She knew this was not real the moment she recognised Branson. The last she saw him, he had been mauled until he was but only shredded flesh and meat clinging to bone, that when his body had been wrapped up to burn on the funeral pyre, the shape of him was not all that human. He had been the reason Monroe did not bother learning names of squires after that, why she was harder on them to do better so as to not see another friendly face barely recognisable.
She had been a week away from returning back to the Monastery until a lack of vigilance saw her down an entire bottle of fae wine, and woke up in a place between rivers that settled the land of North and South Ilica. No one back in Astenvale knew she was on her way back home, not when she was due back to return three months later. It had been some years since she came south...
And there he was. The squire that had been the last she had taken on. Bronson had served her well, had learned to weather her dark days and knew when she did not mean her sharpness. He was a good lad... until he stood there, beneath the elm tree waiting for her. He wore his armour, polished to a point of laziness as that had been his specialty. The wider and easier surfaces shone, but the rest held that blurred smear of a dirty cloth running over it.
"You're supposed to be dead." She braved to speak, but he only stared. Monroe stared right back before taking a step forward, and another, before realising that... Branson was merely staring through her. "What the fuck..." her whisper held her confusion in the breath she used to say it.
"These are reflection pools, miss." A young boy popped beside her and Monroe jumped. She laid a hand over her heart and stared down apprehensively to the young one that did not pay attention to her fright. "Right there, behind that tree is one. If you see someone, Ma always tells me it is because they want to talk to you."
Monroe shook her head. "Fat chance I will want to talk. The dead should stay dead."
Reflection pools? It sounded like some blasted fae fuckery, and the sort Monroe did not want to mess with. There were too many dead in her life, and the idea of visiting any of them... it sent a cold chill down her spine.
"Well... don't fall in. Ma said the pools are actually deeper than they look... but I like to skip stones across the larger pools. I come down here from town when I can, to see my Pa... um, has anyone told you that you got leaves in your hair?" The boy pointed to the back of her head, and when Monroe pulled her hair over her shoulder, she began to pick them out. "There, you got them all. Come with me, I can show you the pool where my Pa likes to relax at."
"Oh, you can go on ahead... I will... look at this one here." She cleared her throat and nodded towards the pool he told her about. She could not see it from here, where the shallow banks were hidden behind tall grass, but the closer she got to peer over it, she could see the small body of water. It was bigger than she imagined, and when she passed by the still staring into the distance Branson, Monroe could not help but hold her breath for fear of his lingering spirit to possess her.
What a strange place to wake up in. The sun had nearly crested in the sky, hidden behind clouds, but that did not seem to invite people in droves to wander about the reflection pools. There were many kneeling in the grass, some even laid out blankets and picnics to share as a family. She did not see any other old faces from her past, but Monroe kept walking and leaving behind her old squire where he was.
She had been a week away from returning back to the Monastery until a lack of vigilance saw her down an entire bottle of fae wine, and woke up in a place between rivers that settled the land of North and South Ilica. No one back in Astenvale knew she was on her way back home, not when she was due back to return three months later. It had been some years since she came south...
And there he was. The squire that had been the last she had taken on. Bronson had served her well, had learned to weather her dark days and knew when she did not mean her sharpness. He was a good lad... until he stood there, beneath the elm tree waiting for her. He wore his armour, polished to a point of laziness as that had been his specialty. The wider and easier surfaces shone, but the rest held that blurred smear of a dirty cloth running over it.
"You're supposed to be dead." She braved to speak, but he only stared. Monroe stared right back before taking a step forward, and another, before realising that... Branson was merely staring through her. "What the fuck..." her whisper held her confusion in the breath she used to say it.
"These are reflection pools, miss." A young boy popped beside her and Monroe jumped. She laid a hand over her heart and stared down apprehensively to the young one that did not pay attention to her fright. "Right there, behind that tree is one. If you see someone, Ma always tells me it is because they want to talk to you."
Monroe shook her head. "Fat chance I will want to talk. The dead should stay dead."
Reflection pools? It sounded like some blasted fae fuckery, and the sort Monroe did not want to mess with. There were too many dead in her life, and the idea of visiting any of them... it sent a cold chill down her spine.
"Well... don't fall in. Ma said the pools are actually deeper than they look... but I like to skip stones across the larger pools. I come down here from town when I can, to see my Pa... um, has anyone told you that you got leaves in your hair?" The boy pointed to the back of her head, and when Monroe pulled her hair over her shoulder, she began to pick them out. "There, you got them all. Come with me, I can show you the pool where my Pa likes to relax at."
"Oh, you can go on ahead... I will... look at this one here." She cleared her throat and nodded towards the pool he told her about. She could not see it from here, where the shallow banks were hidden behind tall grass, but the closer she got to peer over it, she could see the small body of water. It was bigger than she imagined, and when she passed by the still staring into the distance Branson, Monroe could not help but hold her breath for fear of his lingering spirit to possess her.
What a strange place to wake up in. The sun had nearly crested in the sky, hidden behind clouds, but that did not seem to invite people in droves to wander about the reflection pools. There were many kneeling in the grass, some even laid out blankets and picnics to share as a family. She did not see any other old faces from her past, but Monroe kept walking and leaving behind her old squire where he was.