merry fucking christmas (*halloween), have an old and unedited draft of a faerie/childhood bonkai fic i started writing ages ago and havent finished
Growing up, Bonnie Bennett had known to stay away from two things: the Gemini Coven, and the forest.
It wasn’t that Abby didn’t want her playing outside– she was outside constantly. Her Grams, who lived in the same victorian, three-story house that had been in the Bennett family for a few hundred years, had planted a vibrant garden full of any and all flowers that might appease the Fae Folk.
The Bennett witches, the only known coven in existence with an unlimited access to magic with no consequences, lived closely in and around nature. The Fae Folk had long since been apart of their tradition of Earthly magic, and some even told tale of the faeries being their ancestors. Such claims were large ones, of course, since the Fae were a proud people and rarely came forth to mingle with humans, witches or not.
Sheila and Abby had taken these legends seriously, though, and raised Bonnie in the ways of the Bennett witches before her. She learned a plant revival incantation by age five, and a basic fire spell by age seven. By age eight, she was leaving offerings out for the sprites and aiding her grandmother in hanging horseshoes on the doors of the house to keep boggarts away.
The forest, however, was off limits. Bonnie had always known it was, despite her incessant daydreams of sneaking off into them and never returning. The famous woods of Mystic Falls were known for their supernatural intrigue, but even more than that, there were old witch’s tales that claimed the entrance to both courts of Fae were housed in the woods. As such, the faerie activity was high enough that it posed a threat to any passerby. The Mystic Falls Council had long ago closed the woods off, claiming government-ruled radioactivity in the area might pose a risk to one’s health.
Bonnie had always known the truth, though. The forest held many mysteries she wasn’t allowed to seek, and it didn’t stop her from dreaming.
Bonnie had never quite known, however, the true reasoning behind Sheila and Abby’s strict policy against the Gemini Coven.
She had never known, until she’d met Malachai Parker.
She’s ten years old the first day she meets him.
“Wait! Give it back!” Bonnie cries, leaping out of the seat of her desk. She watches, horrified, as the spindly-armed boggart darts across her dresser and then leaps, landing on the carpet and only to squeeze under her bedroom door. He’s carrying pages ripped out of her diary— pages Bonnie are sure contain her detailed, hand-drawn map of the woods near the Bennett mansion.
If Sheila or Abby find she’s been in the forest…
She practically lunges, ripping open her bedroom door. The faerie’s yellow, cat-like eyes glint in the darkness of the hallway like floating orbs, and Bonnie bolts after them.
The creature is faster than her, though— he bounds up and onto the stairway railing, sliding downwards to the first floor.
The horseshoe on the front porch. It must’ve gotten taken off, or even knocked off, she realizes.
“No,” Bonnie cries, taking the steps two at a time. But the boggart is already paces ahead of her, and after the the witch chases him into the kitchen, he scampers up the cabinets and nimbly leaps from the open window above the sink.
Groaning in frustration, Bonnie turns, bolting to the back door.
“Bonnie Sheila Bennett, what in the Goddess’s name are you running for?”
Bonnie whips around to see Abby, standing at the living room threshold and clutching a laundry hamper full of dirty clothes. Shame washes over her, and her palms quickly start to sweat. “N-nothing, Mom. I just— I lost one of my spell jars from Grams.”
“Ahhh. That’s no good, honey. Have you checked outside? You could’ve left it on the porch by accident.”
For a moment, she can’t believe the lie worked. She’s typically a very poor liar when it comes to fabricating things to Abby, Rudy or Sheila; even in the slightest. She earns her first suspicious look from the older Bennett when she starts edging towards the door.
“Er– n-no. I’ll go check now. Thanks, Mom!“
Turning on her heel, she practically zips outside, shutting the door hastily behind her. Abby doesn’t follow, though, and she sighs in short-lived relief.
When she rounds the corner of the house, she first spots the paper trail. There are pieces of matter trailing from the house to Grams’s shed, and she can just barely make out all of the debri in the grass. It looks to be from not only paper, but plaster and other such materials.
The boggart had started building a nest in the shed, probably counting the days until the horseshoe was off the back door. The realization hits her like a cold bucket of ice water being dumped over her head, and she knows more than anything that she needs to get her journal entries back.
Scrambling to the side of the shed, she presses her back against it and leans forward to peer into one of the windows on either side of the door.
Inside, the sunlight is just barely filtering in, washing over the interior’s dusty, dim atmosphere. Bonnie can just hardly make out the pile of what looks to be paper and other assorted garbage woven together to form what loosely resembles a bird’s nest. She squints angrily at the faerie, who is scampering over to the nest with her crumpled journal pages in hand.
The boggart’s rabbit-like ear twitches, and its head turns almost unnaturally on its wrinkly neck to glance in her direction.
Bonnie pulls back, pressing herself flat against the shed in panic. She’s about to look again when she feels a tap on her shoulder. She nearly screams, but it comes out as more of a surprised yelp.
“Stop,” the boy says, giving her a steely look with his grey-blue eyes. “Stop screaming. I came to ask if my mom can borrow sugar, but no one answered when I knocked so I came out back. You’re Bonnie, right?”
She blinks. The boy looks to be about her age, with messy dark hair and an impish face. He’s tall and lanky, with cut-off shorts and big converse.
“Maybe. Who’re you?”
The question is a fair one, considering she doesn’t recognize the boy. The idea of who he might be crosses her mind just before he says it.
“Kai Parker. Y’know, from the crazy house up on the hill?” He grins, revealing dimples.
When she doesn’t say anything in response, he waves a hand in dismissal. “Totally not important. Whatcha starin’ at?”
Before Bonnie can stop him, he leans forward, peering in through the window. Giving a whistle, he nods. “That’s a fat boggart, huh?”
Bonnie is so stunned she can hardly speak. It takes her a few seconds to remember that, as witches, the Parkers would be able to see through the Veil and to the fae as well. Magic blood automatically granted one the Sight.