Upon awakening the next morning, Netta found that the Witches were busy downstairs.

As they hurried, rushing, Netta was at a loss for what it was that she was watching them do in such a hurry until she saw the tinsel that Ophelia was hanging over a doorway.

"You're celebrating... Christmas?" From behind Netta, the anxiety-riddled Erwinnia spoke in a quiet voice.

In spite of how quietly she had spoken, it was Morgan who answered, rampaging past them with an armload of decorations, a gigantic mass of colored lights on a line thrown over her back. "Move, move, move - well, we do it every year, and it's a bit late this year, but everyone's here and it's not as though there are homicidal manaics roaming about freely or anything -"

Wu, appearing from out behind a fake christmas tree that struck Netta as being ridiculous, given their close proximity to real ones, added, "This is a time for thinking happy thoughts and being thankful for family. Oh shit, I've still gotta decorate this thing - mother - fucker."

A loud, raucous laugh bubbled up from Ember, who had been busy garlanding the area above the fireplace in gaudy green and red tinsel. "Yeah, shouldn't have agreed to tree duty, thinking that you could finish it in twenty minutes. Putting that old thing together must have taken over a half an hour, and if those decorations don't look right, Miss Kienna's gonna tan your hide..." She trailed off, throwing her head back to laugh crazily.

Miss Kienna herself - Lucia - appeared, coming out of the kitchen and not seeming to see Netta or Erwinnia, she looked at Ember, her hands on her hips. "I can hear a lot of laughing and not a lot of wor-" She snapped her fingers and turned to look, her eyes widening at the sight of Netta. "Ah, the both of you, you're awake."

Netta turned to look at Lucia and felt a trepidation growing in her. "Hello, Miss Kie- Lucia."

Lucia hurried up to her and examined her face with disconcerting focus.

When she seemed to see something that made her feel contented, she stood back, a smile forming. "You seem to be in better cheer - or, at least, these fools have made spectacles enough of themselves for your amusement. How is your savior doing today?"

Erwinnia approached, her head held low. "H-hello. We didn't have much time last night to explain what happened yesterday -"

"On the contrary," Lucia said, her arms crossed. "I think I heard enough last night to understand what occurred with the Oleander Coven in the last week, while our newest member had disappeared."

"O-oh."

"So, I take it that you'll claim that you had no idea that Neith here was to be sacrificed, you had your hands clean leading up to the debacle."

Erwinnia looked up, her eyes widening considerably, her body beginning to shake. "I would. U-um, if I may, I just want to add -"

"I've heard enough to render my judgement, concerning your fate, following the events of yesterday. Unless, that is, our mutual friend has anything more to add to what I've heard of your behavior..."

Netta could feel her adopted Sister's shocked, desperate eyes on her.

Clearing her throat, Netta made eye contact, as much as she could manage with those cold blue eyes of the head of Coven Gardenia. "She - Erwinnia saved my life. Three times, then -"

Erwinnia coughed, then said, "Four times."

"-Five times."

"That so?" Lucia had raised one of her fine-boned hands up to her chin, resting it on her curled index finger as she turned her attention finally to Erwinnia. Softly, she asked, "Do you truly wish to stay among us? Because I must say, I am adamant that no Witch may join our ranks in a time of war without a Familiar to lend them strength. This is war we have been forced into, not an afternoon chess match."

Erwinnia blinked, her overlarge eyes seeming watery as they swam in desperation. "Oh. I know I don't have anything to offer -"

Lucia raised a hand up to stop her. "However. Certain reservations must be made for innocents caught in the killing line of these maniacs, and you have told me about your background, studying arcane knowledge for half a century." She closed her eyes and smiled softly. "If you are certain that you would throw your lot in with us, I would be glad to have you secured under our wing."

From the tree, Netta could hear Wu mutter, "Always with the dramatics, Miss Kienna."

Erwinnia slumped, relief obvious in her features. "I would be honored to give whatever strength I have with you and yours, Miss Kienna."

"Please, call me Lucia. As for Neith, I would like you to accompany me to a room for a private conversation."

As she had walked up the stairs to the room, Netta had felt a sense of worry and doom coat the back of her throat, erasing even the fleeting joy that she had felt when she had smelled the unmistakable smell of gingerbread from the kitchen down the stairs. It was like she had felt when she had been led to speak witht he school marm after class had ended and having to speak with Hera, all rolled into one.

Once Netta had closed the door behind her, she heard Lucia gently say,"Come. Sit."

Turning around, Netta saw that she had been escourted to a small library. Only, when she took a step in, she felt a minor shock of vertigo assault her. The room stretched and lengthened as she walked into it, shelves on the walls yawned and multiplied, adding more books than Netta felt that she could not count in a day, if she was given the task to. In the distance there was a window that bled in a pure white light, reflected from the snow outside.

Lucia herself sat in the center of the room, in a tall armchair whose top headrest looked like the topmost petals of a curved tulip. She smiled at Netta, and it was hard to see if the warmth reached her blue eyes. "Come, sit." She beckoned to the armchair next to it.

As Netta walked up, she saw that there seemed to be a chair corresponding to everyone in the house - the numbers certainly seemed to match. There were ones that looked beautiful, classical and gorgeous, one that looked as though it belonged from the jazz age, one that looked impractical, bordering on something from a postmodern painting, all jagged angles and grey, washed-out colors.

For some reason, as she approached, she got the sudden impression that the one that sat next to Lucia - a sweet, small thing whose upholstery was a floral burst in muted, homey colors - had to have belonged to Anais.

Netta hesitated a moment before sitting, feeling as though she were desecrating the poor girl's property. Still once she did sit down, she was surprised at how the back of the thing seemed to tenderly accept her form against it, the way that she felt, somehow, safe in it.

"Ah, we do need to go about getting you one of these, soon." Lucia winked at her, tapped at her forehead thoughtfully. "We still don't know quite what to do with that one, but I think that Ophelia would be fine with it going in her room, I suppose. It's not... uncomfortable to you, is it?"

Netta didn't answer at first, then shook her head. "I'm sorry, did you just say that you wanted to get me a chair in here?"

Lucia chuckled drily. "Well, I suppose we'll have to get one for your one remaining original Sister as well, don't we, but I see no reason why not to. Do you?"

Netta shook her head, the added, quickly. "It's - nothing, just that - I don't know, I didn't think you would want me to get too comfortable -"

"And why would you not be made comfortable, in your own home?"

Netta looked up at the older Witch, an unknown emotion rising in her, bringing heat to her face.

"I - home?"

Maybe it was only the remnents of the confused jumble of dark emotions that she had been feeling, but for some reason, she felt that she was near on the verge of tears.

Lucia ducked her head and examined her closely. "Are you alright? You didn't doubt that you're welcome here, did you?"

Netta felt the blush in her face turning into a burning sensation, spreading down her neck. "I - well, I - I caused all of this to happen - all of this... ugliness is because of me..."

Lucia shook her head kindly. "My dear, you came, trying to right a wrong before it occurred, then felt duty bound to remain for our sakes as well as your own. A lesser Witch would have fled rather than chance that she would be rounded up with her brethren. But not you." She paused, seemed distracted by a thought for a moment before she looked back at Netta. "Why not you?"

Netta ducked her head, embarrassed by the intense attention. "I - I didn't think that I was doing anything remarkable."

Lucia stared deeply at her, her quicksilver blue eyes pinning Netta down. "And that is why you're remarkable. But, there are other matters to attend to, no?"

"Such as?"

"Where is your Familiar, dear?"

Netta remembered the Witch's insistence that she be with a Familiar, in order to be able aid in the war. She gulped and looked down at her hands, unsure if she were submerged in a nightmare or something. "He's... gone."

"Gone? My dear, I thought that we spoke about the special relationship that the two of you share -"

"N-no," Netta felt her face tighten as she somehow managed to blush yet more. "he left me, after - after there was an incident at the church where I was kept."

Lucia opened her mouth, then closed it, looking away before returning her gaze, an expression of surprise clear on her narrow face. "I'm afraid that I am unsure of what you mean."

"He left my side. after there was an incident at the church when me and Winnie escaped." Netta bit the inside of her cheek and hoped more than anything that she would not have to describe what she had witnessed with Ash. Or how it hurt her after she had realized that he was gone.

"How?" The word left the matron Witch like a wind to float in between the two. "That - it's impoissible for a spirit to leave his Witch's side. Did you give him a choice out, and he simply chose to leave of your volition?"

When Netta shook her head, the woman took a deep breath, a look of relief clear on her face. "Goddess help me, I thought that you were being serious."

"I assure you, I am!"

Lucia threw her head back and laughed. "My dear, there are laws, like physics, and what you suggested is an impossibility. You need to only go to a quiet spot in the wood-"

The idea of reaching out to Ash was an odd one for Netta to wrap her mind around.

Classically raised; that was how the matriarch of the Coven Gardenia had referred to the way that the Witches of Coven Oleander had found their lessons to be administered.

Most Witches in their world viewed Monsters as an easily accessible tool that were loyal and reliable in the sense that a neatly laid out tool set or a knife set was - if used properly, the tool would always be where you left it and you could grasp it and use it, even in the dark or with your eyes closed. That was because Monsters intrinsically viewed a Witch as a catalyst for their powers - had no choice in the matter.

Even rotting away with misuse by a Witch must be better than the cold stasis offered by nature of late, following the almost complete loss of natural magic in the world.

It had been a major reason for why Netta had long since taken for granted the way that Ash answered her unerringly when she called out for him. He must, after all, in spite what she had also assumed to be his conniving, had no other way of experiencing whatever it was that Monsters felt that was akin to joy.

It was why she had assumed that he had fractured ties with her - after what she had witnessed in the broken cathedral, she assumed him capable of much more than she could have ever supposed.

Still, though, she stood out in the snow, she could not help but feel foolish in her hopefulness. Netta had walked a good distance from the house and wandered freely into the woods.

Thoughts of danger had bothered her as she walked into the very place where Anais had lost her life what felt like a small lifetime ago, but perhaps it was the comfort in the form of Lucia hurrying her out of the door, Netta found that much of her fear was assuaged.

She walked in silence among the snow, felt the cool air of Coven Gardenia's well-protected wood against her unprotected neck in the heavy coat that she wore. Her beath escaped her mouth in a fog, and in a moment she was reminded of an earlier moment that mirrored this one, in a sense.

Chuckling softly, Netta looked forward at the path ahead, unable to keep anxious, fragile hope from infecting her more fully.

Sighing, she said to no one, "I was hoping that I could find you again like this. I don't know how any of this works. I mean, I told you I - cared about you, but I don't know what that means. Love with a human man is supposed to be a different thing from this..." she murmured under her breath, as though embarrassed by what she would say next.

"I'm not certain if I'm just - insane for this. For wanting this."

She felt a wind blow past her, an untamed gust that seemed to be trying to pull her along with it. She looked around frantically, a feeling that she could smell something in that errant wind that reminded her of Him.

She whispered his name, first aloud then in her mind.

Closing her eyes, Netta walked over to a fallen tree, covered in snow. She sat down, tried to figure if she were only on the verge of tears or simply numb.

"You're there, aren't you? ...Aren't you?" When no answer came, Netta ducked her head and looked down at her snow-clad feet. Throwing her head back, she looked up at the sky, saw the stars winking there, oblivious to the cold she was experiencing for the far graver chill that they existed in.

"What do your kind dream of?" She waited, and when no answer came like before, she persisted, saying, "I was raised to think of your kind as instruments. You know this intimately, Ash. ...Is your name Ash?"

When no answer came, she closed her eyes and chuckled humorlessly.

"I'm doing this, and you might not even be there any more. I don't know where you are - if you are. Were you dying, when I saw you last? Are you dead to me, Prince?" Her old, naive nickname for someone who had been her dearest friend as a child, slipped out of her mouth before she had any realization that she had blurted it aloud.

In light even of her admittance of love for him, hearing herself inadvertently saying that name aloud brought deep embarrassment to her.

"Shit."

The sound of the familiar, soft voice just to her right made Netta jolt in surprise. "Just waiting."

Netta wanted to turn to look at him, to see his dear face. The way that his voice sounded, though, she understood in a heartbeat that this Ash was not the one that she had seen in the Cathedral - or, for that matter, the one that she had had sex with. No, that was wrong, and she knew that that was underestimating it.

The man that she had made love with.

The boy that she had befriended a human's lifetime ago sat opposite her on the log, turned opposite her. His voice, that voice that sounded young for what he insisted was supposed to be youthful of age but always seemed more musical, rarer, came from his lips. "I have been... hiding in your subconscious. Listening, thinking."

He paused. "Dreaming, too."

Netta didn't speak at first, afraid that speaking might break the illusion in the moment. Her heart beat at the sound of his voice, she found that she could not put the sound of this gentle sounding child's voice with the image of the Monster that she had seen in the Cathedral. It was only that which gave her the strength to speak at all to him.

When she spoke, it was in a single breath, her words pouring out from a place of deep truth inside of herself. "I missed you."

"Did you?" His voice changed in a moment from warm, soft, to almost sarcastic. "It sounded to me like that Winnie is dead set on you counting my missing presence as a godsend."

Netta burned brightly in a blush that she felt creep down her throat. "You heard that."

"Mmm-hmm."

Around them, the snow seemed to swirl a good distance from them, but did not seem to reach beyond a set radius. Feeling the loss of wind on her, Netta made the split decision to lower the hood that covered her head. She almost turned to look at him, but found that she lacked the strength to shatter the illusion of her old, dear, innocent friend speaking to her with the mental powers of her lover.

Instead, she licked her lips and asked, "Why didn't you return to me? I was - I thought that I was broken. Emotionally, I mean."

"Oh? You thought that you were going through the pain of our severance? Could it be possible that you were only feeling what you thought was the loss of someone that you cared, deeply, for?" his voice sounded soft once more, but his words did not.

"Because let me tell you what I have been considering, what has been bothering me. I have not questioned, for a moment, what I have felt for you, but instead I have been wondering whether or not if I should devour you and take my revenge on all Witches."

Netta shuddered, forced back tears that had threatened to overcome. "How can you be so cruel, even for one of your kind?"

Unwillingly, the tears that she had fought to keep back rolled down her face, and she sniffled, but refused to reach up to push them away. She felt angry, then, for her lack of emotional control with her own Familiar.

She spoke, the words seeming to scald her throat as she said them. "I pledged myself to you, beyond what is sane. What more would you want from me?"

And then he said something that she had known already, deep in a part of herself that she had been unwilling to acknowledge. "I already have every part of you laid bare for me. With the breakage of the chain that you had bound me to, it is only a matter of me deciding to not take advantage of you."

Netta clenched her eyes shut, her face tight in a rictus of emotional pain. "Then why don't you already?" She raised her hands to her head and pressed her fists to her forehead.

"My sanity is slipping away and I wonder often if this is the real world or simply a dream. If this is real and you take me, force me out and take my body as a homunculus for your power, then you will undoubtedly kill Coven Gardenia, but at least - at least I will have the satisfaction and even the hope that you are thinking of me when you do it, of killing all of Coven Oleander. You have played with me like this since were were children, and I cannot take this madness, this obsession, any longer."

She turned around then, whipping, and looked at the boy turned away from her, dressed as though it were summer in suspenders and a newsboy cap, his arms splayed out on either side of him with his hands resting on the snow-laden log. If she cared to look closer, she would see that there was a wide radius of where the snow had melted completely around where he was resting on the log, revealing moss that had lain dormant underneath the cold and snow.

"Kill me now."

She watched as the boy slowly turned to face her, wearing an expression that could easily be mistaken as expressionless, but she was practiced in that old friend's face, could recognize sad kindness in the upward curve of gentle lips, in the way that his deep red eyes seemed to have a viscocity, like honey, in their luminescence.

"Not like this, Nettles."

Netta released the breath that was trapped in her lungs. "Then how?" She cursed herself for asking that question, feeling a trembling that began in the knots of her fingers and her knee's caps and traveled everywhere rapidly.

The boy stood up, took her hand in his and Netta stood up as though he had ordered her to.

"You haven't given everything to me, yet. Not even close to enough." He looked up at her, and something so incongruous from the innocence of his body filled his eyes that Netta almost jerked her hand away from his. "We can come closer to that point, tonight. Let me accompany you to my temple."

Netta could not tear her eyes from those red ones, felt in that moment that she was no longer under the illusion that she was speaking only to the Ash that she had known as a child.

She was speaking to that one, the one that had tormented her for over ninety years, her lover - and the beast that she had seen in the cathedral. All four looked up at her, a whirl in those red eyes akin to watching slowly moving liquid metal roiling in differering shades of red.

"What are we going to do there?" She finally heard herself ask.

He smiled, and a flicker of innocence returned to those eyes. "Let's go on another adventure together. Perhaps our last one."

Netta freely tightenened her own hand around his.

Damned Monster that she had become, but it was the only thing besides the promise of her own kin's blood that could have tempted her so.