#anyways the sasharcy nation got fed last week

[kaseyskat]

felt inspired by one of vinnie's recent arts and had to write a little sasharcy piece because... i care them very much thanks

~~

Her favorite cape is torn. 

Well, calling it her favorite cape when they’re all the same is… not entirely correct, and yet Marcy had only sewn pockets into one of her capes– the one she had been wearing for most of her time with her friends. Sure, she has others, but she had only had the time and nervous energy to add pockets to that one cape, so it was, by default, her favorite. 

And now it’s torn straight through the middle, burnt at the edges. 

This is fine, Marcy tells herself, staring down at the cape in her hands. I’m just being silly. I have other capes. I don’t even need a cape, do I? I mean, this isn’t some fun fantasy anymore… I don’t need a cape right now. 

Yet she can’t move, staring transfixed at the spot where her cape is torn down the middle. If she concentrates hard enough, she think she can see the fire of the sword ripping through fabric, through flesh, through everything, taking out her last chance at atonement with it. 

“Marmar?” 

There is something heartbreaking in the way her stomach drops at the name, orange crowding around her vision before her brain catches up and realizes that the voice isn’t Andrias’s, isn’t The Core’s– it’s Sasha, and Sasha’s hands are gently holding Marcy’s wrists, and that means surely she can see the torn cloak too, right? 

Marcy trembles, but she forces a smile anyways. “Oh. Hi Sasha.” 

“You’ve been staring at this thing for like, twenty minutes now,” Sasha says, and while her tone is amused, her eyes are sad and far away. She must be thinking about it too, Marcy thinks. “Or longer, that’s just when I came back from letting General Yunan treat me. Are you…” 

She doesn’t finish the sentence, and Marcy doesn’t really expect her to. Sasha doesn’t ask people if they’re okay, just like she rarely apologizes for her actions even when they have negative consequences. It’s a fact of life; Sasha is the type of person to assume people are okay even after a scolding, and continue on like nothing happened. Marcy had admired that about her once, because she could never have that courage, no matter how much she tried to copy it. 

“I wish I knew why he did it,” she says, answering the silent question. “But I don’t want to ask him, so I guess I will never know. It’s… funny, a little bit, isn’t it? That despite it all, we’re still here?” 

“Not funny,” Sasha says quickly, and she’s frowning at the cape dubiously. “Marcy, you can’t wear that one, it’s damaged.” 

I noticed, thanks, Marcy thinks dryly– but she doesn’t dare say so out loud. 

“I was taught how to sew by… while I was with the toads. Let me patch it up for you first?” And maybe there’s a quiet apology in the offer, because while Marcy doesn’t doubt that Sasha now knows how to sew, she can’t think of any other reason why Sasha would volunteer to patch up her cape. 

“Uh,” she answers, very smartly. 

“Here, you can just borrow mine in the meantime.” Sasha, who had only just gotten her cape back from Grime after they had both gone to be checked up for injuries, unclips it, her cheeks flushed red as she drapes the furry monstrosity over Marcy’s shoulders. 

It’s… warm. Fluffy. Not as scratchy of a texture Marcy had thought it’d be for a cape made entirely of fur, she almost wants to bury herself into it instead. It reminds her of something out of some animated fantasy movie, but she can’t quite put her finger on it– nevertheless, it’s… a decent, not brutally torn cape. 

“Wow,” she blinks, and her face is burning up now– she has to resist the urge to bury it into the cape. “Thanks, Sash.” 

“Hey, no problem,” Sasha smiles, though it’s strained, and she quickly looks away. “Now come on, don’t wanna keep Anne waiting.” 

“Right, right.” Marcy hesitates, and then commits, reaching for Sasha’s hand. Sasha lets it happen, holding the torn cape tucked underneath her other arm, and it’s out of Marcy’s sight so she doesn’t have to think about it anymore, and she smiles to herself. 

And if she leans a little bit too heavily into Sasha’s side so that Sasha’s forced to readjust the cape and hold Marcy’s back instead to keep her upright… well, she has her reasons.