isledolon

[isledolon]

coda || finale 4/4

You finally reach your destination. Those at the docks pay you no mind as you walk by the charter bus meant to drive you to the cul de sac, no one bats an eye as you head towards the ferry instead of away from it, it’s as though for this brief moment everything is within your control. Things will go precisely how you want them to.

It won’t last. It never could. Things going wrong is natural. You’ll trip on a slightly-raised plank. You’ll drop your phone and watch a hairline crack form on the screen. You’ll take a wrong turn and make a ten minute walk into a thirty minute trek. You’ll fail. You’ll flounder. You’ll fall. You’ll suffer.

But doesn’t everyone?

[♫♫♫]

And with those pains, won’t you also smile when someone reaches their hand down to help pull you up? Won’t you copy down the name of the shop someone suggests for you to get the repair done at? Won’t you laugh at the scene of the dog bounding through the fountain in a tucked-away alcove that you never would have seen on the ten minute path? Won’t you succeed just as much as you’ll fail? Won’t you fly just as much as you’ll flounder? Won’t you rise just as often as you’ll fall?

Won’t you live just as much as you’ll suffer?

Sea breeze mixes with clover as you stand on the rough wood in front of the ferry, and the spirit’s voice fills the air once more.

"Cursebearers, this is our goodbye, but it does not have to be farewell. The world cannot dictate your next actions. I will ask nothing further of any of you. This island is forever in your debt."

Agivǫr says this and tucks a stray lock of hair behind its ear, smiling down at you all proudly.

"I have always loved mankind for your ability to forge your own paths, regardless of what reality would have you think possible. When you looked to the ocean, you saw limitless potential. When you looked to the stars, you saw only hitherto-undiscovered wonders. There are no bounds for beings like yourselves, and I will always love watching you create your own destinies with your own hands. You don’t need handouts or wishes granted for you to thrive. You can create miracles and wonders all on your own. It is why I am excited to finally resume my place in humanity’s periphery, helping only when otherwise impossible hurdles loom before you. Or, perhaps as one final thank you, an inconvenient one."

Your minds buzz, and you’re suddenly reminded that magic has helped you all understand each other this whole time. Now, dialects and accents and grammar and infinitives--they all flood your mind before being tucked gently away, as though they’ve always been there.

"It would be a terrible shame to see your bonds hampered by something as trivial as language. I know you could overcome the challenge, but there are other challenges in the world--in your stories--I would like to see you all overcome together."

It walks closer towards your group before pausing, perhaps predictably, in front of the one who has helped it more than any other, had offered it friendship and company for the first time in centuries. Agivǫr pauses in front of Takumi Minatoya and does not hesitate before pulling them into an embrace.

"Words cannot encapsulate how grateful I am to have met you, my friend. If it is not ill-timed to say, I wish for nothing more than your happiness. You have earned it alongside all of your companions, even those who may not believe it to be true."

It separates from them, giving their shoulders one final, gentle squeeze. The spirit’s gaze turns to Edith, the one who brought about the tumultuous times on the island and in the world that the spirit loves so much, and it offers her a gentle expression.

"You are the only one to take its hand and survive to tell the tale, wish maker. I am glad that the next hands you took are kinder. Even in whatever dark days that may follow--for there will be darkness in life, always--take hold of the lanterns your friends light for you. Do not allow fear to blind you. You wish for peace, but you never needed a wish to grant that for you. You made it yourself. You made it with them."

Finally, it walks back to the edge of the dock where asphalt meets wood. With each step it takes, a small burst of clovers spring from the ground. Eventually, the white petals swirl together and begin to form familiar figures. A gnarled troll covered in earth with dirt between its teeth waves its curled fingers at you. Oighrig stands with the frog from the cave, giving you all a nod as the frog wheh-whehs at their side. A blue bird scurries in from stage left as a pink one waddles from stage right.

Once the spirit reaches the edge, it gestures with its arms towards the open ocean behind you all.

"You are Cursebearers, yes, but now, you are your own Storytellers. Only you can tell the world the next chapter. The ferry will take you back to the mainland. You will find yourselves supplied with tickets home. You can leave the island. You’re also welcome to indulge in the vacation promised to you, no strings attached this time. You can take a week or two here to consider your next steps as no one will be expecting you home for that time.  Regardless of what you choose now, you will always be welcomed on Taig Island…But there will be no, ah, ‘hard feelings’ if you’d prefer to never set foot here again. I understand all too well that feeling. For all that this place has hurt me, it is still my home. But you all have homes to return to or to create with your own hands. Storytellers, I cannot wait to read what wonders you will write in the annals of history."

And that’s it. It lowers its arms, folds its hands in front of it, and gives you all a slight bow. The baby birds hop into its arms where it cradles them close to its chest, tucking them in the crux of one so that it can wave to you all with the other.

You turn, grab the handle of your luggage, and tug it forwards.

Once there was a hero…

[isledolon]

catalogue of heroes || finale 3/4

You stride forward, feeling as if a weight has been lifted from your own shoulders. As you look around and take in the same sights you first saw months ago, you realize that it’s just Agivǫr said– nothing has changed. But that’s not quite true, is it? In your time spent on this island, you have changed. You have seen things no human being has seen before, or will ever see. You have delved into the memories of your peers, met fantastical creatures, and have discovered the existence of magic. 

You may leave this island, and return to your normal life, but nothing will sever the bonds you have forged over these past couple of months. No one may ever recognize what you did to save the world today, but nothing will change this irrevocable fact:

That you are the hero of your own story.

You feel your heart flutter in your chest as you look to your peers. You may have experienced a great tragedy during your time here, but you can see the change this island has brought about on each and every face. This page of your story is coming to an end, and now, it is time to turn to a new page and press on.

Once there was an owl named Amane who discovered that they didn't need a new life to be loved in, and that they could do it with the one they already had.

Once there was a sparrow named April who became true to herself.

Once there was a bluebird named Ashleigh who learned to live a life beyond the one that she felt was the one she was supposed to be living.

Once there was a raven named Gaku who found that all chances to keep living and be happy were not lost despite his past choices. 

Once there was a cat named Haru who, through hardship, only became more assured in her own self-confidence.

Once there was a tiger named Hiiro who found that he could be accepted for, and accept, the him that already existed.

Once there was a weasel named Itachi who found that he could be immortal through his memories with others.

Once there was a rabbit named Kanon who found that no matter what mistakes she made, she would always be welcomed back home.

Once there was a cardinal named Lacy who found that even if she had to live with what she'd done in the past, she could be loved for who she was now.

Once there was a fox named Lisa who found that she didn't need to look far to find the companionship she always dreamed of.

Once there was a rat named Lye who found out what love truly meant to him.

Once there was a husky named Maria who learned that she could help people in her own way, and no longer had to fear the future because of it.

Once there was a wolf named Morihiro who found that he could still live comfortably amidst his past mistakes, no matter how painful they were.

Once there was a samoyed named Mugen who learned to let go of the past and live his life in the moment.

Once there was a hamster named Rudy who learned to accept the painful emotions he once wanted to shy away from.

Once there was a seal named Shidou who found that he didn't need the approval of another to live happily.

Once there was a snow hare named Shiloh who found that he could make lifelong friends, just by being himself.

Once there was a capybara named Taniko who learned that the world couldn't determine her fate on its own, and that she was the one who needed to take matters into her own hands.

This world may be flawed, but it is by no means beyond repair. In fact, it’s your world to shape from now on. 

Together.

[isledolon]

denouement || finale 2/4

Agivǫr stands in the grass of the grotto that holds the Wishing Well, their hands folded carefully in front of them but with a gentle smile on their face. They look more peaceful than any of you have ever seen them, a weight off of their shoulders and a calmness about them that matches the gentle breeze drifting through the clearing you all find yourselves in.

"Congratulations are in order. I apologize that there is no hero’s welcome for you all to return to. Your deeds will be known only by those of us gathered here now, in all likelihood, and any beings on the island who may encounter any involved. I can offer no suitable reward, but I have done my best to furnish you all with…something."

It is then that you really notice the forest around you.

The green of the grass is lush and verdant. There are still a few petals clinging to the flowers of the trees. The air is just cool enough that you may feel the need to draw your arms into the sleeves of your shirt, outer layers likely having been discarded as early summer stretched long into August and the dog days with their damp air and bright sun.

You know time has passed for you. You feel it in your bones, in the way your mind still works to process all that you have experienced in the past few hours. The world seems completely oblivious to its passage.

It’s as though these past few months have never happened at all.

"I felt it inappropriate for you all to be burdened with the troubles that would come from going missing for so long. There was enough energy left over from anchoring the world back into its natural state that a slight indulgence in technically unnecessary global tampering felt…inconsequential. You are the only ones who remember this summer. For everyone else, it’s just now starting."

Agivǫr smiles at you all even brighter, gesturing to a newly-visible path in the treeline. Peering through it, you can see that there’s a clear path--albeit a little long--to the harbor.

"If I could ask for one more indulgence, it would be that you lead me to the place where your story of your time here on Taig Island first began. I was unable to welcome you then, but I would ask that you allow me to welcome you now. I would like to view our heroes in the place where this all began."

For many of you, perhaps the harbor is precisely where you intended to head in the first place. If time has been rewound just as Agivǫr says it has been, then that means your luggage is there, too. The pieces are set, at the place where it all began, for you to pick up the quill and dip the ink yourselves for the first time in months and months.

You turn and head towards the dock, the remaining spirit of Taig Island following your lead.

[isledolon]

with hope cross on our hearts || finale 1/4

The process of making wishes is as varied as the individuals themselves making them. Some speak out loud, some step into the scenes, and some imagine things entirely in their own heads. It’s obvious as you all make them, though, as the flowers and bright blue sky around you begin to splinter and crack– not like the golden cracks of Edith trying to destroy her own memories, but the simple cracking and warping of an old building no longer able to stand. Pieces of the scene around you begin to chip away, falling and dissolving into dust in the breeze and revealing a golden fog behind them. Edith’s imagined world fades into incorporeality before your eyes, taking her own wish with it. 

(Of course, she has a new wish now. But she doesn’t dare think about it. She puts her faith in all of you, instead, to wish for her.)

Edith, standing next to Takumi, turns to watch as the beautiful realm she had created crumbles. She can’t help a hint of sadness crossing her face. After all, this is what she had worked so hard for. Years of dreaming wiped away, leaving her with an uncertain future. It’s terrifying. She grips Takumi’s hand, her fear obvious in a way it never has been before. There’s no point in hiding, when you all have seen everything there is to see about what made her this way. 

Despite that, though, she turns to you all and smiles, faintly. 

"It seems to be working… your wishes are the ones it’s deciding to act on, I think. Soon… this realm should be no more. …Good job. You must… believe in them, strongly."

Takumi nods to Edith.

"That's great news! If it really is choosing everyone's wishes, all we have to do now is wait for this realm to disappear…"

And soon enough, the world Edith created begins to fall apart. Cracks weave their way through the idyllic scene before you, and the beautiful blue sky that once appeared above you fades into nothingness. You hear each other's final wishes echo in your mind, as if to remind you that this is the path you have collectively chosen.

As the last piece of Edith’s field of flowers crumbles away into nothing, you’re left with no ground beneath your feet. You find yourself falling, again, much as you had when you entered the well to get here– but you experience the unsettling sensation of falling upwards, as if some force is pulling you up into the sky. If you dare to open your eyes, you see the golden fog of the realm breaking apart, leaving gaps where you can see out. It’s not the symbols of your curse stones you can see through them, as you had while falling in, but glimpses of the lives you had all wished for to shape the realm’s destruction. 

You believe, for sure now, that what you have done has worked. The new realm is being formed on your wish to return to the real world, and destroying itself to make it come true.

It feels like you fall simultaneously for an eternity and no time at all. Eventually, the light around you grows brighter and brighter until it blinds you entirely, and you’re forced to close your eyes against it. In that moment, you feel your body land on solid ground once again.

When you reopen your eyes, you see the clear sky above you. You lift a hand to shield your eyes against the sun, hanging high in it. The stormy vortex and black goop has vanished along with the realm you were just in, returning the sky to its normal color. You lay on the grass, completely intact and no worse for wear… apart from being soaking wet. The well, now an inert pool of water, sits next to you. No spirit rises from it to menace you. It is quiet and does nothing but reflect the sky above, as it always should have. 

Sitting up and looking around you, you see that you have been returned safe and sound to Taig Island. 

Before you can celebrate, though, you feel a strange sensation. At this point, that’s becoming a far-too-common occurrence, and you instinctively stiffen and glance around for whatever might be amiss. It’s hard to place what it is– an odd dizziness, maybe. You feel like your head is spinning for several seconds, and find it difficult to focus on anything in the scenery around you for more than a brief moment before it makes your head hurt. 

For a moment, you’re afraid that something has gone wrong. The sensation fades, and you go to get to your feet, looking around for any sign that the world is about to split apart once again. Your search ceases early when a familiar voice greets you.

"Welcome, Cursebearers. Never have I been happier to say those words."

[isledolon]

what makes a home || Amane

To go home.

For Amane, it had always been a physical task. Walking back from whatever errand or order they had been given. At the end of the day, Amane would return home to their room. That was their home.

Yet what was the definition of home? What did home really mean? When others spoke of home, what made them speak of it fondly and with longing.

Home.

A place anyone would wish to return to after a long journey.

Amane had never truly felt the full depth of this feeling before. To them, home was just a word. To them, saying 'I'll be off' or 'I'm home' was only just the action of a call and response.

But now...

People come to mind when they think of those words. A smiling face, an eager reach of the arm to take their hand, or even just a voice unseen from another room.

Amane didn't have to do anything to deserve it.

Amane didn't need to be more.

Amane didn't need to be less.

Even if Amane stopped being Amane, they could still picture them saying it. Not just one person, but a whole myriad of faces.

"Welcome back."

"Welcome home."

"Hey, I missed you."

They could feel the prickle of tears as they tightly clutch their curse stone to their chest.

To think that they'd given up on even imagining anything like this.To think they'd convinced themself that the world could never have a place like that for someone like them.

But they were wrong. They never thought they would be so glad in their life to be this wrong. 

Once, they'd only thought there was one path for them in life.

Once, they'd thought it was futile to want things that were beyond them.

And once...

Once upon a time, there lived a bird in a cage, one who couldn't fly and would have only fallen prey to the world that lay beyond the one they knew.

Yet the one who plucked their flight feathers had been themself.

But one day, they saw another bird through the window and they struck up a conversation. Not wanting to be pitted, the caged bird stood elegantly on its perch, trying to look the part of a perfect specimen, puffing up its feathers and showing its good side. 

But perhaps the bird had thought, even if the other one found out what they really were, such posturing would drive them away. And they would be safe in their beliefs, safe from the world outside of the cage.

But the other bird did neither leave nor stay and look upon them in awe.

The bird called over others like itself and together with their whole flock, they opened the bird's cage and encouraged them to come out.

It was then that they looked in and saw how small the caged bird truly was. Their wings atrophied and their legs clumsy.

But instead of going for their throat like beasts, members of the flock gently scooped the caged bird under their wings.

"Fly with us!" They said. "We know all the best places for food, all the prettiest places to see and all the comfiest places to roost together!"

The caged bird was shocked and setting all embarrassment and fear aside, they stammered out a confession.

"B, but... I can't fly... I don't think I'm strong enough."

The other birds looked amongst themselves, confused.

"Maybe not yet, but that doesn't mean you can't. We'll be here to bring you food and teach you how until you're strong enough to fly yourself. We can build you a nest and stay nearby. We want to help you!"

The no-longer-caged bird couldn't believe what they were hearing.

"But don't you need to eat too? Don't you have your own chicks or your own blood? I'm just another bird, I'm not one of you."

"Says who?" Piped up one of the other birds as the rest of the flock joined in unison. "Who would make such a silly rule like that? We all get cold, we all get hungry, why would we want any other bird to have to live like that?"

Amane smiles, inaudibly chuckling to themself. They could only imagine that would be the kind of tale that would represent their story.

Everything they'd been through, all the people they had met on this island. Though it had been painful, it had taught them things they never want to forget.

They had a future now. But well, now Amane knew they'd always had one. It had just been too scary to even try and think of one on their own. But it wasn't their fault.

Now, they knew just how bright the world could be. Now, they knew what it felt like to be loved. Loved without strings, without conditions.

Now, they knew they didn't want to wait until their next life. Now, Amane knew they wanted to live.

Amane knew they wanted to go home.

Their heartbeat quickens as they close their eyes. They imagine all the possibilities they could wish for.

A life as a true disciple to the one and only Itachi Noda. And by disciple, they mean roommate.

Or perhaps them leaned up against the side of a couch, sitting with their legs tucked under a coffee table that belonged to Hiiro.

Days out on the town with Fumiko, arms overflowing with shopping bags and the only worry on their mind being what to decide on having for lunch before going over to her place to hang out.

Fulfilling the promise of attending school together. Amane was already mapping out the plans and paths that would be needed. They were already visualizing a place overseas with Ashleigh and with Elisha raising his hand and speaking before he is even called on.

Perhaps, Shiloh might even be there to stop Lye. Or maybe he wouldn't stop him at all. It was just one of many possibilities.

But the one possibility Amane knew he was sure of was that he'd very likely never see his brother again. But perhaps they'd send him letters, letters they knew he'd never reply to.

More and more thoughts of what lay in store filled Amane's head.

Though they couldn't say there was no fear, Amane was looking ahead without a hint of dread. Whichever future they imagined, and whatever more likely unexpected future they'd experience, Amane was ready.

Come what may, they would find a home in others as much as they would find a home in themself.

A home where they would truly live.

A home where their heart could belong.

After all, a home is where any human would live. And just like everyone they had met upon this arduous journey, Amane was just like them. Amane was just as human.

Perfectly, imperfectly human.

[isledolon]

daylight | hiro

Some people look at the future and see nothing but gray, a bleak prairie stretching on endless, the landscape flat and empty for miles. It fills them with the sort of dread you get driving through the desert, where the road never seems to end, and you never get any closer to the horizon. You start to wonder what the point is in even driving anymore - you can’t see the miles behind you, all of the ground you’ve covered, only what’s ahead. Hiro isn’t like that. He didn’t see a miserable, dreary future. He never saw any future. He never looked.

He’d always been a person laser-focused on the past. It was his strong suit. Out of the two of them, he and Edgar, he was the researcher, the one who gathered information and studied what had come before them. It was Edgar who took that and saw what could come next. Hiro edited the words that Edgar had already said. It was always Edgar who actually kept speaking.

Having never looked, Hiro doesn’t know what his life would have looked like before coming here, what his ideal was. He might have just gone on like he was, forever, his head down and his world silent and lonely. He might have grown old in that hospital, never having left, even though Edgar had discharged himself and made a life a long time ago. Hiro, not Edgar, was the one who was lost that day all those years ago. Edgar was the one in the wheelchair, but Hiro was the one who truly became paralyzed.

But lately, something’s started to turn his head.

He’s started to think he doesn’t want to go home.

For years, he’s trapped himself on a farm in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by reminders of his worst mistakes. Even if people  had forgiven him, or never blamed him, for what had happened, they all knew. No part of his world was unmarred by his past; there was never any chance for a clean slate. Maybe Hiro’s ideal future isn’t to return, untouched, to his life before. Maybe it’s a fresh start. A new life, in a new-old country, with new-old friends. An apartment without a dozen other people in it, his own space to breathe, to unwind, but only a door away from someone whose opinion of him doesn’t start and end with the worst of him. Someone to whom his past is his past, not theirs. A city that doesn’t know him from Adam, full of strangers he doesn’t need to explain himself to. A morning waking up to a person with gold-green eyes, who’s already heard his explanations, who doesn’t need them either. A life separate from Edgar, but never separated, the two of them soulmates who just need to give each other space to breathe.

If Hiro had ever looked at his future before, maybe it would have been bleak. Maybe he would have lost all hope, or trudged on zombie-like to an uncertain later. The gift Edith and Takumi gave him was a future he could never have considered before, an ideal world where he and his mistakes coexist and everything is okay. Where other people’s hands take hold of the heavy burdens he carries until they’re weightless.

It’s a simple life. But he’s a simple man.

Hiro’s greatest wish, at the end of all of this, is for Edith and Takumi to have the simple, peaceful life they've shown him is possible now.

He can’t bring himself to be angry at her like others might be. All he can feel is sad. To be consumed by the things that hurt you, by the people that hurt you, to allow your whole life to revolve around how much it hurts…he knows what that feels like. So here’s what Hiro’s ideal reality looks like, as straightforward and grounded as he is:

There’s a ray of sunlight on the balcony of an apartment, mismatched plant stands and chairs basking in it. There’s a dog asleep just inside the door, right in the last snatched pocket of it before the shadows of a morning not yet fully begun start. There’s coffee brewing in an old 12-cup Mr. Coffee, nothing fancy, a Keurig too much of an investment. There’s fruit half-cut for breakfast as someone steps away for a moment, checking the fridge as their oversized Shadow the Hedgehog shirt skims their knees. There’s a shower running, fog on the bathroom mirror, as someone takes altogether too long on their hair routine. There’s a camera hanging where keys belong, keys themselves tossed on the counter, and not a speck of dirt on the floor.

There’s life inside of the apartment, and back on the balcony, in that ray of sunshine, there’s life outside, too. A beautiful woman tends to the garden, helping ailing flowers to bloom instead of trimming off roses that cut her fingers.

She is a guest. Simply passing by, on her way to wherever she wants to go. But she is welcome, always, and the flowers will bloom long after her touch has left them. Better for having known her, and thriving with their second chance.

Golden light breaks through the twilight, casting prisms where it refracts and breaks. It’s the sort of life you see every day on the street, and it’s beautiful.

{ ♫♫♫ }

[isledolon]

ashleigh.

[ ♪ ♪ ♪ ]

overture.

Home. Think of it.

Inhale, love.

act i.

Ashleigh draws air into her lungs, lets her eyelids fall and summons the house on Lakeview Drive into her mind. She pictures a living room of tastefully neutral furniture and photos on the mantel in painstakingly mismatched frames. A navy blue toy chest with constellations hand-painted in gold. A fall centerpiece and white-wicked, never-burnt candles in crystal holders on the kitchen table. 

Dishes in the sink. Unfolded laundry in a plastic basket. Benadryl on the bedside table. High midafternoon light cutting through the windows like an accusation. They’re almost home. They’re going to see everything you didn’t get done today. Setting dinner plates in front of her husband and sons, watching them exchange glances of mild disgust that turn to amusement when they catch each other. 

Be nice to your mother, Josh mouths. And we can go to McDonald’s later.

A garden and a marriage and a family that need tending, tending, tending, and a ravenous shame slipping into bed beside her each night. 

None of this is even that hard. So why can’t you do it right? 

You chose this. So why can’t you just be happy with it?

Her brow creases. 

No.

No, that’s not home.

That’s the place she came here intending never to see again. That’s the reason she smiled but did not respond when Morihiro Miura invited her to come see him; the reason she never even joked about visiting Hiiro or Mugen or Maria after this was done; the reason she gave Elisha her address instead of promising to take him home herself.

Because just like Edith Thorne and Takumi Minatoya, Ashleigh had no intention, ever, of leaving the way she came. At many points she didn't mind if that meant not leaving at all.

act ii.

I want to go home…! Kanon cries somewhere beside her. 

For one aching golden second, as the threads between all of them draw tight once more, she wonders if she might not still wrap one around her finger and give it a gentle tug. No one else’s life need change at all. She can even leave a version of herself in place to care for Josh and the kids — one that would be happy to do it. 

And she can nudge herself alone into a Lincoln Square apartment with her own playbills on the walls and thrifted furniture in bright colors and a closet of fabulous things that fit an athlete’s lithe, strong body. She can paint these walls herself without consulting anyone. She can leave her own dishes — chipped, chintzy, someone else’s wedding hand-me-downs — undone in the sink and go out at night, beholden to no one else’s bedtime. She can arrange for herself an interesting pet. A rabbit. A bird.

No.

That’s not home, either.

It never could have been.

The truth Ashleigh had long-denied is this: Even if Palladion had happened for her, she might very well have failed there. She might have gotten hurt. She certainly would have arrived anxious and desperate, a miserable combination made worse under pressure. She would overattach to the other girls. She would hurt her own feelings by imagining theirs.

Even if a ballet career had happened, she would have hated herself the whole time. Each cast list would be proof of her inadequacy. Each note from a director would make her sick with fear. 

None of this is even that hard. So why can’t you do it right?

Even if the New York City Ballet made her a principal dancer and feted her at the fundraising gala and cast her as Giselle, she would sit on the stage after dress rehearsal and sob, certain of a disaster at curtains-up the following night. 

You chose this. So why can’t you just be happy with it?

And even if it all went just to plan, thorns carved off each rose, nothing but rosin perfume and warm stage boards for as long as she possibly could have tread them —

She would still find herself somewhere like this, eventually. Shipwrecked beyond the reach of her original purpose, cringing away from the great golden light of possibility. 

Inhale, love.

Let’s try one more time.

Forget the furniture. Fuck the flatware.

act iii.

She lets her surroundings go soft and vague, and she calls the warm weight of her daughter back into her arms. Her fingers card through that fine dark baby hair, and she breathes in time with Olivia’s soft snoring. Two pairs of skinny boys’ arms wrap themselves around her at waist-height. Three souls cling to her in search of warmth, patience, steadiness and safety — and for their sake, she finds these things within when she least expects it.

She discovers a Spider-Man magnet in the nothing-space and fixes a postcard from Mugen to her fridge. He’s back in New York City and back into superheroics; if no one reminds him that they love him, he’ll get badly hurt and forget to blame anyone but himself. For his sake, she summons the courage to buy a plane ticket on her own and wraps a box of homemade cookies.

There’s no security for any modern person without a smartphone, so she lets hers buzz in her pocket and imagines a long chain of texts between herself and Hiiro. They’re each trying to shift themselves out from under their constant fear of life, and this has required signficant discomfort. One medication makes her drowsy and mush-mouthed at all hours; another steals his ability to sleep entirely. He wouldn’t be able to laugh about it without her. Maybe she’d give up entirely without him. For his sake, she lays out her yoga mat each morning and buys a bird-blue pill organizer. 

And — God, Elisha. Whether he remains with her for a long time or only visits, she’ll need a place to keep him. He’ll need much more: A safe place to sleep, appointments at a clinic, rides to and from wherever he intends to go. For his sake, she puts her Mikimoto pearls — sorely coveted, worn only once, abandoned in embarrassment — on a pillow in the guest bedroom and prepares to argue with the Social Security administration.

(Shiloh will need the same kind of help, too, surely. If he'll accept it from her, he'll have it.)

The world fills itself in as she goes down the list. 

For Maria’s sake, she calls and listens and tries, with her help, to figure out how selfish an adult woman deserves to be in this world. 

For Amane’s sake, she makes embarrassing little crafts and pays international shipping to ensure he’s got something he can hang in his new living space. 

For Gaku’s, she buys one of those million-piece paint-your-own-robot kits from Michael’s and texts him about her progress, no matter embarrassed she feels about putting things together wrong. 

For Lisa’s sake, she says what she feels instead of trying to thread it through niceties. 

For Takumi's, she lies beside Peanut in the sun and strokes the fading gold of her fur. 

For Noda’s, she records her boys attempting to do their own magic tricks and send them to him for advice. Fledgling acolytes of the Phoenix-God—! he says, and she laughs as free and easy as the day they played Power Rangers beside the orchard.

What’s everyone so quiet for? Noda says in real life. Do I even see some faltering faces?

And for Josh’s —

For Josh’s sake, she has to forgive them both. 

He asked her to marry him for the same reason she said yes. He was young. He was scared. He didn’t want anything to change. And it didn’t, did it? They had attempted, both of them sincerely, to build a home together without disturbing any of their own habits, disagreeing out loud or pulling one another into discomfiting new adventures. It’s nobody’s fault it didn’t work.

But home isn’t him. It never was. She’ll be honest with him about that someday soon.

For now, her home is still out there in pieces — a lot of assembly required. She may take some of the tasteful furniture and the expensive wine-glasses with her as she searches for it. The rest has to stay behind.

Getting there will hurt. 

Josh will be heartbroken.

The book club will gossip.

Her mother and mother-in-law will agree for the first time: They are furious.

The pastor will try to counsel her against it.

She won’t know she’s arrived until the day she catches herself in the mirror and meets her own eyes without shame.

For her own sake, she has to try.

coda.

“Home,” she says aloud.

She counts them in her mind, all the people she loves. All the people she must continue to love into the future — not as a wife or a mother or any identity another person might give her, but as a fragile little soul enduring all her life’s wonder and heartbreak alongside theirs. 

And to the ranks of her loved ones she adds, with wrenching mental force and no small amount of embarrassment, herself. 

She discovers to her surprise that she is not crying.

“I’ll see you there.”

Exhale.

[ ♪ ♪ ♪ ]

[isledolon]

trial, gold version | gaku

It's baffling to him, how Edith and Gaku's life were almost entirely at odds, yet he still empathized with every choice she made--right or wrong as it was.

Murder. As abhorrent as it was, there was something to be said: unlike him, she'd chosen to take matters into her own hands.

He could've done the same. He could've turned up the gas stove while his parents slept in their vacation house and claimed he'd ran to save his life. He could've brought to ruin his old employer for the months of unpaid labor that nearly brought him to the brink of poverty. Several dozens of times, he could've pushed the CEO off the rooftop, the stairs, the bay window, and watch his body plummet down in the ten most satisfying seconds of his life. But he didn't. Not because he didn't think about it (on the contrary), or because it was apparently illegal, but because staying in line was seen as a valuable trait.

His life was so monotone for it. That was apparently valuable.

(He should've known better, though. For being the most erratic, impatient and disconcerting man, Taisei was eternally patient with him. He'd agreed to never speak of their relationship, he'd proposed four times, he'd even been the one who helped him raise to the position of Director. It was no wonder then, that his patience would wear thin when he'd realized Gaku would not put in the same effort; that he'd rather dedicate to pencil-pushing over the life they've built.)

And even if Gaku was not the one causing the moral failings of Sekaissho, he was still ensnared in the web. It was all happening in front of his two unblinking eyes

(Compromising e-mails from celebrities and young idols,

An old couple losing their life savings because a disjointed voice on the line told them their son had a fatal car crash overseas and needed to pay his medical bill immediately,

A man who fled the prefecture, seeing his family threatened by the local gang he was deeply indebted to,

A young woman with a bright future ahead, stabbed 37 times in her own apartment by her stalker,)

In all honesty, he saw no solution to a calamity that was already entrenched. Even if the company was to burn down, the information was already out there. But--

(Forged evidence. It was so stupid-- the case had been dismissed because of one piece of forged evidence that was mostly insignificant if taken into account, but it jeopardized the entire operation and brought to question the foundation of their case. The thing is, Taisei would not have had to forge evidence if Gaku had done his part. He not only had access to the authentic version of the evidence, but he had more, and he had a direct admission from the CEO himself.

With how things are in the judicial system, and how many people Nakaya has in his pocket, there is maybe a 7% chance that he'll finish what Taisei and his accomplices started. But here's the thing:

He'd rather take the jail sentence than live another day in the uncomfortable comfort of his stable job.)

--he sees now, the merit of vigilantism.

He understands now, why people choose to stand up at the cost their life.

In a way, Edith had done the same, hadn't she?

"You want to live, don't you?"

It's such a simple question, almost ridiculous, maybe threatening in a different context. But his tone is earnest.

"You yearn for life. All that you've done is for the sake of it. The average human does not bring forth such monumental effort to regain a sense of... being alive. A lot, if not the majority, would simply give up."

For someone who preached self-determination to his interns, he'd given up way too young.

"Let's do it, then. Let's do our best to live from now on."

[isledolon]

Live and Learn || Hiiro

"You guys know The Wizard of Oz, right?"

It's the definition of an intrusive thought.

Where Hiiro should be imagining three ruby heeled taps and Judy Garland's soothing Transatlantic voice -- there's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home -- he's instead accosted by the image of a house ripped from the suburbs of Ohio, plopped down square atop Taig Island's very own wishing well, and Eydis' blue legs sticking out from underneath.

♪♪♪

Without any warning, he starts to laugh.

Then, perhaps unsurprisingly, he starts to cry.

As the two sounds mix together, wet and bright and bubbly with a relief so heavy it has him dropping to the ground, it might seem like he's forgotten what it is he's meant to be doing right now. There are no glimpses of imagined futures; no phantom hopes or dreams, no desires made tangible in the visage of the people he's missed-- and believe me, he's missed plenty.

But it's not that he's forgotten, or that there's nothing there. It's just simpler. Quieter. Closer.

It's a firefly glow, low and warm, softly blinking in and out around one person, and then another, and another, in time with the flickering of the night light stone hugged to his chest.

Home has always been people to Hiiro, and he doesn't want to imagine what these homes might look like in the next day, week, month, year--

He wants to see for himself when they get there. When he gets there.

(Because there is something Hiiro has forgotten about.

He's forgotten about a wish.

To be someone else.

Shoulders still shaking with laughter and hiccupped sobs, the soft glow of a wish to go home blinks to life around his own body for a moment. He doesn't want to imagine someone else living in these many homes he's had the honor of finding.

He wants to do it himself.)

[isledolon]

There's So Much To Look Forward To || Noda

A wish... 

That's what this whole game has been about.

Granting one wish.

For his entire life, he's wanted one thing.

Immortality--

...

No. 

To never be forgotten.

A household name that would live in everyone's hearts... so that even if something happened to him, he wouldn't simply disappear. That something he did would mean something to... somebody. Anybody. For all the fantasy he read, and the tales of forgotten heroes who did great things despite no recognition... that couldn't be him. He was never that humble.

But looking at the people around him, the people he's fought with, fought for, held and been held by, and took the time to understand... 

Before there would have been some anxiety in passing up the chance for that wish. What can he say, he's a selfish guy. But now... after all this...

He's not scared to miss out on that.

Because right now, as long as these people remember him... That wish has already been granted.

"What's everyone so quiet for? Do I even see some faltering faces?"

His tone is bright, and booms overhead of other peoples lower, more thoughtful voices.

"I always said, didn't I? That I would find the way out of here! So let's look more excited! Where's the energy?"

"We've got our whole futures ahead of us to look forward to. We shall race toward it, and never look back!!"

He smiles... and as his hand squeezes around the stone, his heart races.

"Hey, Boss,"

The smell of coffee that is way too sweet his liking hits his nose, or at least, the memory of it does. Before him, the memory of a woman with shoulder length black hair claps her hands together in front of him. A prayer not to him, but to some other unnamed deity who would protect her in this situation.

"I maxed out the company credit card while you were gone. Hope you don't mind..."

As Noda grips the stone, sweat beads down his face and he grimaces. Like this wish is starting to give him indigestion--

She sticks out her tongue, and waves her hands. 

"Bleh~ Just joking~❤"

Even recollecting her in his mind, she knows exactly how to push his buttons.

"Candy..."

To the woman standing before him in his mind, he turns... his hand gestures to someone behind... entering the stage.

"There's someone I want you to meet."

There's no turning back now. What happened here on this island, down the line, maybe they can all laugh about it. Despite the risks, and the pain, and somehow even death, they overcame it all. One way or another.

The future is brighter than ever.

What more could you want to wish for, than to see it happen?

[isledolon]

Honoka | Happiness Only Real When Shared

I don’t regret what I did

Honoka had been prepared for that kind of answer. 

You better be ready if I say that I don’t regret it at all! And that I don’t owe anyone anything!

Guilt would not have erased Edith Thorne’s sins. It would not undo her deeds, or bring back the lives she sacrificed for her game. It is only in fairytales that you would see an ending so perfect—the heroes win, the villain repents, and all is good, and all is forgiven. 

Reality is far messier than any written story could ever portray. Understanding doesn’t always come with forgiveness, and there is no easy path forward to ‘redemption’. It’s hard to live in a world with no happy endings. However—

I’ll go with you. If you can… help me see it, too.

—However, Honoka finds that she isn’t as afraid to live in it anymore. Because in what other world would you find a group of people so selfish lonely broken haunted kind flawed and still manage to weave together a story of happiness?

In what other world would you find a love more authentic, than one riddled in imperfections? 

"No matter how hard it is, you have to take the first step. You have to choose to live."

♫♫♫

Here is a snippet of a past that was not too long ago.

A long drive home from a premiere, a smile that doesn’t disappear until you have walked past the threshold, away from the spotlight, away from the stage, away from the peering of an audience.

You kick your shoes away as you walk through the door of the penthouse. The lights are off, colors coming in only from the city below, but you don’t bother to turn them on.

On the walls are posters of movies you have starred in. Some big, some small, but they all stare you down the same as you climb the long stairs to your bedroom. 

Sleep doesn’t come easy to you. You listen to the small ticks of the clock, to the sound of your shallow breaths, to your echoing heartbeat, and are made fully aware:

In this dark and quiet abode, in your castle in the sky, it is only you who exists here.

For the longest time, this has been what ‘home’ meant for Lisa Aikou. 

It was wealth, it was luxury, it was success, 

but it was also silence, it was frigidness, it was her, and only her. 

And she had thought that maybe that was just how homes were always meant to be, for selfish hearts, for witches that take and never give.

…But that’s not true, is it? 

Because this is not a fairytale, and Lisa Aikou was never a witch, and Honoka Matsumoto’s heart wasn’t born selfish. The happy ending that she had longed for has always been there, she just needed to step into the world and see:

Here is the fantasy made real. 

The lights to the penthouse are still on by the time you arrive home from your shoot; its gold standing out against the night. 

You stop at the entrance to take off your shoes, neatly placing them next to a much smaller pair of sneakers.

You are no longer haunted by the ghost of your own smile. Instead, hanging off the walls are pictures of people and places—two people struggling hiking up the world’s tallest mountains, a ski trip in the nordics, a forest, a selfie in front of the eiffel tower, women laughing in a cafe by the Greek isles, an amusement park, a tour around the Big Apple—

Although these people aren’t here with you now, their smiles are never too far from your mind.

There is a sound that comes from upstairs, a giggle and a small voice addressing one of your cats. But just as you are about to climb up, you are stopped by something you see in the glass.

Between the dark sky and the lights of the city below, you catch your own reflection on the window. Although new lines have appeared on your face, there is no longer a trace of the weariness you dragged along with you for over a decade. Instead, within the eyes of the person you finally recognize as yourself, you find something that wasn’t there before—peace, for a soul long starved.

(Honoka feels a tear roll down her cheek. If only she had stopped running, if only she had broken out of the cocoon sooner...

And so for the lonely reflection looking for a place to belong, she channels her grief into a wish.

Words of love once gifted to her, echoed once more into stone—)

“May you never be lonely…ever again.” 

[isledolon]

Let’s Sing Along, Let’s Sing Along || Kanon

It’s all

so

annoying

The scowl she wants to wear so badly won’t come. The defense she’s held so long, so dearly, has disappeared from her arms and left her open and seen. People here have seen the worst of her. People here have seen the most violent and frightened impulses she’s acted on. 

♫♫♫

Why is it, then? That she feels like there’s room to still stand here together? Like she’s got some kind of sick hope she might even be able to belong? 

The world is still so scary. She’s still so scary.

Clutching her stone to her heart, this foolish girl wonders to herself.

It’s a bit too ridiculous to move back home after all of this, isn’t it?

It’s a mortifying idea to try and take center stage.

Hey, mom and dad, do you know I’m sorry even if the words don’t make it out of my mouth?

What a stupid thing to ask. Like people know what you want to tell them if you don’t say it yourself.

That’s what home is supposed to be, isn’t it?

A place that lets you say all the stupid stuff you want, a space to make your mistakes and clean right back up and know that it’s okay to accept the help people who love you want to give.

Who was she ever trying to prove herself to, to cast something that beautiful aside?

There’s a hazy shadow, figures that only she can recognize in the distance; the light accompanying them is blinding, enough to want to look away from, but she’d know them anywhere. A mother and a father and a brother who look at her with the same love she now knows they always did.

It’s the light of a stage she sees, isn’t it? They must be watching her play. How fucking embarrassing, letting them see the dingy, banged up guitar she’d been hiding from them for years now. Belting out the lyrics she’d always been too afraid to let anyone else hear. What a terrible time to have to think of something like this, surrounded by people she so desperately hopes might make it back to see whatever is in front of them now, too.

Kanon feels her knees buckling, clutching that stupid rock tight as she can, wracked with sobs, finally, finally speaking a truth she couldn’t bear to hear through choking wails, a prayer and an admonishment and a true, deep-seated longing:

“I want to go home…!”

[isledolon]

fable | shiloh

I see that you all… do understand.

♫♫♫

(And isn’t it nice, being understood? When the words no longer sit clumsy and foreign on your tongue, and the thoughts are met and matched in kind, and the glass that sits between you and the rest of the world disappears… 

…what happens then?)

…what happens after?

Shiloh doesn’t know. No one can know, really. The handle of his carving knife sits comfortably in the palm of one hand, while the other remains empty. There’s nothing to carve. Not yet. 

But he thinks he might have an idea or two. 

(Once upon a time, there was a little boy who sat alone by his window with a knife, and a block of wood. "If you can’t be outside," his father had said, "you can always bring little pieces of the outside in." And each piece was precious, because it was all he ever thought he’d have.) 

For once, there’s no need to try and fit his thoughts into words. The story plays out around Shiloh just as he imagines it, glimpses of illustrations that appear and vanish as though turning the pages of a book.

(And the boy learned you can make all sorts of little friends out of wood. Swans and bears, and mice, and deer—everything that he'd read about in his stories. They would keep him company, so that he would not feel alone.)

First comes a horse and its selfish groom, and a fox who could not reach grapes high on the vine. A monkey dressed up to be a dancer, and a peacock who made promises it could not keep. An ugly duckling, and a swan, and a raven who could not wash its feathers clean, because there was nothing wrong with the ones that it had. A fox who had lost its tail.

(These were the stories that the boy knew, and so these were the things that he thought must be out in the world that he could not see. He memorized their words, and carved their lessons into his heart. He brought their pieces of the outside in. But there were stories he hadn’t heard yet, and still more to carve.)

A fox left waiting on a bedside table. An unfinished frog dropped from one hand, and caught by another. A horse traded for a bear made of soap. A beetle that sparked a smile. A brand new creature spotted in the clouds. A squirrel and a swan that should have been lost to time, but found their way back again.

(And he did not love every story, or understand all of them as he had the ones that came before. But he listened. He thought there must be an end to them, and he was relieved when he could not find it. There was still more that he wanted to hear, and more that he wanted to carve.)

A fox who had remembered how to smile. A horse cut loose from its heavy cart. A husky who found the limit of its kindness. An owl who was still learning its wisdom, and a turtle who no longer hid in its shell, and a fawn whose spots had faded. A dog whose bark was as big as its heart, a bird who had never dared to stretch its wings, and an old bear who might have been a princess. A rabbit, a cat, weasel, sheep, squirrel—

A nightingale who sang from its heart.

A tiger who learned to shed its stripes.

A mouse and a rat whose tangled tails were cut free, and planted in the dirt as a promise. 

(Once upon a time, there was a little boy who sat by his window, surrounded by a menagerie of poorly carved wooden creatures. He had made his home in his stories, and he felt like there was nowhere else he could ever belong. The world turned on without him as the seasons shifted outside of his window.)

But the story doesn’t finish there. There’s something that makes the boy pause, and the surprise is written across his face.

It sounds like a knock at the door. 

It feels like the sun warming his skin for the first time. 

It smells like pine needles, and it tastes like cold, fresh air in his lungs.

And it looks like…

(Once upon a time, there was a young man standing outside in field, surrounded by the very strange friends that he’d found. Friends not carved from wood, but made up of flesh and bone and hopes and flaws and wishes, and he knows that he’s found where he belongs. The world will continue to turn, and he will turn with it, with them.)

…what happens after?

Shiloh doesn’t know. No one can know, really. 

(Maybe the duckling will finally waddle home because it has friends to show it the way. Maybe the hare will hop up a mountain to cut a path through the snow for the ones behind it. Maybe the songbird will sing of the woods it loves so very much, and people will be there to listen to everything it has seen. 

Maybe by next spring, a mouse-tail plant will have grown with enough tails for many, many more promises.

He hopes so.)

It will be a good story, he thinks.

[isledolon]

Shidou || Hollow Moon

What he wished for the most? Well now...

Looking back on it now, Shidou feels a little embarrassed to have wished for something so trivial as praise all that time ago. Before the deaths; his own, his brother's, even his friend's.

Friends. The word still sounds so foreign in his head, and were you to ask him out loud he would vehemently deny it. Shidou Uwasawa doesn't do friends. He sneers and insults and keeps people at arms length. There's only ever been room in his life for one person, and that someone was back home. He's never needed anyone else.

Until recently that is.

Now there are people who are actually fond of him. He still can't wrap his head around it, that there would be others who like him for how he is. For how prickly and difficult he can be. No matter how much he pushed people away, people still managed to worm they way inside. Taking up space in that tiny heart of his, despite all his objections.

Now they're stuck there, and Shidou is stuck in the present with an even greater dilemma.

What does he want?

♫♫♫

Somewhere in the maybe future, dressed in extravagant silks and decor sits a lonely god in her even lonelier shrine. It's quiet in the night, nestled away in the woods. Only the night ambiance and it's buzzing insects are there to keep Tsuki-no-kami company in the dead of night.

She sighs, staring out the window. With so much weighing on her mind she barely notices when someone else decides to join her. Someone who knew these grounds better than even herself.

"...Shidou?"

He's gotten a lot of mail recently. Ever since he's returned home his inbox has been flooded. Postcards, letters, gifts- he's sure the postal man is annoyed with him by now. Shidou doesn't even know what to do with them all. He writes back to some, ignores others, and is increasingly baffled by most.

But there's still one person he hasn't addressed yet.

A plain white envelope. That's what Tsuki see's offered to her. Outstretched in his hands, Shidou bows as low as he can. His head nearly touching the floor. Tsuki notices a tremble in his hands.

Before she can ask him what's wrong, he's already blurting out-

"I'm so sorry."

Those are the only words he can muster the strength to say out loud. Apologies have never been his forte, remorse even less so, but what he can't say himself he's written down. For everything he's done to make her life harder, for failing to find her sister, for coming back alone- anything and everything he could think of he wrote down.

It's not a very good apology, but it's the start of one.

Shidou Uwasawa cannot mend all of the bridges he's burnt down. He doesn't even want to fix them all truth be told, some resentments running too deep even for like him. Even now he's still just as moody and unpleasant as always.

But for the few people he likes, for the few who call him a friend?

He wants to try and be better.

[isledolon]

Love Will Not Leave You | Mugen

What is it that Mugen wants more than anything else? When he arrived on this island he would probably say something like...

LOVE AND JUSTICE AND PEACE ON THE PLANET EARTH FOREVER!!!!!

and if he was forced to tell the truth it would be...

I want to bring him back to life and take away this guilt and longing in my heart...

But he doesn't need to wish for a revival anymore. The wounds around his heart have finally been bandaged, after ten years of constant picking, digging, and infection his heart can finally begin to heal. The scars will always remain, but they aren't anything for him to feel ashamed about...nothing for him to lament anymore. 

Mugen will always hold Stiles in his heart...

The red-eyed black shadow manifests itself again as an object born from Mugen's curse stone. The Power Ranger that shines in his hand. It wraps itself around Mugen one last time...

"Hero's Promise, right?"

It whispers to him and just as quickly as it came it and its words vanish to the wind for the last time. Mugen grips the Power Ranger in his hand even tighter. No tears to be shed, merely flutters of the heart to be felt.

Mugen turns his dots to Edith and...he knows that he doesn't want that other wish anymore either.

Love and Justice and Peace on the Planet Earth Forever!!! wasn't something that should be granted by a wish, it's something that needs to be created by the people living on Earth.

It's work that Mugen has been trying to do, that he will continue to do, and that he will never stop doing. That's what Mugen wants right now more than anything, he wants to go home and go back to making the world a better place in any way that he can.

Do everything and try his best to prevent another tragic and anxiety ridden existence like the one of Edith Thorne. If he can put in the 110% that he knows he can to make the world safer for people like her then he's going to fucking do it!!!

No wish needed!!

Before all of that though...Mugen has a more selfish wish that's more simple and that's just to go home and be with those that he loves again. They fill his mind, he can't help but feel the warmth in his heart grow all the bigger from imagining the future.

[♫♫♫]

Beside him, a shorter man with shaggy blonde hair and an eye patch over one dot is holding up what looks to be a figure of an anime robot. His...speech is so very familiar...

"Mugen!! My boy! Look at this figure I just put together!! You gotta come over and see it in person! I know you're busy but you know I baked a looot of cookies!! Your favorite ones with the sprinkles that I alwaaays used to make for you!! All for you, my boy!! You just gotta come look at my cool robot!! And your mom misses you too!!"

As quick as he says that, a short woman with long and glistening white hair. She appears at Mugen's other side with a large cut of sparkling red fabric. Her voice is calm and needy.

"Mugen, are you busy right now? I know you've been dealing with the school year ending soon. If you do have the time would you mind helping me figure out what to do with this. I have way too much of it and it'd be nice if I could make it into something? Does Kaguya like this color? Draw up something she would like."

And next poking Mugen from behind was a short blonde-haired girl with her hair pulled back into two low-hanging ponytails...her tone is callous and biting.

"This month's rent is due. Where's your half of it, hero?"

Mugen wants this back...He wants to go home and be with them again, those people in his life that make all of it worth persevering for. No matter how hard it is he has people he can always rely on to be there...

But it's not just them. The phantoms of his loved ones vanish back to the curse stone they were manifested from.

Mugen turns to give a brief glance at the people he's suffered through this ordeal with...He has them now too. He has so many new friends and that love he feels for them blossoms from the curse stone in too many ways! It's a kaleidoscope full of nothing but scenarios of love pulled from his imagination! No longer will it imagine the ways that they will die...it will imagine the ways that they will all live!

For every detail he doesn't know it is filled in with his fantasy.

Mugen is welcomed into Ashleigh's home on a pleasantly warm spring day! There's a tree in her front yard that is flowering in beautiful shades of white and pink. Her house isn't huge but just enough to suit her...Live Laugh Love hanging from wall to wall. Children's art projects and photos...Would this be what she wants?

The fantasy fizzles to Mugen and Ashleigh side by side on the streets of New York City!! There's nowhere more free than the streets of the Big Apple on a sunny summer day! The light beats down on them but it isn't too hot. They hold in their hands ice cream cones that are melting down and onto their hands. Mugen's nails under the lukewarm cream are of course the most brilliant shade of blue, painted of course by Ashleigh. Maybe they’ll see a Broadway show today.

Mugen dressed in bright red stands tall on a building with the night sky and shining city line being the backdrop of his fantasy. Behind him is another man dressed in bright blue. They both move quickly to strike a heroic pose that fits so perfectly into each other’s! Of course!! This could be nobody else but the superhero Mega Super Ranger Red and his superhiiro protege, Turbo Hyper Ranger Blue!!! 

Two that will beat the ass of evil all across the world!!!!!

They leap from the rooftop with a loud shout as they prepare to bring their fists down on evil!!!

“Mega Hyper Finisher Deluxe Duo Infinity Color Burst!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Their fists collide with a shadow at the bottom of their fall and the fragment explodes into a true kaleidoscope of colors in all directions!!

Mugen uses a stick to brush through the foliage of the woods as he wanders through with a bright smile on his face. It seems like he’s alone but there is certainly something behind him…a predator stalking out its prey. It prepares to strike, it’s quick from the shadows! Elisha from behind him smacks him in the head with a stick and Mugen throws himself around to smack Elisha right back with his own. 

There is no pain or malice in it…Only laughs and fun…Mugen hopes so at least…Elisha confuses him but he still wants to have fun with him too.

Mugen stands between Maria and Edith, all of them donning outfits you would see on a chef TV show. Mugen holds his knife with an unsteady hand while Maria and Edith move circles around him. Yet, they pitch in to help…at least when Mugen finds himself about to place a bar of chocolate on an oiled pan. 

The meal they make is something grand…mostly due to the efforts of Maria and Edith but it was a group project all the same! 

Mugen is holding the hand of…

“I’m going to show my friend Edith to everyone in town wearing a sa-”

Mugen is assisting in the back of a soup kitchen in New York City! He has no capabilities in the kitchen but he can at least pitch in with preparing ingredients and passing them off to the one that can really make them work. Edith is here doing her part in a world that doesn’t feel as scary, one where she can smile and do her part in making the world a more safe place for herself and all others…

Dream after dream seeping from his stone…hiking, games, sports, events, so many things being experienced together with everyone on the island. Each one will themself somewhere in Mugen's joyous dreams. He knows that these are just fantasies and dreams. Merely figments of his imagination that he wishes could one day be true…

He hopes they can be…The dreams fade back to the stone...

He wishes that these happy dreams can become tomorrow’s shining reality.

[isledolon]

hope that blooms with darkness nigh || Maria

Guilt still strikes the pieces of her heart at Edie’s words, but you just said…

Yes, she did.

Yes, how careless.

A few hours ago she trusted Edith with her heart and soul. But that’s the funny thing about trust, isn’t it? A patient walks in, you tell his family the potential complications, but assure them, I’m optimistic! and they trust you, they trust you, they do not know you but they trust your smile.

But when your optimism is misplaced and that 1% chance complication comes to pass, you silently bear the screams I trusted you, he trusted you!

Well, why’d you do something so stupid as that? you don’t ask, but wonder. Trusting another person? Idiot. I’m just a human. I’m as stupid as you.

Looking at Edith now, Maria wonders the same of herself. One word, one action and the steady bond of trust is broken on the floor. But she would still sit with that lonely girl in the hospital without a second thought – all night, if needed. After Lisa had killed her, she nearly went scorched earth on the idea of friendship – and god fucking knows, it might be best to keep it that way. But she can imagine texting Lisa at 4 am, and she can imagine the same with Edith.

She inhales. Well, we will have the rest of our lives to fix this, if we can.

She collects broken relationships like broken dolls, but – but

♫♫♫

A phone rings; archaic and on the wall with a long spiral cord you can twirl while you talk.

Maria looks up, inhaling. Agatha sits lazily on the couch, waiting for a lap upon which she can cuddle. Agnes yaps very bravely at her neighbours leaving their apartment. Around her is no longer the lonely island she’s gotten used to, but, the vague and swimming memory of a condo in downtown Toronto.

The answering machine that has documented her whole life, picks up – a message that used to be two giggling university students long deleted for a bland, “It’s Maria, I’m busy right now. Please text or email me. If you don’t have my cell or email, I don’t want to talk to you. Thanks.”

Her mother sighs, long and ever suffering.

“Mary, honey, you know I can’t text well with these old fingers. Are you making dinner? Talk to your mom at the same time, okay?”

In the kitchen, Maria of the future looks from a bubbling mess in a pot. Her hands are covered in sugar, after all, if she packs it with ice packs, she thinks she can ship a treat to everyone in Japan, a little silicon mold in the shape of a rabbit sits waiting to become a gift to a grumpy young man.

Maria here and now, curls her nose as who she used to be ignores her mothers message, fist curled around this stupid fucking stone. And she peels away, scooping up the still barking Agnes with her sugary hands and picks up the phone.

“Hi, Mum. I’m just baking… you know, I’ve been thinking and I might take that offer from the hospital in Halifax.

I just, you know. I want to help people. I still do.”

I want to help people.

I want to move to Halifax and be able to visit mum on the weekends I get.

I don’t want to lie to the people of my hometown who supported me for so long anymore.

“Yeah, I think I’ll drive. Can you imagine Agnes in a plane? I’d hear her down in cargo the whole time, Ma. Yeah.” A smile curls her lips as the phone wedges in her shoulder and ear. “I’ll call you when I have it all sorted out, okay? You don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

She hangs up, setting her wiggling dog to the ground where she instantly runs to antagonize her cat sister, soon her living room is a chase scene befitting an episode of Scooby-Doo. She smiles before her eye catches the high boiling pot of sugar syrup, and she gasps.

For once in Maria’s life she no longer fears the future. She can and will face it.

She thinks, it’s not so bad, living in this world. I think I love it, and the people in it–

And someday, maybe even myself.

[isledolon]

Elisha | Tin Man

Elisha still isn't sure he understands what love is.

Because people do awful things for the sake of it, Because people do terrible things for lack of it, To have it, to lose it, to covet it, to celebrate it--

Is it human to love?

He doesn't think so.

(At least, he hopes it isn't, because he's not sure he's ever done it right, and if he can't do it right, then does he qualify? Does Edith?)

But, he thinks it's human to want to love--

Even not knowing what it should feel like, (If the quickening of the heart is fear or joy?) or what it should be like, (If it's supposed to feel like cutting off the edges of a puzzle piece to fit,) or who to share it with, (If you love because they're near, or keep them near because they're loved,) or how to express such a thing. (Or how to express such a thing,)

So when Edith asks them all-- why-- The answer in his heart is-- because you Want.

What does Elisha want? He looks down at the ugly twisted piece of metal in his hands and smiles to himself.

"It's funny t'ey're still called curse stones. Like, our souls t'emselves are a curse."

And if what Takumi says is true, he could curse them all-- with his Wanting. With his Love. It would be one last outpouring of all of that boyish, needy insecurity. The dark mire of his heart like a warm tarpit, eager to hold the others close and keep them unchanged forever. He closes his eyes and reaches deep down for that feeling--

--but, it's not there.

And relieved of the burden of his heart, the tin man laughs with a realization:

Love isn't something you hold. It's something you breathe, chase, fight, and discover.

Love is a verb, not a noun, love is a journey, not a destination, love is the song of a bird and an arrow nocked and the heat of tears on the thumb and a firefly cupped between the palms and the recognition of a mask and the baring of wounds and just because it comes and goes doesn't mean it's gone. You don't have to carve it into the flesh to make it real.

"... I t'ink it's a beautiful t'ing to be a curse."

And this time he doesn't smile and he doesn't laugh-- he just sighs, a deep relief settling in his bones and slowing his heart and tingling in his fingertips as he loosens his grip on the rusty jaws of cold metal. With the matter of his heart settled, he turns his thoughts to home.

Home. Home. Take them home. Where was home?

Home was a place you fled. Home was a grave painstakingly dug and narrowly missed. Home was an exasperated sigh, a hand held, a soft voice. Home was a slip of paper in the breast pocket with a number.

He's surprised that he knows so many different kinds of home. His heart lives in the past, in a suit case rotting at the bottom of a swamp, and in the future, making out of color remarks in a lecture hall and waiting for the gentle reprimand. He wants more of them, greedy soul that he is-- home found in movie theaters and livestreams and hospital rooms and music and dance and photos and pet names and wrestling and expectation and arguments and struggle and

and home in a friendship with Shiloh Hvitkaldsen, not because they have to,

but because they want to.