triskehale | (no subject)

Derek is on a run through the woods, following a trail that he wore into the earth himself. He could follow it with his eyes closed, which is why he's so surprised to suddenly find it blocked by a strange, squat little cabin that he couldn't see or smell until he was suddenly right in front of it. He has to skid to a halt to avoid crashing into the side of it, and he cautiously walks around to the front of the small structure. It looks a little like something out of a fairytale, like a place that shouldn't exist outside the pages of a children's book.

This is Darrow, so it isn't like a building suddenly showing up is anything particularly out of the ordinary, but Derek is annoyed to find it so close to what the wolf considers his territory, blocking the path that he made himself. He definitely isn't about to inspect it closer, no matter how piqued his curiosity may be, but as soon as he turns away from it he hears a voice calling for help from within. It sounds like a child and while it's suspicious, Derek finds that he can't ignore it.

It doesn't occur to him to let anyone know where he is as he climbs up onto the porch. The place smells like cookies and peppermint and he breathes in deeply as he steps over the threshold. Inside there's no child in need, nothing at all except for a sensation like cool water running down his body and washing away all of his memories, clearing his mind of everything he knows, everyone he loves.

A growl comes up from his throat as he feels his face shift into his beta form, eyes a blazing red as his memories are replaced with something new. He tries, but he can't shift back. He's stuck like this, the cruel result of an enchantress' curse. His feet take him back through the woods to the cursed summer chateau where he's meant to spend the rest of his days with dwindling hope that it will ever be broken.

The chateau is surrounded by an eternal winter and as soon as Derek steps into the snow, vines close the opening behind him and he knows that he won't be able to leave again. He isn't sure how he even got out in the first place, but now he's home.

"There you are, sir!" Derek looks over at the tall, narrow bookcase that serves as the head of household as it toddles over to him, rocking back and forth on worn corners as the small books that serve as its eyes widen in surprise. "What is it that you're wearing? Those are not clothes befitting a prince. My word, where did you even find them? Up to the bedroom with you. Change for dinner, young man."

Derek rolls his eyes with a growl, claws clicking over the ornate doorknob as he lets himself inside. The house is large and quiet, and Derek stares up at the ornate staircase as he heaves a weary sigh. He's been here for years, cursed to be stuck in this form, and time is running out for someone to come and break the spell.

Threaded | Flat

He's been running for days.

Two, maybe three. One of the many caveats of the speed force is that it can stretch any moment into eternity, which makes the happy moments glorious, and the terrible ones an infinite, bottomless agony.

Barry learned his lesson after his father died. He woke up in a bed without Derek, and he didn't try to escape. He didn't cause a singularity - when he ran, it wasn't to tear a hole in reality, it was to search.

Because Derek's still here, he has to be. The people Barry has talked to say that he'll know, he'll just know when his world is over, just as he'd known when he saw his father's headstone. And Barry's world doesn't feel over. It feels wrong.

So Barry runs, he runs and he runs and he speeds through the forest like he has thousands of times before in the last few days, and when the weather turns cold he's almost excited, because this? Is different. It's not miserable, sticky air making Barry's discomfort so much worse, it's cold and refreshing, and the longer Barry runs in it, the better he feels.

In fact, by the time the snow is swirling around his shoulders, Barry's having trouble remembering why he was upset at all. The air is crisp, and his feet slide along the ground in a way that makes him snort. He stops running and starts gliding instead, laughing aloud as he flies across the ground, dodging tree after tree and grinning like a loon.

It must be a relief to the squirrels watching him when Barry miscalculates, gliding into a tree branch so hard that his laughter winks out in a second, as Barry falls, blessedly silent to the ground.

It's been days in Derek's idyllic cabin. Snow falls from the sky in gentle drifts, softening the landscape and indeed, the very air, so that even the sound of footsteps outside are muted. The cabin is cozy and warm and full of books, the food is magically plentiful, and the days are long and untroubled.

Barry is so bored he thinks he might die.

Lounging with one leg on and the other off the couch, Barry hangs his head over the side and gazes around the cabin upside down. From the corner of his eye, he can see the blender staring at him with disapproval, but Barry's too bored to care. "Hey," he calls, lowering his voice even though Derek's outside. "What does he do for fun around here, anyway?"