Warning:

Rated CS(for Crazy Shiz)

"You summoned for me." Meredith's voice comes about like icy blade adorned with dead leaves.

My ragged breathing stops itself as she makes her way from behind me to my front. I hold my chin upwards-- the charcoal lace of her gown glaring at me.

Another strike of wind sends its encore. The shrouded sun's placed a tuscan beige sheet on the lake's surface.

I look around myself-- pretending to look for something, but still aware of Meredith. The side of her mouth twitches, before pressing itself into a line.
"Haven't got your minion with you, I see," I observe-- referring to the dusty shadow of her past.

Our intermingled past, more likely.

The pallor of her face-- just like my own-- taunts at me with a cold laugh. Meredith gives me a nod.
"You mean my demon. Of course, the poor thing wanted to see your up-coming-debacle, but I sent him away. To save you from humiliation."

I raise a brow and pull my arms behind my back.
"How thoughtful of you to not fill an entire concert hall."

Today, there's no chirping in the willow tree, only the sound of silence being prominent.

Meredith pulls both of her hands in front of her-- the tips merely touching the other hand's fingers. She smiles. I stay neutral.
"We are relatives after all. Even though, in my opinion, demons are far more loyal... As they never forget, but..."

I narrow my eyes-- straightening myself even more.
"But never forgive..." One hand set across my waist while the other points at a lemon balm plant. It being there is almost too convenient.

She nods and points a slick hand at me-- the lace of her sleeves waving as a belladonna flower emerges out of thin air.

Belladonnas mean silence...

I just stare at it. As the flower crumples away in her own hands.
"I warned you so, so, so many times."

Meredith moves more towards the tree, while my teeth bite the inside if my cheek's flesh-- without drawing any blood.
"I thought that perhaps you were more of an... indirect person after I visited your dream." My left eye screws half shut.
"I showed you those begonias..."

"Of course, you'd troll with flowers..." I cut in.

She ignores me with a sneer.
"That child in the black car outside your school almost got an accident because of you. Then I even sent my demon to pay you a visit in your memory lane. When Daddy Charlie got so scared of a dream..."

It was all her...

"I'm not responsible for anything you do."
The nails of my palms dig into the flesh.

But then an image of a little blonde girl, whom I thought to be brunette, invades my mind.

I wallop away any trace of emotion from my face.
"Dreams can either make or break you..."

Meredith shakes her head.
"Dreams only make you fall-- when they shatter."

I sigh-- shutting my eyes for a second.
"Depends on your perspective.
Besides, I don't think we're here for philosophical discussions."

"Are you here to spit out pointless philosophical questions, or something else."

The corner of her mouth creeps upward-- her black eyes assisting a sharp contrast. Like my own wrinkled attire is giving.

"You don't have any of the art running through your veins..." Meredith puts a finger on her cheek-- mock tapping it. My lips press into a straight line.

"So, you must assume that the Shatterio spell might aid you in diminishing me."

My lip tuts against the roof of my jaw.
"Never diminish, only remove. That isn't my job to do."

Meredith perks a brow-- leaning back a bit.
"And who shall do that task?"

Now what should I say...

Leaning back like her, I say something somebody I know would've.
"Whoever does that, shall reveal themselves on their own."

Did you really say that?

Apparently. Now shut it, you.

Meredith's eyes glaze over for a second-- as if remembering something-- before coming back to normal.
She takes a few steps forward till she nears my shoulder.

I stop her by putting two fingers on her ice cold shoulders, like my own.
"But that doesn't mean I won't be the red light and let you do anything you want to the Knightleys and Ingrams."

My right foot starts pivetting against the ground-- an alternative to fidgeting. With my own chest resting a hurricane inside.
Meredith turns to look at me, smirking.
"That only confirms pandemonium runs in both our veins."

She swings her shoulder back and claps.
"Very well, then.
Due to some of your blood running in my own, I shall grant your last wish." She nods at my steeled expression before continuing,
"The Shatterio shall be the means of your end."

"Thank you for your generosity," I asay with pulling my chin down-- so that it's just two inches above my collarbone.

Meredith pulls a hand up. Her bended fingers are about to point at me-- as if readying a stampede to charge. But it stops.
"Since you do not know the intricacies like my poor great-uncle did, heed my words... everything we say to one another-- our doubts and insecurities-- now shall be felt sevenfold..."

Seven again...

She hurls her hand around herself-- sending a golden circle of dust shimmering about.
"Shatterio."

I crouch my arms and bolt up when the suspended line of dust reaches near my waist-- skipping it with just a jump.

I may be a ballet dancer, but that doesn't mean I can jump that high...

My hair strands wave about as I look around. A rock dropping into my stomach as the entire setting is snatched away from under my black flats.

The willow tree and lake disappear as if the curtains have been drawn for changing the scene. Expect the curtains remain where they are. They don't give us the second act.

Only a literal white room syndrome without any walls. Just a void whiteness and a marble floor.

Where the hell...

A shrilly laugh interrupts my thoughts.

No, no. You should be the first one saying something. Think THINK!

"You know, the sins of the fathers always have a way of coming back..."

I blink at the reference. The first direct reaction I've given her.

Meredith puts her hand on her lips. Through the patches, I see her smirk.
"My father may have committed many sins, but so did yours."

I scoff-- arms bended upwards.
"You can't make me doubt my dad anymore. I know his entire story."

Her smirk only grows. Becoming into a guffaw. My arms lower a bit.
"Dear hell, your generation is not one for metaphors, are they?" My brows furrow and palms become colder.

She continues,
"Have you wondered why the Knightleys even have lands in Italy? Especially in that particular frame of time."

Percival coming back. Henry falling. The fire of the chimney burning...

I shake my head vehemently.

"My father was afterall Percival Knightley's first cousin." Her honey-dripped words taste like sour-milk.

"Do you really think he never recognised my father's surname and the meaning of his fore?
That, as far as Percival knew, there was no young scion to the Maleeces. With Arsenio so passionately proclaiming that in his letter.
After all, Percival and Dannoso did belong to the same social circle when my father lived here by my mother's assets..."

My nails prick into my skin.

"Do you really think our dearest Henry called Edenfield's house keys hellfire for nothing?" She takes a step forward.

No that can't be... right...?

Boulders rock on my shoulder blades, but I breathe.
"No... no..."

"Not so noble are they, the Knightleys." She looks down at her nails-- almost nonchalantly.

"Your glass castle has finally shattered, Percival. Embrace it."

Meredith mocks me with a siren-like laughter.
"Everything is about riches and lust, Ms Knightley." She gives me a curtsey, but my head keeps shaking on repeat.

"Do you really think that old hag in your abode stays there for you and not the luxuries?"

Gran... that...

Meredith takes a step forward-- her skirts thrashing against the floor.
"Do you really think that blonde chipling is anything more than a mere parasite?"

Allie...

"Only evil kids get their parents taken away from them."

"Do you really think that charming little redhead  actually cares? That he doesn't have any ulterior motives..."

"He was nothing more than a mere mirage."

What the fuck is happening to me...

Sevenfold...

I finally make eye contact with her-- my eyes sending daggers at her with a noose tightening around my neck.

She claps her hands-- fully enjoying this hazy state I'm in.

"Your brother may have been the only person to care for you, but he will be dead in a few hours. You'll have no one..."

I try uttering something-- gaze still not ready to lower itself-- still nothing comes. Instead, they fall back to my side, as my knees crash against the marble. My eyes widen.

Sevenfold...

A strident crack resounds while a lambent light shimmers from somewhere. Making me snap my head at the reflection. On the marble floor. My pupils almost encasing my blue irises.

My hands... face... neck... all visible pieces of skin are covered by cobwebs of cracks.

I jerk my sleeves up. Even my bruise has a shattered mirror like crack.

All of the cracks refract light.

But the most bright one is coming from just beneath my collarbone.

Just as I place a trembling finger on my cracked chest, my knees give up-- hurling me onto the floor.

A few steps come towards me.

My hands try to support my weight, but still my cheek embraces the cold marble. I grunt.

"Some people are ignited by the fire, Lindsey Knightley, while some are burnt by it..." she sighs.

"I am so sorry that you of the latter..."

Hullo everyone! May I just say that the expressionafterthelastscene is making me cackle like an old hag?

*gets shoe thrown*

*gets a bandage*

Oh, and did I mention how much I loved writing this?
*Black car of shoes hits*

*Like Dylan*

Okay, I deserved that.

The cover above is 'Secrets and Lies' by Ruelle. I feel like this perfectly describes what Meredith's saying to Lidsey atm.

AND OMG I FINISHED WATCHING VICTORIA & CAN'T WAIT FOR THE NEW EPISODES JSNSJJDKEKW

WHY ARE VICTORIA AND ALBERT SO PRECIOUS
AND LORD M! OH MY HEART

AND AND THE NEW LINDSEY STIRLING VIDEO

Btw, lemon balms mean 'sympathy' and associated it with witchcraft. I thought that that part was better left in the air, so I didn't mention this in the chappie.

Amd yeah... by ulterior motives, Meredith's trying to insinuate that Ethan's a Nice Guy™ (that sorta guy is someone who's only nice to gain sex and thinks it's the girl's 'job' to answer his 'niceness' with 'that').
And she's saying that Ms Bragge and Allison are only there because they want to be parasites.

Thanks so much for reading and don't forget to vote if you liked the chappie!
Here's this week's question:

Thoughts on finding out how the Knightleys have lands in Italy? Were you expecting something like that or something?

Just wanna know xD

Anyways...

Happy Friday the 13th 🎃🎆😈

Love,
MS Zame