snowtourn

glass

It had become day, then night again, before Glass reached the place she called home. Her bass wore heavy on her shoulders, her arms sore from carrying her bags so long. Somehow, she felt her entire body reeked of sweat, and seawater, and blood. Everything hurt. Yet, not for a moment could she rest. Though she knew she shouldn’t have, she splurged on an uber home from the airport- it was almost 2 am, and she didn’t want to wake her friends or neighbors. She didn’t want to let anyone see her like this, at least, not anyone she knew. Nothing had changed, but everything had. She still felt so... empty. Drained. All her tears had been spent. Usually, Glass would’ve tried to listen to music while she waited out such a dull, tiring car ride- it was why she carried around all her tapes, after all. Music helped her get through things. It took her mind of the pain. It was somewhere she could go where none of this- none of the aching dullness that was her life- really mattered. In making it, in listening to it- she could escape. But not know. She could not slip the earphones over her stiff, non-cartilage ears, she could not dig through her bags for the precisely right tape. She couldn’t even put in the effort to properly listen to the song- she knew, if she tried, it’d just be noise to her. Glass was tired. Fuck, was she tired. She only had energy for the most necessary of actions, now, and so she sighed in her seat, letting air out of lungs incapable of breath. She slumped her head on the window, listening to the glass-on-glass clinking of her hair. She hated that sound, that obnoxious tink-tink-tinking. Oh, how happy she’d been when she’d thought she’d never have to hear it again. She watched the lights of the city pass by, watched them dance in the translucence of her body. She closed her eyes as much as she could, looking through hazy crystal. She’d be happy, when she slept. When she’d reached Max’s house, Glass got out of the car, unloaded all her belongings and thanked the driver. She’d give him a big tip. God wasn’t some weird blind guy on an island, Glass decided. God was in the heart and soul of every service industry worker, working their ass off in the middle of the night. That was her new philosophy. That was something she could believe in.

10:00 PM

As quietly as she could, Glass pulled open the door to Max’s garage, and closed it behind her. No doubt, Max was in the house, safe and warm and asleep. Glass hoped she’d worried about her, all those days with no contact. Her phone had died halfway through the plane ride home, so she hadn’t been able to send any update texts. Hell, she had a story to tell. No one was going to believe her. Glass didn’t dwell on it. She deposited her luggage on and around the folding chair she used as a nightstand, and plugged in her phone. Then, she went straight to the shower. The nice thing about living in Max’s garage was that it had an adjoining bathroom. Not even a half-bath. A full bathroom, with a shower. Glass was eternally grateful for whatever shitty architect made that choice. Once she had stripped herself of her dirty day clothes, cleaned the shiny, hard surface of her body til it glistened, and dressed herself in fresh pajamas, Glass let herself collapse on the couch that was her bed. She let the familiar springs embrace her, she sank into the old, deep cushions. Though her sense of smell had always been bad, she liked to think it smelled like her. It was comfortable, to think of that. When Glass died (it was always a when, never an if, when she contemplated this. She contemplated it often.), she wanted to do it here. On her bed, in her space. Surrounded by her things, by the people she loved. She wanted to go out happy. Her mother had died in a hospital, cold and sterile and away from everyone. The thought terrified Glass, as a child and even now. She did not want her death to be so cold. Glass had been thinking much of death, recently. Especially after all that had happened. She’d been given the world, so suddenly. And then just as quickly, it’d been ripped from her hands. Glass turned on her side, so she could reach over to her coat, dig into its pockets, and pull out the smooth, round stone Taisto had given her, that morning on the beach. She couldn’t see its pretty surface in the low light, but still, it was comforting. It was one of very few things she’d taken back from the island- she’d gotten phone numbers, from anyone she thought important enough to keep in touch with. She’d brought the stone, and the weird lilies- one for free, one she got for winning her fight. Those, at least, she could pawn off for some cash if she needed. She didn’t take much else. She brought her memories back. Memories she would bury, and hoped would stay buried til she died. Glass didn’t have time to dwell on such things. She was already running out of time. She had an excuse, to bury it. Glass held onto the stone, holding it her palm, savoring the coolness of the sensation, and the smoothness of its surface. Even as she fell asleep, she held it over her chest, relishing the way her hand rose and fall with the pantomime of her breath. (ment of death and medical trauma) (edited)

roy

It’s all finally over. That nightmare of a week is behind him. …what now? Roy found himself sitting at a bench on the dock, along with his partners. They all had a LOT to talk about. Where to go from here, getting that stone for Eben, finding Inu’s brother, their relationship… it was exhausting just to think about. The hell he just went through was wearing on him. He put his hands in his pocket for a moment, jolting as his lighting made a spark with something in his pocket. Eben’s key! It wouldn’t be too bad to ask to stay for the night, would it? He could really use some actual rest… …. After a bit, Roy finally made his way home. Eben needed some time to readjust and there was plenty of space at Roy’s house. Him and Inu were able to portal to the airport to pick up Roy’s truck, and then directly home when the damn thing didn’t start. Roy asked Inu to stay at his house while he visited his parents. He had a lot to explain and bringing a stranger along added way too much for him to deal with. One thing at a time… (edited)

6:08 PM

God he wished it was one thing at a time. He had so much to explain to his family… Roy was hesitant of how much he had to talk about, but found himself running down the gravel road to him parent’s place. He missed them- god he missed them more than anything. Claire was sitting on their rickety old porch, petting a stray cat. She looked up, and then sprang off the porch, running to her brother. “ROY!!!! You’re back, hey!!” She stopped just before him, hitting him rough with a friendly punch on the arm. She hissed with pain as Roy’s arm was weirdly hard, and Roy cringed along with her. “Shit- jeez Sparky, you packing kevlar in there or something? …what’s with your face?” Roy continued his cringe into a frown, but turned it into a weak smile. “Haha… ah.. a lot happened on my trip, um. Look- first off, don’t be mad at me- I lied about the fishin’ trip. Second, I got so much shit to say, can I at least get inside before I start?” Claire gave him a hard look, confused mostly. “Yyyyeah I guess? Why’d you lie about the trip- you got secrets? Where’d you go?” She grabbed at a bag, trying to help and rush him along. He sighed, his smile growing as they walked. He missed his rowdy sister. His parents were waiting in the doorway, hollering hellos and for him to hurry inside. “I’ve got so much to tell y’all about…” (edited)

darcy

It was a long trip back to Verend, and Darcy tried not to feel for the entirety of it. Truthfully, he was much too tired to. He was still thinking through all that had happened- so much, and yet he’d understood very little of it. Still, he searched for meaning in it all- every story had to have meaning, didn’t it? There was no point to such an abrupt, unknown end. It was such a cruel fate, to not know. Darcy wished he did know what had happened. That was what he always wished- to know everything. If the church’s false God’s promise had been true, that’s what he’d have wished for. To know everything. At least, he wished he knew what had happened to that false God. He’d resurrected his beloved, he’d ordered them all to leave, and then what? Darcy didn’t know. He knew of exactly one person who did know, and he could not easily ask her. This, like many things, was something he was forever fated to live in ignorance of. He would have to learn to live with that. Dejectedly, Darcy trudged through the rainy streets of Verend, to his father’s townhouse. It was always so rainy in the winters, in his homeland. He wasn’t used to the white sheets of snow that’d covered the church’s island. The sight was near intoxicating then. Now, he had to return to normal. Could he? He, luckily, still had his keys to get back into his home. He didn’t want to think of what might happen to any those unluckier than him, who hadn’t left the island with all their belongings. It was about halfway through the evening, now, so his father was out- either drinking with his colleagues, or out with his friends. That was good. Darcy would enjoy the time he had to himself. It would give him time to think up an excuse for his absence. The house was dark and silent, as dark and silent as the night Darcy had left it. The entire house- each room and hall- was bathed in the dusty, artificial light of the gas lanterns lining the outside city streets. All the rooms, but one. Lovett’s study was illuminated by the light of one singular candle- the warm flickering light casting the entire place in an ominous haze. Darcy made the mistake of pausing a moment too much and catching his father’s gaze, and then he had no choice but to turn and face him. “Father.” He hovered in the doorway, still holding his bags and wearing his rain-soaked coat. “And so you have returned to me,” Lovett’s voice was apathetic, as it always was when he was angry, “Alive.” “I’m sorry, Father. I should have written you a note. Please, forgive me.” Darcy looked down, and watched his shadow dance in the firelight. He could not bare to look at his father’s face. “And where should I suppose you ran off to, for nearly a week?” “I was at... a tournament. For those with abilities such as ours.” “A tournament.” Lovett scoffed. “Hardly a legal one, I gather. Off-island?” “Yes. I believe it was hosted in the Loucari.” “The Loucari.” A pause- Darcy would not speak above his father. “Well, did you at least win?” “I- I did not. I won my matches, but- the tournament was a set up. The organizer was hosting it for... his own selfish desires.” He didn’t go into detail. He was not permitted to go into detail. “Well.” Lovett sighed. “It seems you just wasted a week on another of your whims.” Darcy did not protest this fact. “Go to your room, Darcy.” His father finally ordered. “We have a meeting with the Duchess tomorrow. Try to have something impressive prepared.”

ekmeros

There is a house in a village, both small. The house is too small to fit a family and yet, once, it had. Every room was small, its furniture squeezing its people into the nooks and crannies when it had once been filled. Once, it had been filled with generations of family and their belongings. And now, it is empty. Twenty years, it has been empty. Except for twice a year. Twice a year, the end of winter and the end of summer, he returned home. Dusted, polished, washed. And then, when he had reached the attic, working from the ground up, he would clean and stand in the empty bedroom. Breathe in what little dust was left. Sit at the foot of the chair. Pretend it was other hands playing the music. Every six months, the Ghost of Stonewatch returned home. He returns home no longer. He finally fits his name. He finally meets his family. And the house grows dust, then damp, then mould. And no one dares to approach the house, finally haunted. They let the house die too. They let the house rot.

peregrine

IMPORTANT TWs drug use, sex (no details but. it’s happening), suicide (the ideation is detailed but no detail on methods, also heavy reference to a previous attempt, just a lot of this) “You know, I’m so glad you came back,” the woman with long salt-and-pepper hair said as he twirled her under his arm in their dance. Just like the skinny boy two days ago. Just like the blue-haired person two days before then. Otto watched from across the dance floor; he was the only one who knew that Peregrine's smile - that others would take as sly, flirty, playful - was a sign of deep boredom. Practically bone-embedded. He was still getting used to this, so Otto was pushing him further. A party every two days. Party. Sleep. Party. Travel, then sleep if you get the chance. Take something if you don’t. It was rude to fall asleep before the other, and generally not his style. Peregrine didn’t know what he was on at this point. Not sleep, certainly. That was tomorrow. Otto had booked out a hotel room and assured Peregrine that the mattress would be to his suiting, for once. Two beds. Otto knew something was wrong with him. Well, always had. That something was wronger with him. The rest of the night was just colourful flashes of light and snippets of pop remixes until Peregrine found himself where he always ended up at the end of the night. His back stung where the skin met his wings as she pushed him into the bed, the wounds still tender but easy to ignore. Different bed - her bed. This mattress was no good for him. His performance was selling a different story. Hell, his performance didn’t matter, just his presence alone. He’d deprived them for four years, after all, and then finally returned to them. Who gave a shit if he wasn’t as good as he was before? He was theirs again. Theirs and no one else’s. Not his. Not Libbi’s. And there was relief in that. He could feel the moment coming, them coming. Ladies first, of course. He kept a clear head, letting those noises spill out of him, well rehearsed. As the moment came and passed, Peregrine stared at the ceiling and allowed himself those selfish thoughts.

12:25 AM

(TW SUICIDE IDEATION FROM HERE) He stared at the ceiling and imagined hanging. Not all the rooms were suited for anything like that but, well, it was a fantasy. He granted fantasies but suppressed his own. That skinny boy, he was too young to see it. The blue haired person was already on the verge of a breakdown. With this woman, she’d be far too smug about being the first to find the Angel dead. She’d make a career of his corpse. One person using this body for a job was enough. Otto was aware. That was the point of him, to be aware, and what he wasn’t aware of didn’t matter. He didn’t know about the tournament. He didn’t know about him losing his wings. And he certainly didn’t know Libbi had been pregnant. No one did. He knew the important things. H’d been the one Peregrine had called last time. Last time was different, though, Otto had confiscated anything that could count as medication. Maybe, if there wasn’t the risk of side effects that made Peregrine useless, he would have gotten him on proper medication. But there were risks, so he shouldn’t, so he didn’t. But it wasn’t like Peregrine was going to use that method. That was so last season. Otto had been the one to say hanging was more suitable, narratively. The Angel would fly one last time. What a story to sell. Peregrine shut his eyes for too long and the exhaustion wore into his bones, the woman slumped against him before peeling herself off to shower. He wanted to leave. No, he wanted to sleep - but that was rude, and too satisfying for her. He sat up, stretching his wings, then his arms and legs. He ran his hands across his stomach in quiet thought. He didn’t let himself think too much. He spent the rest of the night with her, biding time until dawn and he could fly safely. She was insistent on kissing him on the lips when he was propped up on the windowsill. He granted her that. “I’m so glad you came back,” she repeated. Peregrine smiled. It was bored, but to her it was sultry. One of his three traits. Easy to read. Slutty. Playful. The Angel. “I’m glad you came too,” he said, prying open the window and finally leaving. Escaping. He could let himself drop. But he didn’t.

petrai

(implication of sex, descriptions of violence)

1:58 AM

knock knock knock Petrai waited on the gleaming marble steps, in front of a gleaming marble estate, both of which were far too grand for the rotting heat of the South Loucari marsh it stood in. The region never got true winter, but the rainy season was in full effect. It was a miracle Petrai didn’t get more soaked than she already was, and she wasn’t exactly dry right now. Sadihak’s mansion door was covered by an awning, though only a small one. Petrai knew it was for exactly this purpose. They always liked to be slightly more dignified than their guests. An old habit of theirs, she believed. It’d been over twenty years since she’d last been to the South Loucari, and it had not changed much in her absence. Sure, the powers had changed- the war still raged on, and the card-table of local powers had exchanged decks. She was pretty sure Clan Ilfther had fallen from grace, finally, and the money had changed back to seiran coppers, instead of the lea that’d been in fashion a few decades ago. But the people were the same. It took longer to change the spirit of the people. The sailors she’d sold Yeonaixho’s boat to were the same. The rickshaw carter she’d chartered to take her across the city was the same. The children playing in the street were the same- they were all, always, the same. Her appearance had caught the eye of many of the townsfolk. She had expected this, of course. Even back then, twenty years ago, she had caught the eye of the South Loucari commonfolk. She was a northerner- in face, in body, in dress and in action. Now, she had abandoned that stereotypical northern dress- she still was wearing the shirt she’d ‘borrowed’ from that other, ridiculous winged contestant- and she attempted to minimize the attention she received- going out of the way to hide her northern accent, keeping a low profile. Still, she drew some attention. It would be impossible not to. Though she kept her wings folded against her back, she kept them visible. She vowed she would not hide them any longer, and she stuck by her vows. Even when she could feel the unpleasant stares lingering on her back. She knew that some South Loucari held traditions and told stories revolving around her birth heritage. Hanishadria’s people, at least, had revered and honored the corvifolk. She did not know what the people of this region thought of her kind. She hoped she would not have to stick around long enough to find out. It had not been difficult to find Sadihak. First, she narrowed down the region- they were still in the South Loucari, of course. They couldn’t leave- no one could really leave the Loucari, and they couldn’t go north. They wouldn’t go anywhere controlled by the Malevtran Clans, so that cut out a great deal of land still managed by Hanishadrias’s son’s empire. The Malevtrans outlawed prostitution and punished it harshly, and Sadihak was too smart to walk into that trap. They also wouldn’t go to anywhere where the Caito triads were too involved. “Anyplace run by those thugs,” She could remember them saying, “Is bad news for people like me.” There were relatively few politicians and ruling powers in the South Loucari that Sadihak actually did like, but one of them was a delicate, round-faced woman by the name of Kyeora Ta Mindou, heiress, of course, to House Mindou. They’d gotten on her good side sometime around when Petrai had been in the South Loucari, most likely through the same means they always did. After all, that’s how they’d gotten on her good side. Once Petrai found out what islands Kyeora held jurisdiction over, it was no difficulty to find which one Sadihak was on. She’d simply had to arrive at the right one, ask around in town for a name, and pay for the ride there. She was certain the carter thought her one of Sadihak’s particuarly well-paying customers, but she didn’t care. Essentially, that was her role in their relationship. Except, she never payed them in money.

1:58 AM

She knew that they knew she was waiting. Of course they knew. They were simply toying with her. Petrai knocked again. knock knock knock The second time, evidently, was the charm. Moments after her knock had sounded, the door slid open. “Darling, I thought I’d seen the last of you twenty years ago!” Sadihak looked, in essence, the same as they had twenty years ago. Petrai would’ve recognized their face anywhere. Yes, they had aged- evidenced in thin wrinkles around their eyes, and in not much else- but they still were the same. They even wore their hair the same- one strand draped precariously over their defined nose and chiseled features- though it was laid loose around their shoulders, instead of being piled up on top of their head. For a woman who saw everything, and took solace in the fact she could not be surprised, Petrai was pleasantly surprised to behold Sadihak, after all these years. Their familiar face was comforting, yes, but it was equally enthralling. By the way they looked at her- and how their gaze dipped a bit lower than it should’ve- they felt the same. “Circumstances changed.” Petrai shrugged. “I’d tell you more, but I think it’s a story best told out of the rain.” “So they have....” Sadihak mused. Their surprised expression morphed into one more natural for them- a sly, serpentine smile, half-lidded eyes. “Then, you’ll have to join me for brunch.”

2:00 AM

Sadihak, like any good host, poured Petrai a glass of wine before serving them self. It was a fine, dark wine- smelt of musk and cinnamon, and Sadihak explained a bit about the label before they poured it, like they did for all their customers. This was the entirety of their ‘brunch’- because while they did have a private chef, they and Petrai both knew this was just an excuse to talk. Petrai didn’t care, of course- all that nonsense meant little to her. Still, she swirled the wine around in her glass, and waited for Sadihak’s questions. “So,” They began, taking a sip from their own glass. “You finally left him?” “I did.” Twenty years ago she’d abandoned laying by Sadihak’s side to stand by Yeonaixho’s. Look at how far she’d come. “Why’d you do it?” “Forty years around that man was too much.” She scoffed, and took a sip of her wine. “Honestly, three seconds around him was too much.” “Hah! I’ll drink to that.” Sadihak rose their glass. “What’s he doing now? Lamenting your absence? Robbing more graves?” “Rotting, hopefully.” When Sadihak rose an eyebrow, she elaborated: “He’s dead. By his own will, of course.” “Interesting.” Sadihak leaned back in their chair. “How’d that come about?” “Did you know Jymaiyri died?” She asked, first. “I did not.” “By Hanishadria’s hand. Yeonaixho was devastated afterwards.” “Not surprised by either of those things, really.” Once she had started, it was difficult to stop. The wine was loosening her tongue. “Well, by then, we were all living on that damned, frozen island of his. Miserable. And of course, he locks himself in his room for five years after, leaving me to run his damned church all by myself. And then he killed everyone.” Sadihak reacted to all this with intrigued, yet visually apathetic silence. They let her speak. This was not shocking to them- they both knew Yeonaixho, and they both had grown up around the cruelty of war. This was no different. Yeonaixho was no different than the dictators and tyrants that had come before him. “And then, after nearly twenty years, he says to us that he’s solved it. He’s going to revive Jymaiyri, and to do it he’s going to host a tournament of people with powers, and take all their powers to bring her back. It was ridiculous, it was idiotic, and yet no one spoke against him. Of course.” “Hm. His devotion was his downfall.” Sadihak mused. “Always knew it would be. That man was an idiot in life, and it seems an idiot in death.” “He killed the rest of the church again, before we left.” Petrai added. She had so much still to say. “It wasn’t much- a fraction of the population it’d once had, but still. And his daughter.” “Daughter?” Sadihak lifted a brow. “A young girl named Albanes,” Petrai explained. “A student of mine. Her and her close friend Madeline met an... unfortunate end as Yeonaixho did.” Unfortunate, indeed. Petrai still wished she had been able to do something to help the two girls, and yet... there was nothing. It was better that she had let them die together. She had to look out for herself. “Oh. Sad for them, I supposed.” Sadihak shrugged. “Sad, indeed. Not every ending’s a happy one.” Before Sadihak could reply to that with an innuendo, and she would inevitably end up beneath them, she added, “But part of this one does. I need to tell you about one of the contestants.”

2:00 AM

Sadihak’s expression shifted at Petrai’s abrupt change in tone. “Oh? Do, go on.” “Her name was Roque Rayes,” Petrai began, emphasizing ‘was’, “And she fancied herself a musician. Thought she was some big deal because of it, thought no one could tell her what to do. When Yeonaixho inevitably decided to take her powers early, she attacked me- she dragged me to some bloody pit dimension and-” She lifted one of her wings only slightly, “She managed to injure my wing. I barely got out alive. Of course, Yeonaixho dragged her away and neutralized her and locked her in a box, but I had not had my revenge yet. Do you want to know what I did to her?” “I figure you’ll tell me anyways?” “I took her eyes.” She relished even saying it. Still, she remembered that evening- having the woman who once tormented her, bent to her will. Her eyes, held in the palm of her hand. So fragile she could squeese them, and they’d pop. “Huh.” Sadihak said. “Nice touch.” “Of course, I didn’t get to kill her.” Petrai found herself scoffing. “Yeonaixho forbade me after I blinded her. I almost got the opportunity to drop her into a blizzard, but...” She sighed. “Ultimately, her own arrogance got her. She got dragged back to her blood pit and crushed to death. All in all, a gruesome death that befitted her, I suppose. I’d have rather seen her torn apart, personally, but I suppose beggars can’t be choosers. I’m just glad she is dead.” Sadihak had little to say to that. “Well if you’re happy, I’m happy.” They shrugged. “Seems whoever this Roque woman was, she got what was coming for her. Funny how these things happen.” They took a sip of their wine, and swirled the glass idly in their hand. “Shame she got your pretty wings, though.” Petrai was midway through a sip of her own when Sadihak made the comment. She could feel warmth rising to her cheeks in a way it hadn’t in years, save for when she re-read their old letters. “A shame.” She nodded. “But as you can see, now, they’re better now.” “I can see that.” Sadihak’s half-lidded gaze grew lighter. Abruptly, they shifted their posture. “Say, I recently purchased a new painting for my bedroom. I think it’ll be of your taste. Would you like to come see it?” Sadihak knew, as well as Petrai did, that she had no taste for art. She recognized what they were inviting- an old code of theirs, an indication of what was to come. Petrai rose from the table. “Would I? Lead the way.”

inu

Finally, it was all over. Inu couldn't help but breathe a heavy sigh of relief as everything finally came to a close. It was....stressful. Inu was glad to just have everything be simple now. As simple as life could be with his considerable amount of baggage. Still, being with Roy and Eben gave him hope. Taking the portal to the airport and then home was easy enough. Inu stood back as he watched Roy run up ahead with his family, he shifted awkwardly on his feet before he smiled fondly, watching Claire playfully punch Roy. He couldn't help but feel a small bit of jealously bubble up inside. Siblings. What a complicated topic, huh? The thought of his brother crossed his mind before he shook his head to clear his thoguhts. He and Roy already briefly talked about what the plan was. Roy was gonna just explain everything that went down and then introduce him. That was fine with him. Inu admittedly wanted some time to get used to the new area. So, Inu wandered to the kitchen coop. He bent down as he gently pet one of the chickens, humming softly as he ran his hands through the feathers. "..Do you have a name lil guy.." He mumbled softly. He only got a singular cluck in response. "Hm...Sir Clucks." Inu laughed softly. "I think that fits, don't you?" He asked softly. Unbeknownst to Inu, a portal opened up behind him as he continued to play with the chickens. "Sir Clucks?" A voice asked. "Some things never change, huh." Inu felt his hair stand up on end before he whipped his head around. His eyes went wide as he stared at the figure who entered through the portal. Dark blue hair with black roots, piercing blue and yellow eyes that matched Inu's. The two stared at one another for a moment before Inu opened his mouth to speak. "...I finally found you." Horacio whispered as he took a few steps forward, gently touching Inu's shoulder. "I never stopped searching for you, Inu....God you look so different now." He laughed bitterly. "You're all grown up now." Inu glanced down at his shoulder before he looked up at Horacio with a small smile. "...Yeah.." He whispered. There was a heavy silence that hung between the two and Horacio pulled Inu into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing tightly. "I'm sorry." He whispered. "For everything." He squeezed his eyes shut. "I-I came back for you. I came back but you were gone and by that point I knew I fucked up." "Horacio..." "I shouldn't have hit you. I shouldn't have hurt you." "Horacio....." "I shouldn't have-" "Horacio!" Inu interrupted before he pulled away and looked up at him. Inu wiped away his own tears before he let out a tiny laugh. "I-It's okay...I forgive you and...you're here now, aren't you?" He tilted his head slightly. "Right?" "...Yes.." Horacio mumbled. "I am." "You were gone for so long..." Inu sighed heavily. "...But I am happy...I am happy you are here..." He squeezed his hands together. "...We have a lot to catch up on, don't we..?" "...Yeah." Horacio laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. Inu offered a small smile. "...We got all the time in the world to catch up." Horacio stared down at Inu, narrowing his eyes briefly. "Did you just...?" Inu's smile only grew as Horacio playfully shoved his shoulder. "Maybe I shouldn't have searched for you." He huffed. "Don't do that." Inu shook his head with a laugh. "Okay, okay," He smiled brightly. "I won't." "Good. Cause I'm watching you." For a few seconds Horacio froze up before he groaned. "Damnit, Inu."

enya

Enya steps off of the boat onto the docks, and her footsteps instantly sear into the wood beneath her. She sighs, running a hand through her hair as she forces the flames back, and shrugs her bag up onto her shoulder as she breaks off from the group towards the side edge. It’s going to be a long trip back—the least she can do is give herself a break before she gets back on the road. She’s not sure why she’s suddenly so exhausted. It’s hardly even been a week since they got to the island in the first place. She didn’t get injured, she didn’t lose her powers, she didn’t have anything remotely bad happen to her like most of the others on board. She shouldn’t get a break, she should be fucking grateful. But here she is nonetheless. Enya glances back at the boat briefly—there’s a few people she considers saying goodbye to, but… Well. Maybe it’d be better to slip away unnoticed. She turns her back and sits down half-hidden against the wall once she’s far enough away, letting her head drop down onto her arms crossed over her knees. She’s not sure how things will be normal again, after this. A good amount of time later, she’s on her way back home. Her mom’s car is parked outside when she finally arrives, and she’s already dreading the conversation before she even approaches the door. It opens with a soft creak and she winces, but she’s already been spotted. “Enya,” Moira gasps, face paling in an instant as she grips onto the edge of the kitchen table for support. The shock and concern and relief on her face passes in quick succession until it’s overshadowed by a thin sort of anger that’s enough to make Enya wish she’d called ahead. “Where on earth have you been? Do you have any clue how worried I’ve been? How much trouble you could be in? I can’t keep them off your back forever, not if you keep—“

4:33 PM

“Mom,” Enya interrupts, and the choke in her voice betrays how truly shaken she still is. “Can— Can we save the lecure. For later. I-I just—“ She can’t even begin to find the words to explain. Moira’s face plummets. “Oh, firefly,” she whispers quietly, moving around the table slowly and pulling her daughter into a tight hug that both of them cling on to immediately. “Of course.” For now, everything’s okay.

eben

Eben invited Roy and Inu to stay with him that first night after the tourn, in his apartment. That had been his favourite night because they were all too exhausted to care about what came next. When Eben arrived home, there was a letter addressed to him stuffed under his door. He’d stored it in his pocket before the other two could ask him who Ellis Hastings was, and he always planned to read it but never had the courage. It may sit in his bedroom until it is too late for him to read it. He realized now more than ever, every single time he was made to smile by Roy or managed to catch the indigo blush Inu always failed to hide, that he did not want to die. He hated to die. Not only because of those two, no, but because he stopped trying vainly to touch the world and began looking at it. It was all so beautiful. There would never be enough birds or flowers or dragonflies for his eyes. He vowed that when his joints failed him, he’d make sure he was somewhere outside, looking outwards. He was vaguely amused by the idea of becoming some strange statue discovered in the middle of the woods someday. But for now, he was not dead or immobile, and he could have one more cup of tea, or one more movie night, one more dance. He was going to enjoy it.

hannah

After making her way back home, dragging her bags behind her and propping her surfboard up on her shoulders, Hannah simply stood in front of the door. The door to the house she hated so much. She knew her mom's schedule well enough, she was behind that old wooden door. Waiting with some kind of comment. Some insult. A scolding. After standing there for a while, she finally kicked at the bottom of the door with her foot since she didn't have any free hands, and braced for the incoming screaming that was bound to happen. It was hardly two seconds later that there were shuffling feet rapidly approaching the door. "Coming, officer!" Her mom said loudly from inside. '.. Officer?' Hannah frowned. Hopefully her mom wasn't getting arrested for some weird crime too. She wouldn't even be able to blame it all on Roy this time! The door swung open, revealing her mother standing on the other side. A middle aged woman with graying brown hair that was tied back in to a bun and hazel eyes. She was holding her phone up to her ear, at least until she saw Hannah. The device clattered to the ground and down the steps to the doorway. ".. Hey-" Hannah began, but her mother instantly lunged forward toward her and wrapped her arms around her shoulders, making Hannah drop her bags and surfboard down the steps as well. "Mom!" "H-Hannah- I was so worried-" Her mother sobbed in to her shoulder and pulled her in tighter. Well, this wasn't expected. Hannah slowly raised up her hands and rested them on her mother's arms. She couldn't remember the last time they hugged. Awkward high school graduation photos, maybe..? Something forced. Something fake, just for the camera. "Oh- I.." Hannah didn't know how to respond to this. "You don't have to say anything- let's just get inside. I need to call that officer back and say drop the investigation." ".. You called the police about me being gone for like five days?" Hannah asked. "Your phone signal it- you were out in the middle of the ocean and then you disappeared, Hannah! I-I thought you got yourself hurt again-... I was going insane with worry, Hannie." Wow, she hadn't heard that in a while. "Oh." Hannah mumbled. "I.. I'm fine, Mom. It was just a cruise and I lost signal.. Sorry.." "That wasn't the route any cruise ships were taking. I looked at every single one." "..." Hannah paused. "Mom. I'm fine- I just.. I don't want to talk about it all right now.." "That's fine dear, that's fine.. I'm just happy to have you back." The two picked up the rest of Hannah's things that had fallen and headed inside, quietly closing the door behind them.