Jacqueline

The Night Report

“So, would you say that she was aggressive in her pursuit?” The Spiral inquired, spinning her sharpened quill around her claws. The cafe was quiet in the late hours, illuminated by peach lamps, glowing in the dark. Her interviewee was hesitant, as she poured another cup of tea. The Skydancer’s claws were steady, disciplined in serving thousands of cups, but there was a slight waver, in the stream of fluid from the spout.

“No, not really. She asked me out a few times, some in person, sometimes she’d send letters. She didn’t force me to do anything, she just asked, a lot.” The spiral accepted the offer of drink, inhaling the fragrant aroma. It was delicately sweet, herbs and petals blending into a relaxing mix, to be expected from the cafe owner. However, her ears were perked, listening carefully to the gaps in the spoken word. That was how Aoife was, she never seemed to want to assert herself, avoiding speaking ill of others. Jacqueline knew this, and as much as she loved her, it made the interview much more challenging.

“What did those letters look like? How often did they come in?” Jacqueline probed. The Skydancer froze, gripping the handle of her cup. The Spiral’s eyes focused in, noting the white grip of her friend’s claws. Her breath hitched slightly, watching the pressure build.

“...I’m not sure if this is okay. Are you sure you want to see them?” Gently, she held Aoife’s claws, easing the tension she felt. It was always hard for dragons to speak about these things, and for all of her nosy methods, she would never force anyone to do so. Sometimes, all she could do was offer an ear, claw or shoulder.

“If it’s going to make things right, of course. What kind of reporter would I be if I shied away from the truth? I’m not going anywhere. Not tonight.” Aoife was breathing hard, and her grip tightened on her companion’s claws. Jacqueline could feel her own chest tightening, imagining what those papers might contain, what could have hammered those old wounds, stressed her friend to such a degree.

But it wasn’t time for anger. She just needed to be there, in the here and now.

They sat there together, silent except for the murmur of night winds, pushing on bamboo chimes. It might have been a few minutes, or hours, before Aofie let go. Slowly, she got up, and went into the back room. Alone, the Spiral relaxed her shoulders slightly. She couldn’t relax yet, but at least there might be evidence now. She resisted the urge to flick her pen, fiddle with the tablecloth, or curl around the table leg to release the nervous energy. Jacqueline was never the best dragon for the serious aspects of her work, but there were always exceptional cases. For her sake, she would listen, as long as she could, to ensure the story came to light.

The Skydancer returned, with a stack of opened letters, piled up. She hastily laid them onto the table, looking away. The Spiral’s wide eyes stared in shock, at the copious amount of material. Buckling down, Jacqueline began to scan the words, as they alternated between beautiful cursive and jagged ink. The Spiral felt her heart burn up, as she read paragraph after paragraph, adulation, admiration and infatuation, alternated with rage and guilt. One moment, the author would describe sugary moments of memory, some of which a more explicit, and disturbing fantasy. Another, they would decry her name, cold hearted and cruel in her machinations of ignorance. A calculated assault on sanity, denying again and again the stalking in the shadows, and the graffiti on the cafe door. She could see the pattern of blame woven inbetween hammering again and again those words: “this is all your fault.”

The Spiral shook, gripping the papers in her claws. It was a horror, and she felt herself sink further the more she looked, yet she could not look away. A spiel of vile entitlement was sprawled out in front of her, one which took her beloved as another target.

“Why? Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” Jacqueline sputtered out, in reaction.

“I...I didn’t want to bother you. It’s not your problem, it’s my fault for not turning her down nicely anyway. Please, I didn’t want to get you involved-” The Spiral shot up, and put a claw on her lips.

“No, stop that. This is NOT your fault. This girl is a nutcase, and you just happened to stumble into her. Nobody could just handle it by themselves. Okay?” The spiral backed off, taking a deep breath. Looking over the insanity with a more detached eye, everything she needed was there. Names, dates, times, it was practically a written confession. It would take hours to go through it all, but she could use everything there.

“I’m going to need to take these with me, to finish writing it up. Is that alright? If she comes back, or does anything else, let me know.” The Skydancer hesitated, but gave her assent. Before the Spiral could curl out the door, she was ambushed by a hug, the serpentine reporter embraced by the soft baker.

“Please, stay safe. I don’t know if she’ll go after you next. Don’t go too crazy with the gossip, yeah?”

“Heh, don’t worry about me, I’ve handled fan mail. You’re the brave one for having dealt with this, and coming forward. I won’t speak anything but the truth.” She could smell the scent of sugar and dough on her scales, and she hugged back, embracing the sensation. She would have wanted to stay there, for just a moment longer, but there was work to be done.

As she left the cafe, bags of letters in tow, she thought forward on what to do. She wouldn’t embellish, exaggerate, or misrepresent. This stalker deserved much worse than mere gossip. Jacqueline smirked at the thought.

It wouldn’t be that difficult to ruin her life beyond repair. All she had to do was to show everyone what kind of monster she really was.




Winged Fox Pixel by BetaOrionis




Art by RetroJackal