Board Thread:What Would You Do?/@comment-35898511-20190805182531/@comment-36855838-20190811225948

"I'll help you as much as I can, Dad."

I take my daughter's hand, and take a losenge honeyed words.

"Right. Let's get your brother to safety, then."

We sprint for home, the sound of combat rushing towards us.

I motion towards the heavy plate armor which stands in the Foyer, studded with clear crystals, and while My daughter dresses into it, I grab my own, lighter leather set.

Made from the hide of a Hellhound of old, the leather is black, and quite sturdy, resilient to heat and cold, wear and tear.

Gold and red thread forms the linework of various protective runes, some sewn by old friends, others by ancestors from the old age, and some by myself. such that the suit glitters and glistens with a faint holy glow.

Having donned the long-sleeved Tunic and pants (thank you, modern elastic) I tiptoe upstairs to try finding my son.

As I near his bedroom, I hear a faint creaking from the mattress.

I retreat to the basement, motioning for my daughter to follow.

---

"Alright, Denise, we have a problem."

"Did a monster. . . ?"

I sigh.

"Yes, a monster likely got Devon."

She slams her gauntleted fist through a cabinet, and in the ensuing quiet, I her her tears dripping within the confines of her helmet.

"I wanted nephews."

I nod, solemn.

"I would have liked a grandson."

She sighs, and I see an inky black beginning to tinge a few of the crystals in her armor, if only slightly.

"Do you want sons?"

She steps back, surprise in her eyes, evident even through the small gap.

"I- I never thought- I suppose so, but, am I really responsible eno-"

"The fact that you question yourself tells me you worry plenty enough."

The silence returns, broken occasionaly by a scream or a loud crash in the distance, or by the occasional gunfire.

"Lunatics, killing their new neighbors."

I nod in agreement.

"Let's see if we can't save Devon."

---

"Devon!"

"We're here to rescue you!"

We crash through the doorway, and sure enough, Devon is laying in bed, and a monster is indeed inside his room.

She's cradling his head in her lap, his pale skin against her beautiful, gentle blue.

a pair of graceful wings extends out from her back, fanning quietly and chilling the room, her tail swishing slowly, the spaded end making rhythmic slaps against the soft mattress.

She slowly opens her eyes, lifting her head to look at us.

"Ah, are you my darling Devon's family? It's so delightful to meet you, my name is Catherine!"

Devon stirs, possibly beginning to wake.

"Shhh, sleep darling, you need your rest after all the fun we just had."

Catherine Caresses his face, and scratches gently at his scalp.

"Do you mean to say you have already-"

"Corrupted him, yes. if you want a sugar coating you aren't getting one. I'm more honest than our oh so gentle leader."

She flicks her tail, and two chairs appear.

"Take a seat, there is a small amount to discuss. I have paperwork to finish."

I sit down, but Denise opts to stand behind me instead.

"Such a kind daughter, looking out for her father like that!"

---

Catherine conjures up a table, and on it sits a contract.

"As you two plainly see-"

Devon's signature adorns the document, along with a thicket of symbols which twists and turns before my eyes, pulling at my attention like a rope at a bull's nostrils.

"Ah, right, my true name is not something you mortals can actually pronounce, my darling Devon liked the name Catherine, so I have adopted it for all practical purposes."

A quill and inkwell appear before us, and the pages unfurl until we see two lines labeled "acceptance."

"Would you two, his only living relatives, endorse our matrimony? It is by no means required, but it would mean worlds to the both of us."

I take hold of the quill.

"No, father!"

I set it back down.

"My son is old enough to make his own decisions, who are we to interfere in his love, why should we reject our family?"

Denise grips my shoulder.

"Don't you see, he will never have a son, She took that from him, how could we possibly embrace this- this sabotage!?"

I turn.

"What is done is done, and if we take too long, you won't have a son either, not ever. We're signing, and leaving."

I sign my name, Damian Damascus, and motion for her to do the same.

As soon as she writes her name, my chair grabs me, pinning ne in place.

"Hmm, should have read the fine print."

I nod.

"Fair enough. So what now?"

Catherine chuckles.

"You become honest about your true nature."

---

I spare Denise a glance, the crystals in her armor are almost opaque.

"Are you going to alter my daughter, or just let the black air take it's course?"

Catherine inclines her head, absentmindedly adjusting Devon's legs into a more comfortable position with her tail.

"I assume you have a preference?"

I hold my arms out, as if holding a large bowl against my chest.

"Interesting choice, but I can certainly do that."

Catherine claps her hands quietly together, and a massive urn appears, dumping several gallons of a thick, creamy substance into the gaps in Denise's armor.

She scrambles to unbuckle the straps, the crystals now completely black, useless for protection.

She finally worms free, and tries to hold the armor over her head, like an umbrella.

CLAP

Another urn hurls the same fluid over her, this time from the side.

Her clothes are drenched, she wrestles them off, trying desperately to wipe off the thick milk.

CLAP

SPLASH

Another wave of milk washes over Denise, soaking into her skin and hair, some flooding into her nose and mouth, causing her to cough and sputter.

The onslaught continues, gaining speed and volume, such that all that can be seen is the white silhouette where Denise sits on the floor.

The milk keeps pouring, splashing further and further from her torso over her chest area.

I clings more tightly to her legs, soaking deeply into the thick fur which now coats her legs softening it.

It catches on her lengthening horns, anddrips from her mow long, floppy ears, and as she stands, it drips from her long, freshly sprouted tail.

"Congratjulations, it's a Holstaur!"