#fun fact: I learned the two theatre masks have names which i did not expect

[bloodcounts]

do you think if sarah were totheark/had a masked ego, she would wear a theatre mask?

[lostbutterflyutau]

Still in Love

Note: Written for the EoA appreciation week prompt of the same name, the beach used to be a fun place. Sun, sand, laughter... memories. Now, a year after the dissolution of her marriage, Carla only finds reminders of what used to be.

Part of the For My Broken Heart songifc collection.

*** We walked side-by-side

Leaving footprints in the sand

Now only my footsteps remain

When the tide rolls in

Now time is moving

Faster than before

And now we can’t even

Seem to find the shore ******

Carla stared down at her still-untouched wine glass as the chatter around her continued. Somehow, the conversation had gone from frustrations regarding recent events at work to plans for Lila’s wedding. From the bits and pieces she was picking up, Carla learned that Lila wanted something big and extravagant on the beach they were currently camped out on. It wasn’t what she would have picked, but then again, what did she know? It didn’t matter how beautiful her wedding had been. Not when it was nothing more than a memory long gone.

She flicked her eyes up briefly, the reality of the situation setting in as, with a quick glance around the fire, she realised she was the only single person in the group. It was the same when she hung out with her friends, most of whom were married and, if they didn’t already have children, were talking about having them. But these people weren’t her friends. They were just colleagues. People she had to associate with due to her job. It wasn’t that she minded. Not really. They were nice enough both on and off the clock and had been more than helpful in getting her into the swing of things during the first wedding she assisted with, but they also weren’t her friends.

With a silent sigh, Carla set down her glass and grabbed her shoes, keeping them in her hand as she stood. Luckily, no one said anything. In fact, she’d wager they didn’t even notice. Not that she expected them to. She had only agreed to come because of how nice they’d been in inviting her. For a moment, she wondered if her mask had started to crack. Did they finally notice how fake her smiles were? Or how she avoided questions about “true love” when brides asked?

One last look back at the group around the fire told her that no, they didn’t notice she’d moved. Nor did she think they had any inkling of the mess she hid with cute dresses, ribbons, headbands, and professional smiles. On the one hand, it spoke to her acting skills, something she’d not only spent years perfecting, but had recently put into practice through a side gig at the local theatre. On the other, not having anyone to talk to only brought to the surface the loneliness she worked so hard to bury each and every morning as her reflection stared back at her, eyes filled with a lingering sadness that she had yet to come to terms with.

It had been a rough year since she signed the papers and took off. After that night it was a few months before Elena finally tracked her down to reconnect, something that she was grateful for. Initially, she thought she would be fine on her own -- and she was, in a sense. It took weeks to secure both her jobs, but she luckily had saved up and brought enough money to cover the rent on her little cottage on the water. In truth, she probably didn’t even need the two jobs, but she liked working. As hard as it was to spend hours a week looking over and discussing wedding plans while rehearsing for her bit parts and helping out at the theatre, it kept her busy and gave her more to focus on than her thoughts. Those first few weeks were miserable. All she remembered about them was unpacking interspersed with bouts of what felt like endless crying as she grappled with her new reality and trashed much of her old one.

Carla stopped, took in a breath as she tilted her head up towards the sky to look over the stars, the smallest of smiles forming when one shined back at her. She liked to think it was her mother telling her that it was okay. Her conflicted and complicated feelings were more than valid. She then turned from the sky to the path ahead.

Luckily, the group had settled in a place not far from her home, so she was able to escape when she did without worrying about how she’d get back. It wasn’t right in her backyard, but she didn’t mind the walk. The location was beautiful, and she considered herself lucky to have found such a nice place at a reasonable price, which she figured was probably due to how isolated it was from the city.

Isolated. Alone. Solitary.

Different words that all held the same meaning and said exactly how she felt. It was almost like when she was younger and being moved around from place to place with only her father for company, ‘almost’ being the key word. This time, it hit so much harder. Back then, loneliness was the only thing she’d known. She even believed at one point that she didn’t need or want friends. But now that she’d experienced having not only them, but a bigger family who was there for her alongside her father and the fairy-tale romance she had always dreamed of as a child – or, rather, what she had  believed was the fairy-tale romance of her dreams – it was hard to steel herself back to accepting a life of solitude.

She supposed that she hadn’t truly lost all of those things. It was true that her relationship with Gabe would never recover in any shape or form, no matter how much she still loved him, but she did still have her other friends. Sort of. Moving across the kingdom meant that she rarely saw anyone from her old life in person. They mostly just wrote from time to time and she wrote back, which she preferred. It was so much easier to lie in her letters and play things off. But she also knew deep down that those relationships wouldn’t be the same as they were before. Everyone was grown now with families of their own. Well, almost everyone. Both Naomi and Moana revelled in their singleness. Neither were in a rush to settle and both loved their chosen ventures. And that was fine. Fortuna had been the same and even marriage didn’t faze her. Her stepmother was still as headstrong as ever, which Carla figured was one of the things that drew Victor to her.

Carla took in a shaky breath in an attempt to ward off the tears that always came at night. She wished so much that she could be the same. That she could be okay with being ‘single and free’ and ready to jet off at a moment’s notice. But she wasn’t. She couldn’t be. She wanted a relationship. And now she had almost none of any kind. Her friends were barely in her life anymore and she doubted they would ever be again. Not because they didn’t care, but because they had their own lives. This mess was hers.

Mostly.

As she trudged on, vaguely aware of the familiar feel of the sand against her feet, she thought not for the first time about how he was handling it all. She wanted to hate him. God knows she did. It would be so much easier to just be mad. To kick and scream and throw her rage into the ocean in front of her. But she wasn’t.

“Why?” She said to herself, kicked at the sand. “Why couldn’t we make it better? I tried. I really did.” Carla sighed again, dropped her shoes so she could free her hand, using it instead to help climb her way up onto the large rock she’d stopped in front of. It was a place she was attracted to shortly after arriving. One to just sit and relax and dip her feet in the water without the annoyance of sand in her dress. Once she reached the flat surface at the top, she brushed it off with her hand and took her usual place. She gave a fleeting glance up to that star again as she reached into her pocket before turning her attention to the locket in her hand.

“Mama, I know I ask this a lot, but does it ever get better? When do I stop loving him and start loving myself? That’s what used to happen in my books,” She looked up again, turned her focus back to that star and, with shaky breath, gave in and let the silent tears fall.

She used to spend hours poring over romance books and dreaming about what her ‘Happy Ever After’ would look like. Stories littered with cliched plots and characters that provided nothing more than an escape from her rough-and-tumble lifestyle. She knew they were stupid and cheesy and mostly fake, but she had loved it at one point. It had been a long time since she even picked up one of those novels. The last time it wasn’t even to read them. It was to pack them away with the other belongings she had shipped to Nueva Vista. She hadn’t opened them since, but also didn’t have the heart to give them up or throw them out. Not yet. There were too many good memories intertwined with those pages.

She’d instead starting reading books about magic – which she studied almost religiously – and adventure and whatever her friends sent her way. Anything to get away from the lies about true love and eternal happiness.

“I don’t get it,” Carla found herself saying as she kicked at the water. “You and Papa found it. Heck, Papa even found it again.” She frowned at herself for even entertaining the idea that, if he could learn to love again, maybe she could too because she knew she couldn’t. Papa was different. He was widowed and had his daughter to focus on after his wife’s death. What happened was no one’s fault. And while it hurt him deeply, it was also a special circumstance. He hadn’t been neglected and then dumped and forced to start all over while having the stigma of a broken marriage on his back. Something she hid from absolutely everyone that wasn’t in her inner circle.

As far as her colleagues knew, she was a single lady who’d never been married and, though she tried, just hadn’t found “the one.” Her only one.

She reached up at the thought, wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan. A person only got one chance at having the one. Their one big love. The kind of whirlwind romance described so often in novels. Others may come and go, but there would always be that one. The one you always remembered and held onto years later, if only in your heart. She was so sure she’d had it. After all they had been through before and after marriage, there was no way it was all a fluke.

She kicked the water again, looked up and out at the ocean. She couldn’t see much, only a few waves dancing in the moonlight with the occasional blip of shimmer that told her there were Sirenas out and about. Though she didn’t often talk to them – or anyone outside of her work colleagues for that matter – she saw them a lot. The same rock she was currently sitting on was a favourite spot of theirs as well and there’d been many a morning where she’d stepped out on her back porch to see two or three of them sitting and conversing. It was something that – if she had more talent in that area – would make a great painting. She saw it so clearly in her mind. The sun, the sea and the fun air popping off the canvas and adding a stark contrast to the dark vastness she often stared at in these moments.

What used to be as much fun for her simply wasn’t anymore. At one time, the beach was a happy place. The sound of the waves was both an excellent lullaby and a calm reminder of what used to be. The last time she’d visited for more than a moment of contemplation was over a year ago.

Carla recalled waking up that day with high hopes and smiling as she wrote out the message detailing her plan. She hoped and prayed that it would work. It had to work. The beach was a special place for them. One filled with laughter and light and memories of picnics and sunset walks. Unfortunately, she found that hope wasn’t enough. After waiting for two hours, she picked herself back up and trudged home. It wasn’t until days later that she found out that while he received her note, he never read it. Or any of the ones she’d sent over the past few weeks. She remembered so clearly the way she felt the cracks in her heart growing as she stared down at the stack of envelopes Armando had given her. He hadn’t meant to find them. He’d actually been searching for another document when he opened that desk drawer by chance. Not that she ever blamed him. He was just the messenger. In fact, she was glad that he said something. Then she knew to stop writing them. She never confronted her husband though. Didn’t see a point in it, really. It wasn’t until she made up her mind to leave that she bundled up the letters and tied them together, leaving them with the signed dissolution paper as a last trace of her presence.

She gave another heavy sigh, wiped her face a second time before finally shifting to climb down. As hard as it was to come by some nights, she needed to sleep. It was getting late and she had an early morning rehearsal before working a bridal shower the next afternoon.

Once on the ground, she swiped up her shoes, turned to head up the path home, looking back only once to see the single set of footprints in the sand and wishing, not for the first or last time, that she could turn things back to when there were two. *****

So, tell me…

Why can’t we make it better?

Because all that I know

Is found in you  

I’m missing your love

I’m missing your face

All of our past…

You let it erase

[bearnakedlady-blog]

Aspik

Also posted here:

Marinette was definitely surprised to learn that Chat Noir did, in fact, know how to apply make-up. He knew which moisturizer went best with her skin tone, and where to apply the highlighter. The boy even knew how to do a smokey eye, which was quite an experience with both his claws and a pencil so close to her eyes. And when she tried to show him her stash of lipstick, he’d forgone every shade of red for a pretty nude. “You should only have one pop, and if you’re already wearing red, you don’t need any of these”, he’d said before asking her to pucker her lips.

It was weird but fun having him give her a make-over, especially when he painted her nails. She didn’t mention that it would be pointless, just enjoying his company. The only issue was trying to recreate his masterpiece the next evening. It took her a couple of tries, especially with the eyes, but she couldn’t complain about the results. Maybe Chat Noir’s true calling was in fashion, not crime fighting.

She was reluctant to transform and hide so much of her hard work but there was nothing to be done about it. A few words and a flash of pink later and she was off to the theatre. It was Adrien’s turn to pick their date, though he’d had no desire to have it be a surprise. The cinema was doing a showing of Howl’s Moving Castle and he needed her to see it. His words, not hers.

She wasn’t running late, but, after last time, she wasn’t nearly an hour early either. So, when she touched down around the corner of the theatre, she wasn’t surprised to see Adrien already there. She was surprised to see Lila talking to him though. The girl had been conspicuously missing from class recently, not that Ladybug was complaining. Adrien was visibly distressed, trying to distance himself from her as she clung to his sleeve.

“You’ve got to listen to me, Ladybug is out of control.”

Adrien yanked his arm away, looking around frantically. “Look, Lila, I get that you are upset, but you don’t have to lie. I’m not mad, I just don’t want you saying any more hurtful things.”

“No! You don’t understand.” Lila moved closer to Adrien and Ladybug started sprinting to the pair. “Look, I know I shouldn’t say this, but I’m Volpina, so I know what’s really going on. Ladybug is the liar here, she’s not fighting Hawkmoth, she’s working with him. Carapace, Chat Noir, and I are working to stop her. Haven’t you wondered why we don’t see Queen Bee anymore? Ladybug destroyed her Miraculous.”

Ladybug could not believe the words she was hearing. If she thought any of her other stories were farfetched, this one took the cake. She reached them just as Adrien recovered enough to respond with more than a bewildered look. “Lila, that’s ludicrous. You cannot expect me to believe a single word of what you just said.”

“Is there an issue?” Adrien and Lila jumped, both startled by her appearance, though Adrien looked relieved, while Lila seemed decidedly pleased.

“No, I was just saying goodbye to my classmate.” He leveled Lila with a look that said their conversation was over. “C’ mon, we don’t want to miss the trailers.”

Before he could take her arm, Lila jumped between them, eyes manic. “You can’t Adrien! She’s going to hurt you!” Lila bent over, hands clamped firmly on her ears and eyes squeezed shut. Ladybug shoved Adrien behind her, gaze hunting for his bodyguard who was uncharacteristically absent.

“Maybe I should go-” Adrien was cut off by Lila’s scream as her eyes snapped open, a familiar purple mask glowing on her sneer.

“Everyone, clear out!” Ladybug shouted, grabbing Adrien and swinging out of the way.

It was too late though, “You’re right Hawkmoth, only I can protect Adrien now”, Lila was covered in violet miasma as she transformed, her skin turning inky black as mandibles sprouted from her face.

Ladybug turned to Adrien, nudging him towards the throng of people running from the Akuma. “Hurry, you need to get to safety.”

Adrien nodded and made to leave, but Lila, now Tale Spinnerette, launched a glob of sticky silk right at him, effectively capturing him. “Tsk tsk tsk Ladybug”, she mocked, reeling him in, “If you ever want to see Lover Boy, here again, I think you know what I want.”

His mouth was covered in the webbing, so all Adrien could manage was distressed mumbling, but his eyes were wild. Ladybug was petrified as she watched in horror. This was exactly why she’d been reluctant to go public with their relationship. She’d have to apologize to Tikki later. Tale Spinnerette lifted him up, fangs bared, and hissed, “Looks like Ladybug doesn’t care after all. Maybe now you’ll believe me.”

That snapped her out of her downward spiral. Ladybug threw her yo-yo in the air with a” Lucky Charm”, and was relieved beyond belief to be rewarded with a can of bug spray. She didn’t have time to look for the akumatized item, pouncing to Tale Spinnerette and spraying her in the face with insecticide. The Akuma dropped Adrien with another hiss, allowing Ladybug to pluck him up and bound away.

“You can’t run from me Ladybug! I will get your Miraculous!”

Ladybug didn’t stop running till she couldn’t see the theatre at all, setting Adrien down gingerly and removing his bindings. “Are you okay?” she asked tearfully as his gag came off.

“I’m fine Lovebug, just a little tied up is all.” He even managed a weak smile that sent her into hysterics. She couldn’t tell if she was laughing or crying, she just knew she was losing her grip.

“Where is that cat?” she murmured under her breath when she could finally reign herself in. “I swear if he’s too tired after last night, I’ll wring his neck.”

Adrien wriggled out of the rest of the webbing and pulled her to him. “Hey, I’m sure he’s on his way. Why don’t I find somewhere safe to hide, so you don’t have to worry-”  A crash sounded and a glob of silk shot past them, trapping a civilian to the wall behind them.

“There’s no use hiding Ladybug, my web catches all!”

“Crap”, Ladybug stood, pulling Adrien up with her, “I’ve got maybe three minutes left, and she is getting closer.” She looked around desperately, trying to find any way out.

Adrien took her hands in his imploringly, “I can just go hide out of the way, you don’t have to worry. I believe in you.”

Ladybug bit her lip, considering his words. She couldn’t fight with him near, he’d be a liability, but if she hid him what would keep Tale Spinnerette from going after him instead? She didn’t have time to hide him, recharge, and get back in the fray without back-up. Back-up. She stopped panicking and really looked at Adrien. Chat Noir wasn’t there and she didn’t have time to find Alya, Nino, or even Chloe. But she did have time to make it to Master Fu’s.

“I need you to hold on tight. This might get a little choppy.”

Adrien didn’t hesitate, wrapping his arms around her right before she flicked her wrist and flung them to the sky. And not a second too soon, Tale Spinnerette skittered into the square right after them, shooting web to cover the whole area. Her earrings beeped signaling two minutes left as Ladybug escaped, going at speeds she didn’t know she could hit.

When they landed, she almost lost her footing, skidding to a rough stop in front of the massage parlor. “In here,'' she whispered, shoving him inside. Master Fu was in the reception room, completely shocked by the scene in front of him. Before she could explain anything, or even ask Adrien to wait, her Miraculous started going off and she had to dash out of the waiting room and into the hallway as her transformation melted away.

Master Fu followed to find her kneeling on the ground and shaking. “Is everything okay Mari, er, Ladybug?”

Marinette shook her head, cradling her Kwami close. Tikki blinked up at her warily as Marinette fished a cookie out for her. “Not even a little.” She stood and turned to the Guardian, shoulders squared. “I need to see the Miracle Box.”

Master Fu nodded, leading the way. “Are you thinking Rena Rouge or Carapace?”

“Neither.”

His brows furrowed, “Queen Bee?”

“No, It’s for Adrien.” Marinette opened the box, gaze flicking between Miraculouses.

“I do not think that is wise. Wouldn’t it be better to hide him from danger? Chat Noir should be on the scene soon-”

“You always tell me to trust my gut, and my gut is telling me this is right.” Marinette snatched the green bangle up and turned to face him. “He needs to be able to protect himself. And I need to be confident that he can, or I can’t do this.” Master Fu didn’t respond, just nodded. Marinette turned to her Kwami, smiling wryly, “Are you ready Tikki?”

“I’m all charged up!”

With a “Spot’s On!”, she was dashing back to Adrien, unable to shake the worry that Tale Spinnerette had snuck in and stole him in the few moments she’d been gone. He was where she left him, pacing anxiously, though he rushed to her as soon as she entered the room.

“I’m sure Chat Noir is already there handling things. Let’s just leave me here, I should be safe.”

Ladybug shook her head, taking his hand in hers. “Adrien, this is the Snake Miraculous, which grants the power of charm. You will use it for the greater good. Once the job is done, you will return the Miraculous to me.” She smiled at him as she closed his hands around the Miraculous. “I know I can trust you.”

Adrien looked near tears but bravely held them back. “I won’t let you down.” He brought the bangle up for inspection, and as Ladybug let go of it completely a small green Kwami with yellow eyes appeared.

The Kwami looked at Adrien and cocked his head. “I must say, was not expecting you as my holder.”

Adrien chuckled awkwardly as he slipped the bangle on his wrist. “Yeah, me too. What should I call you anyway?”

The snake shrugged, floating closer to Adrien, “My name is Sass, and my transformation phrase is ‘Fangs Out’. It will be… interesting working with you.”

“I look forward to it. Sass, Fang’s Out!” A flash of teal later and Adrien was gone, Aspik in his place.

@ladrienjune

[stanley-the-magpie]

Explaining The Archive 81 Universe and Timeline Pt. 1

Now, this is no easy feat. Archive 81 has three seasons, and a two-part interlude (Golden Age). [Edit: And now a three-parter!] Which, I'm not doing the math, is a lot of content. (And I've listened to every episode at least thrice, so I should know what I'm talking about but don't expect anything of substance.) There is a main important rule to state before we get deeper: Everything important in this universe is recorded on a tape.

I will start with the shaky timeline I created while waiting for the third season to be released, and this whole universe starts, canonically, in the '30s. This is the start of it all; the Golden Age. These events don't seem important until tying it to Season 3 (don't worry, we'll get there). We enter upon the scene of the meeting for the Quicksilver Theater, which is the acting company run by Oscar Waters. Oscar asks if the equipment is set up, while we meet the character Mark, who we should be familiar with because of the seasons before and his integration in them. We then get the names of the other two actors in the room with Oscar and Mark: Patricia and Alice.

They start to test the microphones, with some small talk between the actors and Oscar. Now, the only interesting part besides the power dynamic between all of these characters is Patricia asking Oscar why he was suddenly inclined to record a rehearsal, which does keep the main rule of the universe in check. Oscar gives a very roundabout answer to that question, still stating that it is vital to record, which you can tell is only specific to this radio play. There is a somewhat easier answer to swallow after that broad statement,

OSCAR: It will shape the broadcast, shape the experience, shape the story. When we perform this play over the airwaves, it must be perfect, and thus, the recording. 

Oscar believes that this show is crucial to theatre and that it will make him important in the eyes of the people. Patricia doesn't exactly like the way he states that because he implies that it's only about himself, which is very true. (Oscar and Michael Waters are very similar, and I could go on and on about them.) The actors then reveal that they had this rehearsal with no idea of what they were actually performing, as Oscar did not reveal anything of the sort. The scripts are in wax sealed envelopes, which, if you are in theatrics you know that is very melodramatic. It seems very unusual but no one thinks anything of it, which is quite funny. Oscar goes onto explain that the scripts were not meant to be open until the first and only rehearsal, and there is the use for a 'foley-man' which is why Mark is there. The 'foley-man' role is mainly to work with the composition of music, acting as tech and stage manager, with some final things that will come to light after the performance.

Then they are given the name of the radio play: Wingbeats. Which, in my opinion, sounds really bitchin'. All of the actors unseal their scripts and they start to read off the introduction, which is great because Marc just uses a thunder sound to make some spooky emphasis. There is some exposition that sounds really like a ritual set-up, but we are going to ignore the even number and the nicknames given to the actors. Now the nicknames are fun: Oscar is the King, Patricia is the Queen, Alice is the Dancer, and Marc is Setting. These names are actual functioning character names for the story that will become their version of Wingbeats.

The interesting thing about Wingbeats is that it is very much based on the people who perform it. They have to make the stories feel real,

OSCAR: Because in truth, all stories are real,  in truth, they have already happened.

This very much applies to why the audience is hearing this now, these actions have already occurred, and they are as true as the stories you heard in Season 1 and 2. It's really cohesive for putting that mindset into the people listening and reading the episode.

They continue, Oscar, reading the rest of the introduction, we learn that this show is very much impromptu and desperately depends on the actors and the audience to exist. Wingbeats consist of three scenes which will be completely made up of real events but also made up by the actors. Patricia isn't exactly happy about that fact. They move to the page about Scene 1, which is the King is supposed to explain to the company how he came to acquire the play, with possible accompaniment by Setting. Oscar starts to explain that he was Europe in the year before (1937), being interrupted by Patricia asking him why he was there. Oscar reveals that he was in Europe for personal discovery before any sort of war could break out. (My personal theory is this was the catalyst for Michael getting into the eldritch stuff.) He explains that he was exploring Paris alone, which doesn't help in this case because Dead Signals have proved that you don't have to be a special person to run into the esoteric arts in this universe. Oscar continues on, explaining how he stumbled into a desolate music and script shop run by these two twin sisters, which is totally not creepy.  The woman is very much non-memorable as Oscar cannot remember if they were young or old, he only remembers the eccentricities of how they spoke. Now the conversation from then on is not that important because some of it is just Oscar relaying his experience in the shop and explaining his work to the women.

They shortly after give him Wingbeats and state that is the thing he has been looking for. Little does he know it was also thing someone else had been looking for, but that's not important until later.

The next scene they talk through is the interesting one: the Dancer's childhood. Specifically: a point in her childhood which is "pivotal in her development". Alice deflects, saying her childhood would not be that interesting, and the rest of the company do not agree and they continue on. Alice describes some of the conditions in her childhood: she was an only child, and she grew up on a farm outside of Black River Falls, Wisconsin (which is a real place). (Also another note: Alice says they never had as many cows as everyone else and when you tie it to the theory that her parents were into the esoteric arts, then it makes sense. Some of those rituals require those types of sacrifices. I'm pretty sure it's true, but this is all speculation.) Oscar and Patricia ask her what would make her want to leave, as up and moving to New York would not come unwarranted. The usual getting out of small town talk happens, and lord do I know what Alice means. She was scared of being stuck, married to a farmer and anxious about if she will be able to live a life without much duress. They move onto her parents; Alice explaining that her father is a stern who likes a life of order and rules and somewhat of a helicopter parent and has somewhat that usual small town fragile masculinity.

Alice's mother is a different story, her mother was apparently very hard working as she did all the farm paperwork and most likely all the bills and taxes. She seemed very inhuman as the life looked drained from her skin, and she believed that Alice looks nothing like her.

ALICE: ..., that the only reason she knew I was her daughter was that she'd seen the birth herself.

The pivotal scene is the reaction to their cows coming down with foot and mouth, which means they had to kill the cows to stop the spread. Alice had overheard her parents talking about what they had to do, Alice comes in the room to ask. Patricia and Oscar start the scene, with some idle dialogue (which is not the most important to the story), Alice comes into the conversation. Patricia gets Alice some fake milk and they start to have a conversation about the cows and how they were sick, the conversation shifts into a conversation about the attic. Now, this throws Alice into a tizzy, and I'm pretty sure her freak out was very much out of character.

The creepy thing about the attic is that it doesn't house corpses or anything awful, Alice reveals that it is a portal to a city. The City, to be specific. This makes me sound like a crazy person, but I made this theory up by using information that comes (early if you go by release standards, later by timeline standards) up when discussing the motives for the Historical Housing Committee of New York State.  

Now the third scene is the least creepy, and it requires all four players to be in the production and Setting to make music according to the messages of an unnamed messenger. The King, Queen, and Dancer are in a decrepit palace, the throne room showing signs of wear and tear. They sit up on their folly, as apparently, an unnamed messenger comes with news of riots near the borders. There is an unnamed man who wants to start these riots. The King does not believe the message is very useful and tells the Dancer to chase him away. The Dancer does not do that, as when the Messenger speaks she sees visions. The Messenger continues, she sees visions of a ballroom of dancers dressed in yellow. She wants to join but a small voice in the back of her head tells her she shouldn't, in which the voice sounds like her mother. Alice starts to have a panic attack as she is unable to see the faces of the dancers. End scene.

If you don't like color symbolism you can skip this paragraph, because I think Marc and Dan did something really cool with this and I want to talk about it! Usually, ballrooms have endless colors because of the dresses and masks, but for some reason, in this vision, there is only yellow. I looked into what yellow usually symbolizes and it works really well with the background Alice gave in Scene 2. We are never told what shade the yellow is, but I'm assuming it will be a bright and obnoxious shade. That usually symbolizes positivity, happiness, joy, and clarity. Looking at the environment that Alice grew up in, it was never overwhelmingly positive or happy, she only had small mercies while growing up. The voice in her head sounding like her mother helps push this symbolism because her mother was very stuffy and cold. Her mother did not support frivolous things, and dances like those of a ballroom variety could be seen as very ridiculous if you do not have the money for it. Her childhood was never as bright as those shades of yellow, she never got to live her life with that shade of yellow. Now, I hate color symbolism essays as much as the next guy, but this was done effectively without having to look into everything about the story.  

It's time for Scene 4! Which, according to Oscar, should not exist! The whole scene is supposed to consist of Setting asking the actors a question they are supposed to answer by looking back on the scenes they have made earlier in the rehearsal, answering the question of where they believe Scene 4 to take place. The King answers first; a stage that is endless behind him with the audience in comfortable velvet seats, they are ready to be amazed. The audience is wrapped in yellow rags, which I choose to believe means that the audience is envious of Oscar because of his talent, or that they are happy to be in the theater. It's not as clear as the dancers. The Queen answers second; Patricia is hesitant but answers nonetheless because of the coercion from Mark.

Patricia sees a small tavern from a fishing village, it's damp and soggy with the quiet fisherman who is hiding a secret. There is something that the town must hide, while the darkness is seeping into their bones they shiver and hold on tight. The last to answer is the Dancer.  Alice's answer is short and simple: the Attic.

Thus ends the rehearsal, in which Mark states the rest of the information vital to the play. He is to write the final script in one week, and it needs to be performed in at least two weeks after it is finished. Knowing Oscar, his reaction to this information is something easily predictable because he likes to have control over everything, and is very much a narcissistic human being. He does not enjoy putting himself in someone else's hands and likes to demean the ones he believes are below him as a person. Alice starts to fight Oscar on who should write the script because she likes the idea of Mark writing it, and Oscar reveals he only hired her because of "pliability".

ALICE: Oscar, if you don't let him write the script, then you aren't really performing the play, are you? You're performing some... 

MARK: Abomination.

Patricia somewhat joins in on berating Oscar because she does see his ways and does not want to waste her time. She ends her statement quoting Oscar because he is not practicing what he preaches. Mark's next statement is one that, if you are paying attention, will fully tell you what is going on.

MARK: Oscar Waters, the play is a ritual. It is like all stories in that way. And specific instructions must be followed in order for it to have its proper impact. To touch and alter the minds of the people listening to it.

Oscar is still against the idea, but Mark convinces him by saying he is good at doing what needs to be done. Which, knowing the future of this show, makes me nervous as all hell. Now, since we have finished the first part of the Golden Age, let's move onto the second part which holds the final version of Wingbeats.

This part starts with the message of which station is being used to broadcast it, I don't think there is any implication or affiliation with the cryptic arts. Oscar starts off with a small monologue that sounds so much like some of the rituals in Season 3. Immediately we are sent to a commercial, in which we are met with Richard Thalberg, who talks about Amber Duke cigarettes. If any of you have listened to What's the Frequency? then this commercial is somewhat similar in style (albeit they are different because of their overarching story structure) to the way that show runs. It's still in the Archive 81 format and is a lot more creepy because of way Dead Signals treats it. I also have a theory about what is actually a part of Amber Duke cigarettes, but that's for when we actually discuss Season 3. (Which is a long way away...) 

We return to the play, starting in Paris, 1937. A man, Oscar, enters a shop to get out of the rain. He meets two eccentric women, one playing the piano while the other handles the counter. They start a conversation with Oscar, the sisters switching off during sentences when it becomes too tricky to play the piano and speak. Oscar starts to peruse the store, continuing the conversation with the sisters. He believes that their store is interesting, considering half the scheme is books & scripts while the other is music and musical instruments. They explain they both oversee the thing they love, in which Patricia states that they are going to end up at the same place because both music and theatre are stories. Oscar does his boast and talks about how he directs, writes, and acts.

The sisters do not know anything of Oscar when he talks about two of his shows (which are both productions of Shakespeare), and then starts to talk about how he wants to produce radio plays when he gets back to New York (it's always New York isn't it?). I'm just going to say this, a lot of this idle chat and I don't think some it is exactly relevant (unless Marc or Dan say otherwise), except for the fact it is building up the setting. 

I do want to make a note and talk about a small smidget of information that is sewn in this part of the play aka Bertolt Brecht. Now, if you are not into a lot of European theatre or theatre, in general, you will not recognize the name. I didn't know his name because I am not into a lot of European plays. When rereading the script I thought something that specific must be something important or just a small easter egg for those into post-WWII theatre. Looking into him at first I was perplexed of why they would have him directly referenced in the script considering a quick scroll through his life on Wikipedia isn't that interesting besides the fact he was in America during the Red Scare and was blacklisted from movie studios before going in front of HUAC. It didn't catch my eye much until I read down to his form of theatre: Epic Theatre.

The way Epic Theatre flows is that is doesn't want you to connect with the characters emotionally, because it would leave them being content with the ending and who they are as people. Which I personally find really relevant to the way that Nicholas is written, and somewhat how the story is told overall in the series. Archive 81 is not told as a story but told as a way to make the listener uneasy. It is explained in the Wikipedia article that Epic Theatre was made to make sure the audience did not reach an emotional catharsis that would leave them complacent and content with the fake reality displayed in front of them. The point of this kind of story-telling is to get the audience to realize they can change their own reality and to fight against social injustice, which can sort of be seen in some of Archive 81. It’s less social injustice they are fighting, but things that want to kill them for, which is a monomyth and Epic Theatre hybrid. They do not make you feel satisfied, they make you see something real. The story is not supposed to be in a line, because nothing in real life is ever that straight forward. It’s one of the things I admire that Dead Signals does. 

So, after that small tangent on that easter egg, let’s return to the main storyline. Oscar is in the twins’ Music-and-Theatre shop, talking to them. It is mostly a repeat of what was talked about in the rehearsal. The twins give Oscar the script with additional copies for his company. There is a little bit more dialogue exchanged, and then it moves onto a short commercial break. We are once back again with Amber Duke cigarettes! They are always allusive and I have a theory about what is in the cigarettes (which I can explain fully when we reach Season 3). After the break, we are once again shifted back into the story!

It starts in Black River Falls, a small farm off the side of a dirt road. Patricia and Oscar start the scene while talking about the cows, and the insurance they could claim because of the disease. It’s a basic small talk between two individuals that are under some duress because of their lifestyle is in jeopardy. Patrick (aka Oscar) in this scene starts going off about getting a “red cent” from Mutual, which when looking up the definition of red cent it takes on an interesting connotation. Red cent usually means, which means a small amount, which assumes that Patrick [Oscar] believes that their insurance will only give them a minimal amount. This disbelief in their insurance is concluded with a statement that if they see a red cent then he hopes the creatures from below come up and cause havoc. In which Martha’s [Patricia] response is interesting,

PATRICIA: You know words are gateways for those types of creature!

Which y’know, I personally find that intriguing, because they really push the importance of wording in this series. Considering a lot of the series includes rituals, phonetics is extremely important. You must be able to say the words correctly, with intent, and in the correct order. We can come back to how sometimes the wording in this play is very, very specific. (It has to do with the ending...) Now, enter young Alice, who was caught eavesdropping. She gets more “milk” and intrudes in on the conversation. She asks her “parents” why they had to kill their cows, in which Patrick [Oscar] responds,

OSCAR: We’re godsfearing people Alice, we fear gods. We fear leviathans. And rightfully so.

Now, that sounds very odd considering most farm folks believe in one god, but that’s only an assumption on my part. The odd part of the actual statement is the leviathans. To the people reading this thing without prior knowledge of any of the seasons won’t get why this is important separate information. We learn around Season 2 that in the water surrounding and underneath The City has leviathans. They are relevant because they cause fear in the many, many esoteric groups surrounding the Archive 81 universe. 

Switching back to the radio play, Alice starts to ask about the cows. I only bring this up again because her phrasing is what made me consider that her upbringing wasn’t one of the average small town girl:

ALICE: What did we sacrifice them for? Now we ain’t gonna have a farm no more.

This is the main evidence of my theory that Alice’s family were tied to the esoteric arts for some reason, or most likely just Mark messing with our perception of them. The wording of that phrase was too important for me to overlook because if they have a disease it isn’t sacrifice. They are stopping an epidemic. It only gets weirder as Martha [Patricia] tries to get Alice to go back to bed. Patrick [Oscar] says some existential shit, “...[n]one of us are, we’re just the shadows of greater things livin’ in a world of shadows”, which kind of fucks you up in a sense (9). I personally think it’s a part of the ritual that this whole set up has been. Which shouldn’t be a surprise? The rest of his short-termed monologue is very much a ritualistic diatribe. 

The conversation derails to the attic, again. Small talk ensues, in which we get more information on the attic: Alice has been in there before, it messes with her memories, and that she needs to keep it in the world. This really pushes my theory that the attic is tied to the travelers of The City, or that it is a portal like the Visser building (which we’ll cover soon). 

Also, I wanted to go on a short tangent that Dead Signals loves counting steps as a method of measurement and it continues to make me excited every time it is included. For those who are unfamiliar with one of DS’s first projects, The Deep Vault, the character Jeremy counts the steps going down the bunker. (I totally didn’t add this section because I love gushing about Jeremy Thompson and John Maher) So yeah, if Marc or Dan are reading this, The Deep Vault is perfect and neither of you can say otherwise.

Moving on, after we finish the scene in the attic, CBS goes back to another commercial break. Lo and behold, another Amber Duke cigarettes ad. To be honest, it’s one of the more fucked up ones, so yeah, fun.

After the short ad, we are transported to a royal court. It’s supposed to be lavish, beautiful craftsmanship in every piece. The problem is that everything is rotting. Dust litters every surface in a semi-thin film. Inhabitants of the hall sit and dance, being jovial in their hovel. An unnamed Messenger interrupts the King and Queen. He brings upon a message of the chaos of the outer lands: the people are in revolt, whispers appear in their ears from creatures that are faceless with hands of glass and wings made of blood and feathers. The Queen is bored, she wants to ignore the Messenger. The King wants to do nothing, as he believes there is no problem to be had. His people should be grateful for him allowing them to exist in his kingdom. 

We are told by the Messenger that the people are hungry, they starve in the streets while the royalty eats feasts. They are starting to realize that the system they live in is broken; the reality they live in is different than the stories they’ve been told. The people can no longer cope with this system. It’s harmful to their development as people. That severed connection is causing utter anarchism, beings talking about doom, violence breaks out. The countryside burns as we speak, as we listen. 

The audience learns of a thief-king, an old enemy who waits in anticipation for their downfall. The King and Queen find it preposterous for that man to want more: they had paid him off and given him land. The Messenger continues, stating:

MARK: [laughs] Men like the thief-king are never satisfied. Men like the thief-king believe they are the only truly real beings in the world and they will not stop until their tumescent psyches hold sway over every being they see before them. The thief-king does not see reason, he views himself as reason and power and justice and truth and everything and-

I personally love how powerful that statement is, and the fact that the King [Oscar] interrupts him, makes me laugh. The Messenger just described the King himself, as well as his bastard son [Michael]. They are commandeering men who believe they are above it all, that they are the only true things on this earth. The thief-king is who Oscar Waters is. The King does not enjoy the description, so he sends for Dancer to chase this “unheralded” messenger. She is unable to because she sees visions when he speaks. The ballroom returns, as it was an original visage from before. 

Dancer sees more, though. Oscar breaks character and tries to interfere, as this was not how he wanted the play to go. They continue after Mark keeps them on track. Dancer starts to explain what she sees: the Curator’s Museum, a Choir, roads, people, and leviathans. Mark explains that she sees The City, and we further learn that her parents had prepared her for this day. It is the main evidence towards my theory that her parents were fully into occult shit. 

MARK: Rituals to make other rituals. 

Alice is becoming a vessel for the contents of The City universe. Mark wants her to try and control it, contain it. She is unable to. Oscar tries to interrupt, but the radio starts to go haywire. We are met with a laughing Richard, who starts to muse about the black lung from Amber Duke, and how good they taste. We all die anyway...

We get shifted to an old-timey ad, one that made me incredibly excited to listen to. (I love Dan, okay.) The Announcer makes a small spiel about Dan, how he is the Mechanical Man, fleeing LMG. He is also fighting crime now? I don’t know. I would kill for a noir drama of Dan with his robot attachments. We are taken back to Oscar for a brief moment but what he says is something that makes no absolute sense. 

Now we shift to the most fucked part of meeting Richard Thalberg. He laughs maniacally while talking about killing his father with a cigarette to the eye. It’s really fucked, but it still works so well with the Dead Signals aesthetic. We are then taken back to Mark, and he starts to explain what this was all for: for him to help Dan. As I’ve already stated, the whole play was a ritual, which could’ve already been implied by the way it reflected the people in the play. Now, Mark would do anything to help Dan, but we learn that he no longer has free will and that is how he time traveled to do this ritual. 

There is more to this than just helping Dan, as this play was the catalyst for one of the most formidable suppliers in the occult shit, Patricia Roland. After she watches the events unfold of this ritual she decides to get lost in the esoteric world. We are not exactly met with her a lot until Season 3, but she is as popular as the Curator in the esoteric shit. It’s kind of interesting. 

It doesn’t end there, this ritual does not come out without sacrifice. Oscar and Alice are scathed, which leads them to have a disgruntled child by the name of Michael. (He’s a huge dick.) There is something to say that Mark lost more than he gained but now he is a multi-being that is powerful enough to find his--their--best friend, so maybe he just gained a shitton more? He lost his humanity, but now they can help Dan. If they can, at all. 

A quick thank you to anyone who lasted through this whole post because oh my god it got incredibly long! The next part of the timeline to be included will be the Visser building part of Season 1. I’m quite sure the Season 1, 2, and 3 bits will be the longest ones for this series. I’m sorry if any of this seemed incoherent or obnoxious, and I’m expecting that probably I speak like a hyperactive puppy so if you have any questions, send ‘em in! I plan to continue this series, but it’s going to take me a bit to go through Season 1 (and some of Season 2) for the full storyline following Melody. I am excited to see where this goes! 

[kuriquinn]

The Girl Who Waited [5/10]

Disclaimer & Other Warnings

“Hey Sakura! Whatcha got in the bag? Huh? Huh? Huh?!”

“Naruto, if you don’t get out of my face, I’m going to slug you!” she snaps, making a threatening fist at him. The orange-clad boy pre-emptively ducks, sticking out his tongue. Several feet away, she can almost hear Sasuke rolling his eyes.

“But I wanna know,” Naruto complains. “Did you bring games? You should’ve brought something fun to do. Kakashi-sensei’s taking forever.”

“No, I didn’t bring games,” she tells him. She wonders why that idea hasn’t occurred to her before now. Their instructor is always late, if he even shows up at all. A pack of cards or dice might be a good idea...

“Then what’s in there?”

“You’ll see when Kakashi-sensei gets here,” Sakura retorts.

“But why not now?”

“Because I said so! We’re waiting until—”

“I heard my name?”

There’s a puff of smoke and, suddenly, Kakashi is leaning over them, disgustingly unbothered by his tardiness, as usual.

“You’re late!” Sakura and Naruto chorus.

“Well, my horoscope said something unfortunate would happen to me if I took my usual route today, so—”

“Liar!”

“Can we get started?” Sasuke interrupts, unimpressed with Kakashi’s excuses.

“In a minute,” Naruto shoots back. “Sakura said she would open the bag, and I wanna see what’s in it!”

“If you keep annoying me, you won’t,” she grumbles, but she’s already undoing the ties and unfolding the cloth.

Two red-wrapped packages shine in the sunlight, and she passes them to Kakashi and Naruto. Not waiting to see their reactions, she reaches back into the bag and draws out a plain carton of tomatoes for Sasuke. She has, after all, learned her lesson.

Sasuke leans away from the tomatoes, as if he’s expecting them to attack, but at her expectant look, he relents and reaches for them.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” she declares, beaming at them all and relishing in their varied expressions.

Kakashi looks as if he doesn’t know what to say—she supposes it’s been a long time since he got chocolate from anyone—while Naruto appears frozen. It occurs to her too late that today might be the first year anyone has given him anything on purpose. This suspicion is confirmed when he looks up at her, his eyes glassy.

“Sakura...”

“It’s not a big deal,” she hurries to say. “Ino gave all the guys on her squad gifts, so I figured I would do the same. I won’t let her out-do me.”

That’s not entirely true. Things have been so tense since their team formed. Sasuke’s is always cold and sulky, while Naruto has been more reckless than usual, hell-bent on surpassing rival. Which isn’t easy since the only missions they get assigned amount to babysitting or yard work.

Or worse, rescuing cats.

She hopes this tiny gesture will make the temperamental men in her life feel a little better.

“Hah! Sakura must hate you, Sasuke. She gave you vegetables!”

“Or she wants me to live longer than you.”

She winces. Or not.

“This is very thoughtful of you, Sakura,” Kakashi tells her, tone softer than normal. Even though she can’t see his face beneath that damned mask, she thinks he might be smiling at her. “I hope you receive some equally thoughtful gifts on White Day.”

In her imagination, he’s looking at Sasuke, who scoffs lightly and says, “If we’re not going on a mission today, I’m going home.”

This predictably leads into Naruto calling Sasuke names, Sakura trying to keep the peace, and Kakashi finally letting them know about whatever lame mission they’ve been assigned.

The fleeting moment of peace is broken, to be forgotten over the course of their day. Still, Sasuke brings the tomatoes home with him, and Sakura counts that as a victory—one of a meagre few.

Despite keeping her worries to herself, Sakura’s performance on the team remains lacklustre. Sasuke snaps at her for making mistakes, Naruto won’t stop making annoying requests for dates, and Kakashi doesn’t even seem to notice her while he deals with the rivalry between the two boys. If being ignored while performing useless chores is what a ninja is all about, she wonders if maybe she’s not meant to be there.

Perhaps that’s why she’s so surprised that one day in mid-March, Kakashi arrives at their usual meeting place with a box of white marshmallow animals and a casual “Happy White Day” greeting.

“Someone gave me these, but I don’t like chewy sweets,” he tells her with a shrug. “So here.”

She would brush it off as coincidence if Naruto didn’t hand her a package as well. It’s clumsily wrapped with magazine covers and he sheepishly admits, “I forgot what day it was until yesterday.”

Upon opening the package, she finds a much too large, much too frilly white lingerie set.

Kakashi chokes back either a laugh or a groan of dismay, and Sakura proceeds to beat her teammate into a human-shaped bruise for the inappropriateness of his gift. Still, inwardly she is grinning, because she has never received gifts on White Day from anyone.

Sasuke offers her nothing; this isn’t a surprise. Another girl might be upset that he’s the only one who doesn’t bother with a gift, but she’s used to this. Sasuke isn’t the type of person to give gifts to anyone, and after all these years, she finally understands that. But when Sakura glances up, his right eye is twitching as he stairs at the frilly material and she thinks, if she didn’t punch Naruto first, Sasuke might have. The idea makes her feel a little giddy because it suggests he cares about her honour.

A bit.

Ish.

Who cares? I’ll take it!

That any of them agreed to make such a silly day as White Day special for her has her beaming the whole morning. Training is even pleasant and her teammates don’t bicker with each other. Everything is going well, even though the only mission Lady Tsunade has for them is scrubbing graffiti off the back of the movie theatre. This goes by fast because Naruto is an expert at cleaning spray paint off walls.

The three of them are just heading to Hokage Tower to check in when they meet Konohamaru, tripping over his long scarf, knees scuffed and nose runny. It’s not an entirely uncommon sight, since he’s always following Naruto around after training, but the large bouquet he holds out to Sakura is somewhat of a surprise.

“It’s for you, Big Sis,” he declares with a grin, holding out a bouquet of white freesias and primroses. “Happy White Day!”

Sakura feels a muscle in her temple twitch as she decodes the meaning of the flowers—desperate, childish and immature—instantly knowing it was Ino that put the bouquet together for him. But Konohamaru looks so proud of himself, that she takes the flowers with a smile. Besides, no one has ever bought her flowers before.

“These are beautiful,” she tells him, and it’s not a lie because aside from their meaning, the blossoms themselves are pretty.

“I saw my uncle give some to his girlfriend today, and she was really happy about it. And I figured Big Bro would forget to give you any even though you’re his girl, so really, they’re from him.”

This time Sakura smile is strained, and she says, “Let’s just stick to them being from you, okay?”

Konohamaru chuckles nervously, and Naruto makes an insulted noise.

“Are you saying you wouldn’t take flowers from me?” he demands, and then turns to Sasuke. “Some people are so picky.”

Sasuke crosses his arms. “Who cares? They’re just going to die.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sakura asks before she can stop herself, clutching the flowers.

Sasuke shrugs and continues walking. “You’re impressed by useless things. If people intend to observe ridiculous holidays, the least they could do is give you something useful.”

“Hey, it’s not ridiculous!” Naruto protests. “At least we got her something, asshole.”

“Whatever.”

“It’s okay, guys,” Sakura mumbles, trying to diffuse the situation.

“No way, he’s being a spoilsport!” Konohamaru cries, and glares at Sasuke’s back. He holds out his balled up fists and yells, “Come back and say that to my face! I’ll fight you!”

“No, no! Don’t do that,” Sakura says quickly, imagining Sasuke setting the younger boy on fire. She doesn’t want him to be arrested for treason or something. “It would spoil the day. And really, I like the flowers. I’ll put them in water the minute I get home, okay?”

Although Konohamaru is placated, when she looks up, Sasuke is already down the street with Naruto glowering at his retreating back.

“He seriously needs to unpucker,” Naruto grumbles.

Sakura sighs and mourns yet another day ruined by whatever’s going on with Sasuke.

When she gets home, her mother admires the bouquet. She suggests inviting whoever gave them to her over to dinner, and Sakura is properly mortified as she explains it was just some little kid, and her father makes jokes about having to beat away the boys with a stick. Sakura grumbles at them both and heads upstairs to fall face-first onto her bed.

For several long, blissful moments, she exists in perfect peace, nothing but the light breeze teasing at her hair. She is exhausted, utterly drained, and if she’s being honest, a little hurt, too. It’s sometimes hard to care about someone unwilling to open up. Not that she blames Sasuke. Having your entire family murdered isn’t really an easy thing to discuss with just anyone.

But…

She still wishes Sasuke would let her in. One day he will, she knows, but in the meantime, pretending that his constant rebuffs and caustic remarks don’t bother her is becoming a chore.

A shiver creeps up her spine and Sakura frowns. Her room is draughty from the open window, a fact that’s confusing—she never leaves her windows open when she leaves the house. With a muffled groan, she pushes herself up and crosses the room to close it, only to pause at the sight of something sitting on the window sill. A plain, flat, white box—not very large, and she sees no ink or seals on it to suggest it might be dangerous.

But there’s no note attached to explain its presence.

Half-suspicious, half-curious, she lifts the thin lid on the box. Her breath catches in her throat.

A pair of black gloves are nestled neatly inside the container. They are thick, of high-quality leather, and clearly well-made. Upon trying one on, she discovers that they are bigger than her hand—obviously made for a woman. She’ll grow into them, one day.

She can’t figure out who left these for her or why. They’ll be useful, though, to protect her hands from any stray blades or even during sparring sessions.

As she pulls the glove off, an oddly familiar scent blows toward her on the breeze—cedar, incense, and tatami. It takes a second to place the scent, and when she does, her cheeks flush with warmth.

“Next time,” she promises herself out loud, holding the gloves close to her heart. Her birthday is in two weeks, and if she plays her cards right, she can talk him into going on a date with her.

Only I’ll call it training instead of a date because I think that word makes him nervous. But if we happen to stop by somewhere to eat on the way home, that wouldn’t be horrible, would it?

And what if it’s the beginning of a regular thing? What if they start dating, and then by next Valentine’s Day, they even spend it together?

She squeals and jumps on her bed, kicking her feet in excitement.

Sakura spends the rest of the night planning it all out in her head. She never dreams of the possibility that they will be stuck in the Land of Waves and more concerned with survival than her birthday.

And it never occurs to her that by Valentines Day next year, Sasuke will not be anywhere near Konoha.

つづく

Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome, but if you feel like keeping me caffeinated out of the goodness of your heart, it certainly would be appreciated! I’m also starting to post original works to my patreon.

I’m only able to keep writing as I do thanks to the support of readers like you, so every bit helps!

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