hands with Horus. “To rewrite anything, it is best to start at the beginning.” She explains, and taking up position of leader to guide them as they headed around to the back of the casino. She can tell Mad Sweeney and Laura are nervous, for many reasons, but it is obvious that the biggest concern is having anyone recognize a dead woman walking.

“Think we could hurry this up? Do the bitchin' inside at least?” He snaps, briskly stepping forward only to pause for Laura anyways. Nephthys notices his hovering, even if he doesn't. It's sweet, if completely unnecessary and if judging by Laura's scowl, unwanted.

With Horus at her side, Nephthys merely starts to climb the stairs to the upstairs of the casino, where the more managerial side of things happen. From here, it's harder to hear the people and the music. The only noise that gets through is the hum of air conditioners on full blast and the occasional lucky winner.

Their arrival has been expected, she can tell by the lack of personal at the front and the single guard at the main door. A built fellow, who nods in her direction and wordlessly opens the door for them.

If Mad Sweeney and Laura are expecting some grand entrance of her sister goddess, they don't get it.

Isis sweeps across the room like a blur of white. Her single focus being the return of her lost child, her son.

Horus meets her half way, wrapping his mother up in a wide spread of his arms like wings. Isis sheds her tears in the hollow of his throat, the words of their emotional meeting are muffled and lost to his skin but it doesn’t matter. They are reunited.

Nephthys has never truly bore any child in her body, but even she can feel their bond, and understands this is two pieces of one heart rejoining. How it radiates between the pair like a golden sun of their own creation. Their love for each other has always been powerful.

Its not always perfect, they are so similar they are bound to clash. Isis is still a mother, ready to tear the world asunder for him. To make a place for him, to make it safe.

Horus is still a young man at heart. He still has restless bones that hunger for unknown glories. He still wants to earn his place.

“Mother.” Horus greets with clear affection and just a hint of pain. Heartbreak for the years they've spent apart because of his madness.

“Son,” She replies in the same manner. She touches his cheek and places a kiss on each of his cheekbones with reverence before turning to greet the other missing relative. “Sister.”

Nephthys goes to them, a hand on Horus's shoulder the other to link her fingers with her sister's. “I've missed you.” She admits. New York had been wonderful, she had flourished but she had never forgotten her roots.

This is where her story always starts, hand in hand with her sister. Let the storms and rain come, let the war raid everything that was and would be; Nephthys is no longer afraid, they can not take this from her.

She is home.

#mad wife #Madwife #mad sweeney x laura moon #mad sweeney #laura moon #laura x sweeney #madwife fic

6 notes · View notes