Lore [7/???]

Xavier feels its gaze on his back. Feels it watching.

"Stop it," he snaps, not bothering to turn around. Not bothering to look up from the flowerbed he's weeding.

Silence. Even the wind through the pines ceases at his words.

It's like the whole goddamn lot of those things are trying to mock him. Not just this one, but all of them.

There's a rasping noise - branches against the iron fence, probably. A scrape that sounds like metal on metal.

"Go away," Xavier groans. "Just -- just go. You know it's pointless."

More shuffling. More noise against the fence. A thump. A sick, squelching noise. A splatter.

Xavier huffs out a breath, turning to look. If it wants him to see it, fine. Fine! He'll look. Not like he hasn't seen them --it-- a million times.

It presses against the iron fence, its head lolling awkwardly between two rungs. The skull tilts too far to the left, an angle that would be impossible with working neck muscles and sinew.

It's the one he knew it was. The one that follows him around anytime he's close to the woods.

The one that's too small to have been more than a preteen when it died. Maybe it had been something more solid back then, but not now. Now it is nothing but a husk, nothing but skin drawn over vines and branches.

One of the 'hands' twitches - the other twists at the wrist and creaks like twigs breaking underfoot. It jitters as it raises, reaching toward him.

And then it recoils as if zapped when its hand passes through -and past- the wards; the scent of singed wood curls in the air.

"Stupid fucker," Xavier mutters, smirking at the mindless husk.

Mindless...

And yet...

It follows him. It acts like it knows him.

Xavier swallows a sudden lump in his throat. He watches the thing as it bumps against the fence; the thick branch erupting from its eye socket scrapes against the iron.

He steps closer to the fence. The thing's body flails, trying to force itself through the bars. Harder and faster with each step Xavier takes.

When it bumps its broken face against the iron, Xavier lashes out and grabs the antler-like growth at its eye socket, dragging it closer.

The thing passes the ward and begins to thrash with abandon, the scent of burning leather and wood acrid in his nostrils.

"Stay. The fuck. Away from me," he hisses. "Or I'll make a fucking centerpiece out of you."

He shoves it back through the bars, watching it topple into the overgrown brambles on the other side of the fence.

And then he goes back to his work.

It only takes a few moments for the sound of branches against iron. Shuffling. Breaking twigs.

Xavier grits his teeth, focusing only on his hands and the terrible, satisfying things he wants to do to that damn puppet.