BREATHE | bubbline ✓

" pretty darn close "

BONNIBEL'S GLAD THAT she doesn't get motion sickness of any kind, though she thinks this experience brings that possibility pretty darn close. She loosens her hold around Marceline's monster-bat form and drops down onto the grass outside the gloomy, dark, tall mansion that loomed over the hillside.

She shivers. It was colder than she thought it'd be.

"Stay close," Marceline tells her, shifting back. "If we get caught by demons here, I won't be able to magic us out or anything."

Bonnibel obeys. "So, are you planning on telling me why your dad just conveniently decided to kidnap my family?"

Marceline breathes out forcefully. "I don't know what he's up to, alright? I'm sorry, I was careless. I shouldn't have let all...this happen." She raises a hand over the entire towering, shadowed structure to emphasise her point.

"It's useless apologising now," Bonnibel says as-a-matter-of-factly, hugging herself in the chilly breeze that blows past, its touch leaving ghostly tingles all along her skin. She decides she doesn't like it — it felt as if she was being watched or, rather, stalked.

"You don't have to come, you know?" Marceline says softly as the pair come to a halt by the tall, barred gate. "It's dangerous."

Bonnibel sends her a flat look. "I'm coming."

Marceline nods grimly, and she holds her arms out, as if asking for a hug.

Puzzled, Bonnibel eyes her. "What're you doing?"

"I can float us over," Marceline raises a brow, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Oh." Bonnibel blinks, and she steps into Marceline's embrace. Another aspect to experiment on, in time to come.

The vampire boosts them up over the side and promptly lets go of Bonnibel, like she had been burnt. "Try to stay quiet—well, that is, if my father doesn't already know that there are trespassers." She indicates the shimmering, black aura that kept low over the mansion's grounds. "He usually has those in place. Basically like a burglar alarm."

"More magic?" Bonnibel eyes the thin layer with interest.

Marceline sighs in exasperation. "Yes. But that isn't our concern now, is it?" She peers around the side of the mansion, to where the double doors look over the courtyard, vines winding, slithering and smothering the frame.

"What's the plan?"

Marceline turns. Her face warps into confusion. "There...is no plan...?"

"What," Bonnibel deadpans. "Don't waste my time, Marceline. If you're not here to help me, I'm going in myself."

"No, no," Marceline sighs, "hold up a moment. I—My father—I'm just trying to think of a way to enter without anyone knowing but it's close to impossible. There are gargoyles guarding every inch of the mansion, and I'm honestly surprised we aren't being surrounded right now."

"But you can fight them, right?" Bonnibel crosses her arms, planting herself indignantly in front of Marceline.

"Yes, but—"

"Then why not? If you have the power to defeat them, then why not?"

"Bonnibel," Marceline leans forward, and Bonnibel thinks that she's never seen her appear this...frustrated in all the time she had spent with her. "I can't just waltz in like I own the place. It's not as simple as you think—I'm—I'm not invincible."

She drops her gaze to the ground and her voice grows smaller. "I...I can't always save you."

"It's not about me, Marceline," she grunts, "My family is in there."