#isola drabble

[cerebralbleu]

Lately, he has been learning about corpse flowers, how they emit the same chemical as decaying bodies, certain root vegetables, stinking things that belong in the ground. The dead are meant to be buried, as to not attract the watering mouths of vultures. Yet human kind flocks around this rare bloom, taking in the sight, stench and all. They eat onions too, ravenously. Strange, how man buries rotting things, only to exhume them when their stomach is in need.

Lately, he has been thinking of his parents. Mother, father. Maybe their chests swelled beneath the binary suns of their boiling planet before there was flesh bursting like flower petals. Did the worms stare in awe at their dead bodies, the way botany students did when observing the corpse flower?

Legato never knew either of them. In turn, he never knew his birthday, unsure of his precise age. He'd always been estimated, made of pieces, nothing whole. A leftover hand-me-down, not fitting snuggly in the hands of owners, but instead forcefully tugged and adjusted until he became what they needed. Human enough when need be, beast enough when necessary. Morbid creature born in the stables. There were no wise men looming over a manger when he came into this world.

A day to celebrate mothers comes and goes. Soon the fathers will have their 24 hours of recognition. Cakes and candles happen for everybody, every day, every hour. But not for Legato Bluesummers. It's Sunday, then Sunday again, then Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, so forth.

Ground beef is shoved into his mouth, delivered by spoon, drenched in spices, a bit of runny egg yolk dripping from the meat. Food is not produced through Plants and miracles in this city. Cows, chickens and pigs can be bred and thrive long enough until they are brought to the slaughterhouse. But life feeds on life, as it always does.

And as he lazily looks from his bowl of bibimbap, to the mostly empty road outside of the sleepy restaurant, Legato wonders if calves in the pasture are seeking out their now factory packaged, consumable mother.

He, too, cannot resist being a carrion bird.

[sunsage]

He's in the kitchen, as he often is, making lunch for himself when the eclipse starts. It's hardly an unusual occurrence in this city (he's used to them too, despite sleeping through most). There shouldn't be a feeling of dread settling over him as the sky darkens or the oh so familiar pang of loss when it clears.

There shouldn't be. And yet.

He finishes lunch first. Eats, despite how heavily food settles at the bottom of his stomach. Then stares at the locked screen of his phone, finger hovering over it for a while. (His lockscreen is still a group photo from the New Years, with all of them waving awkwardy into the camera. It's kind of bad, objectively, but he likes it).

There's no point in dragging this out. And yet.

His list of favourite contacts is two names short. The chats he had both with Macaque and with Gabriel are gone as well. It feels almost cruel, that the Stars would take both of them at once, but he doubts it was personal. It's just bad luck. His luck. Just like that, grief settles over him in a heavy, suffocating blanket; though he is familiar with its weight by now. He knew it was coming, that it was only a matter of time before one of them (both of them) was sent back. They even talked about it, briefly, in hushed voices as if talking too loud might jinx them. And yet, Wukong still hoped it wouldn't be today. Hoped that somehow, this possibility will always stay somewhere in the far away tomorrow. Stupid of him.

(At least Macaque would still be waiting for him at home, but would he remember being here with him? Would he remember their late night texts, or how he held Wukong in his arms as he was slowly dying?

Would it be better if he didn't?)

Sun is still high in the sky when he pushes away from the table and heads out. There are things he left in both of their apartments that he'd rather check for before new residents show up.

(He knows what it sounds like, but he's not trying too check if they are still there. He knows better. He should know better.)

Fibonacci residential district is about as lively as it usually is, which is to say not at all. Wukong pulls the hoodie tighter over his head - doesn't want to be recognised or talked to right now - and heads to what used to be Macaque's house. Nezha's not home, which is probably for the best. The room, as expected, is empty. None of the clothes that Macaque "borrowed" from him are there either.

(Later he will find them in the back of his own closet, still smelling like Macaque, and find no relief in it.)

There is a dusty paper monkey in a corner of one shelf, the only off thing in an otherwise spotless room. Reluctantly, Wukong picks it up and puts it in his pocket.

Moving on.

Gabriel's house is farther out than most. Wukong is pretty sure the ones that are past it are currently vacant, and Gabriel himself didn't have any roommates, other than-

-He hears her before he sees her, the desperate meows as she claws at the front door. There is a box of all her things and a pet carrier with an open door sitting on the porch next to her but Curry ignores them, trying instead to get inside a house that used to be hers. Wukong swears and hops the fence, startling her into a hiss and an arched back.

"It's okay, Curry, it's just me." Her fur settles (she still doesn't like him much but she knows, at least, that he's not a threat) and she turns back to the door, looking between it and him again expectantly. Wukong inhales, ignores the ache in his chest. "He's not here. Come on, you can stay at my place until we find you a good home."

He crouches, opening his arms for her. The cat stares at him for a moment and turns away, pawing at the door and meowing insistently. He tries again. "You can't stay here, he's- he's gone."

His voice breaks at the last word. Wukong takes a deep breath- tries to, though it stutters on the way in. Not now. Not here. He just... he needs to take her with him and go.

Curry wails, high-pitched and desperate, and presses her face against the door as if that might make it open.

He gets it, really. She's young, unused to loss, and she lived here for the most of her life. She doesn't understand yet that her home was the person that lived here, not the house.

She doesn't understand yet that sometimes people just leave, and don't come back.

"Alright, if I open the door for you and you make sure there's nobody in there, will you go with me?" She looks at him and meows again. Fair enough. That's probably the only response he's going to get.

Wukong doesn't have the key but that hardly matters. With one strong push and quick pull, the lock breaks and the door opens. Curry runs in immediately, bounding up the stairs to what used to be her room.

(It's not, anymore. And it never will be again).

Wukong lingers on the first floor for a moment. The place is spotless. And empty, in a way that houses that have people living in them aren't. The little tells that someone uses the space (dishes sitting in the drying rack days after being used, a single winter coat hanging near the entrance, little paper figurines he left around the house) are all gone.

Wukong swallows past the lump in his throat and follows the cat.

The room is clean as well, almost sterile. Gabriel was never one for making messes or having too many personal items, but compared to how it looked before it feels almost barren now. Curry stands in the middle of the room and sniffs the air, looking lost. (It doesn't smell like him either). She turns back to Wukong and meows a question that he has no answer to.

"I'm sorry." He says, and adds, "It's not your fault. He didn't want to leave you."

She looks around the room and cries again, nothing like her loud meows before, just quiet and sorrowful in a way that almost breaks Wukong's heart (if he could, he'd cry out too). She doesn't resist when he picks her up now, tucking her face into the bend of his arm. He wonders if she can smell Gabriel on him.

"I'm sorry." He's not sure what else to say. How do you comfort someone who just lost the most important person in their life? (He wouldn't know.) "I should have some of his stuff back at my house. You can have it while you're there."

He can't keep her: doesn't know how to take care of her, doesn't think she'd like his house. But he won't leave her here alone either. Finding her a better home is the least he can do.

It's the only thing he can do.

He shuts the door behind him for the last time, hand lingering on the doorknob for a moment too long. He will never come back here again. There is nothing here to come back to.

He hopes, despite how little he knows about Gabriel's world, despite all the things he does know being so profoundly sad, that his the angel is happy where he is now.

He hopes, though he will never know.

He doesn't turn around for a last look as he shrinks all of Curry's things and tucks them safely into his pocket. It's just an empty house, after all. Still, he lingers, unsure if he should say something.

(He doesn't want to. He wants to go home and sleep for a very long time.)

Words stick to his throat, unwilling to be said when there is noone here to hear them other than a cat that doesn't understand. Wukong turns his head, looks up at the sky. The day is sunny and way too warm.

Sun Wukong holds the cat with no owner a little tighter to his chest, and flies back home.

[existentialismee]

We're excited to announce that construction of your new home is complete! All of your items have automatically been moved into it. Enjoy your new home! -- The Cotes Department of Housing

Stepping into the shop felt strange now, even though Watanuki had done so many times in his days spent on the island. It was merely a replacement for the one he'd left behind, a place he swore not to get attached to; her shop was his priority after all, and even if this was his.. it still felt like he was an imposter whenever he spent time there. As if he was pretending that it was alright for him to exist in that space at all.

And now.. Watanuki was to live there. Of course, it had been by his own choice; his belongings delivered swiftly with no issue, filling up the bedrooms he'd requested to be built. Living with strangers, no matter how kind they were, just no longer felt like something he could do anymore; too used to the empty space beside him being filled by the people he loved.

He wouldn't find that here, of course. The shop was completely void of anything, save for himself and Mugetsu. There was no Mokona, no Maru and Moro.. no friends who spent more time than they needed to with him.

It was only he, the shopkeeper, and on occasion his customers. Surely, he would be kept busy by them-- but the silence that met him as he walked in then was so deafening, it made him stop in his tracks all at once.

"..."

He wondered if he would get used to that sound. If he had made the right decision. It was never truly so stifling back in his own world-- there was always a voice, a warm and loving presence, just within his reach. But Watanuki would find no such thing here.

It was only him, alone, trapped between the four walls he thought he'd left behind. Closing in on him, coaxing him in further, and further.

Perhaps a glimpse of what was to come in his future.. as his immortality snaked around him, closing him off from the ever-changing world outside his doors.

[misterallfiction]

『Oh.』

“『Hello there.』”

“『Funny running into each other like this, huh? Life really does work in mysterious ways! One day you could be on your way home from doing groceries, when suddenly a rogue ninja stabs you in the chest with their ghost sword and you become the pirate king of a planet of space warriors. But I digress. You might be wondering where it is I've been all this time. And to that, I say.. I was gone? I genuinely had no idea!』

"No, seriously. I was about to fight some muscular fanged lady for personal reasons. And the next thing I know, I wake up in a trash can. And now everything is different than it was a second ago. I don't even recognize half of the people here. As if I wasn't miserable enough to begin with."

“『But let's set aside the deterioration of my already flimsy grip on reality. We find ourselves now on the dawn of a new day! A day where I've had to sit down and reflect. On my past actions, specifically. I've hurt quite a number of people. Caused no small amount of chaos. Burned down a hospital or two.』

“『There is no denying the fact that what I did was completely, utterly and unreservedly wrong. And that regardless of my motivations, they caused an unwarranted amount of duress to not only my fellow islanders, but to the benevolent souls that work every day to ensure that this place is able to run smoothly and provide a means of comfort for us all. It is for that reason that I say to them. To every single person I have ever inconvenienced..』

“『That I apologize for nothing because I did absolutely nothing wrong! Not that apologizing to anyone here would even mean anything! The way we see things is so fundamentally different that we're not even on the same planet. Metaphorically speaking. But I have come to the realization that I can't keep going the way I have. So I've changed things about myself. What things? It doesn't matter! But they've definitely changed! And now the new me is going to go out in the world and find meaning in the meaninglessness of this all!』

“『Phew! That should be good enough. Thanks for being my practice audience, conspicuously generic plush toy that was not at all swapped out for something else!I 've gotta get outta here before whoever actually owns this room shows up. And then I'll actually give this speech to everyone! It'll be so cool and they'll all marvel at how great I am. And then I'll set something on fire.. No, on second thought, probably not. I've outgrown that. Look out Spirale! Kumagawa's here!』

[codexvmbra]

It worked. Their rickety, slapped-together, pitiful excuse of a portal did what nothing else could and took him mind body and soul out of the Constant.

Scrambling back from the edge of the cavernous pit next to which he’s landed, Maxwell casts hasty glances around. He could hug Mr. Higgsbury, kiss him even! They’re free! They’re free!

But Wilson is nowhere to be seen.

Had the portal broken behind Maxwell? He feels a surge of regret so strong it surprises him, but he shoves it down and pushes himself to his feet. If he had to choose between freedom for himself or his pawn, he’d choose himself, of course. He’s paid his dues to that wretched place and those wretched shadows, and he’s never, ever going back.

…which means that he shall have to reacquaint himself with civilized society.

He knows as soon as he steps through the portal that he’s not in his original dimension. That’s frightening, yes, but nothing he can’t handle; it seems he’s not the first person to arrive here from a different world, and although some of the technology is completely new to him (what is this item he’s been given? It certainly doesn’t look like a phone!), he’s creative, resilient, and determined to make his new home better than his last.

Armed with nothing but a book (has the Codex rejected him now that he’s escaped Their grasp?), he warily accepts the offer to be transported to his new lodgings and readies himself for the next chapter of his life. Checkmate, hands shaken, the game is put away for good.

[twohundredpower]

"You sure you're up for this, Noishe? The sleigh's gettin' kinda heavy already.."

[ Of course, Lloyd! I cannot wait to see the look on all of our friend's faces..! Perhaps if we do this tonight, Santa Claus might really ask me to be one of his 'reindeer' one day..!! ]

Lloyd laughed at his friend's eagerness, ruffling the fur between its ears. "Heheh! Maybe, but don't go abandoning me for some other guy in red!"

[ Of course I won't, Lloyd!! I will only be helping for Christmastime, after all! ]

"I'm holdin' you to that, buddy! C'mon, let's go get some practice in!"

After polishing out the finishing touches on his newly built sleigh, Lloyd heaved in the last sack of gifts, before hopping into the front. Noishe was already hooked up with a harness, wearing a pair of fake antlers, and a bright red nose over its own. Lloyd, similarly, was dressed for the occasion; in his regular red attire still, but with a great big red hat to finish! He'd spent weeks building gifts for his friends, loved ones, and any new stranger he'd happened to meet; and he was going to dedicate the rest of his night to making sure each and every one of them got something they'd enjoy. Maybe watching one too many Christmas movies got the better of him this year.. but regardless, the brunette was very excited.

"Let's go, Noishe! Time to wish everybody a Merry Christmas!"

And with that, the pair were off, dashing through the snow!

[sunluzhen]

Xiaotian wakes up to a world drained of color. Everything feels — off. Muted. Distant. For a moment, he blinks, and it's almost as if he's in that strange place again; the stark white of an empty canvas, instead of muted greys.

That horrible, horrible place.

He can't bring himself to feel much of anything. Like he, himself, is a blank sheet of paper. Or, rather, a piece of bleached clay ready to be remolded and released into a crumbling world once again—

He drags himself out of bed, hair and fur unkempt, and stares at his reflection. White, like that place between the ordered world and the hundun that the Mother was so determined to shield it from. White is an awful color. It's the color of death.

Nevermind the fact white isn't actually a color. It's ironic, in a way. Or maybe not, the more he thinks about it. All he's been doing lately is thinking. Nothing good has ever come from it, but he can't help it.

He sighs, and turns away from the mirror. He barely catches a glimpse of his reflection frowning at him as he does so. He stares out into the empty night for a long moment. Minutes, even, before opening his window and promptly climbing out and onto the roof.

It's cold out tonight. Or maybe that's just him.

Implied suicide / themes of sacrifice.

As he looks up at the stars, he wonders; how many times has the little pebble been asked to repair the heavenly pillar? Have the past versions of himself ever hesitated or fumbled on their single task, their sole purpose for being? He thinks of the guardians, and then thinks— knows— the answer to be a resounding no.

The previous hims had no reason to live. At that point the world would be in the midst of its death throes, long after anyone was meant to live. Was there ever anyone to greet him? Did they ever try to stop the newly hatched stone monkey from marching straight into his destined end?

...does it matter?

Does anything matter, really?

Canon Point Update: Season 5.

[cladinivcry]

YOU GET ONE WISH.

"You want me to grant you a wish? An angel to a djinn?" It was rare for Klaus to ask Indigo for anything, but even rarer for him to seek them out to GRANT a wish of all else! You can only imagine why Indigo was as surprised as they looked. What was even more surprising? The man in Klaus' arms reminds them of the one famous painting Indigo has seen at the museum during their date with Marcille. It's ironic because, in that painting, the two in the art were also angels.

"Yes, please. I--I understand if you don't want to. I just thought...." Klaus looks so exhausted. The whole world weighs down on his shoulders. He probably feels so drained. "I need help. I'm sorry. I need...I need help." Klaus didn't know what to do or who else to turn to. Seeing the kid like this, damn...Indigo can't turn him away and it isn't like they wanted to either.

"I don't have to tell you the implications of what happens if you're not clear in what you want, right?"

Klaus nods. He's desperate and Indigo can tell. Indigo sighs and flips their braided hair over their shoulder, "Alright then. Follow me." This was obviously a very personal and private wish that Klaus wanted to grant. Indigo will give them the privacy and space to speak them without the concern of eavesdroppers!

"I couldn't kill him like they wanted. Even after everything he did...ALL the horrific pain he's caused...I couldn't---," Klaus begins when they are away from any prying eyes. His voice trembles and cracks. He's nearing tears. The seraph drops to his knees, holding Aurelius SO TIGHT in his arms, "I couldn't do it. So many people were hurt because of him, Indigo. My father...Dar'khol, Fiyero...Eiden. So many have been subjected to his judgment, his wrath, his fury and I couldn't even do one thing for them. Please. " The way he pleads for Aurelius' life. Indigo knows what went down at the sky-strewn isle. Knew what went down in the location before. Such was the way of being what Indigo was, really.

Indigo places their hand on Klaus' shoulder and kneels down in front of him, "I'm sure there are a couple who'd be pissed that he's alive, but....we already know that he'd just be brought back anyway. Sure, maybe it'd give them some closure to see what happened to them was happening to him, but I hope--- I think they'd also understand why you couldn't bring yourself to do it. Maybe not now or tomorrow....but as the time goes by, they'll understand. I don't think anyone could come to make that kind of decision. NOT when it comes to someone they love and cherish dearly." If Indigo had to do something like that to Marcille for whatever reason...Indigo would rather lose everything. They wouldn't be able to do it.

"So, uh," Reaching out, they lift Klaus' chin up, and with their other hand, a finger wipes away his tear, "how about you tell me your wish?" They had an idea, but they had to hear it from Klaus.

Klaus's teared eyes make it hard for him to ACTUALLY see Indigo. It's like looking at her from underwater. Indigo wipes a tear and only new ones are replaced. As he holds Aurelius' body close to him, he runs his fingers through golden locks.

"I need a place to keep him safe. I--I want him SAFE w-where he can rest for as long as needed. Unharmed. Away from people's eyes. I just WANT him safely stored away." Indog waits for Klaus when the angel places his forehead against Aurelius'.

"...."

"He won't wake up. Not until he's ready. So...everything else is already taken care of. I took care of it. I just need him safe," he repeats, "just...just a safe place for him where he can rest okay."

Klaus was loosening at the seams. He always carried such lost vibes with him, but it seemed he really didn't know where else to go. Man, Indigo can only hope that he'll find his path back.

"If this me came to visit the past me and said an angel of all beings was going to find me and ask for my power, I wouldn't have believed them."

And just like that, Indigo's granted Klaus' wish. "And done." They catch the confused teary look in Klaus' eyes when he looks up at them. Aurelius is still in his arms. "That's it?" He asks, sniffing.

"Mm. Yeah, go home, kid. Get some rest. You need that sleep. When you wake up tomorrow...Everything will be as you asked. I promise." Klaus believes them. Doesn't doubt them for even a second. He gets back to standing and shifts Aurelius so he's not slipping.

"Thank you," he says and before he can fly off, Indigo's wiping away the angel's tears once more. "Get some rest, kid. Don't stay up waiting for something to happen. Go to sleep." The Seraph nods and takes off.

Indigo doesn't move until Klaus is out of sight. Probably would have stayed there longer if Marcille hadn't called them in for dinner.

"Coming!"

[decuervos]

To be a Crow, Lucanis thinks, is a very odd thing. Especially one in his position. Many of those among his ranks are not born into this, after all. They are recruited, sometimes bought, pulled into this world like a shade hooked into a mage-killer's gut. Captives who long for a time before daggers and poisons, contracts and targets.

There is no before for a Dellamorte. No childhood memories to return to at your darkest hours. The memory of a mother's embrace is cold, if it ever existed at all. Caterina was not a mother, nor did she try to be one. She was a guardian. A teacher. A shield. A woman who watched this world take her children.

Who knew that they would take her grandchildren, too, if she let it. Who burned the rules of the world into his mind, who left the marks on his back to prove it. Lucanis knows this was not an act of love, but survival, so he cannot blame her alone for the life that he lived. She is a victim, too, of a larger illness that plagues Antiva. One that Crows seem to be very skilled at spreading.

Perhaps that is the conflict of such a life. To be a Crow is to live life by the contract. Notions of good and evil are absolute; the target is the enemy, plain and simple. For many, even outside the Crows, this is how life is. The villain, the monster, the boogeyman. The Dread Wolf.

But reality is not so simple. Because in any story, any novel that Lucanis read, Caterina would be nothing less than a villain. He would be, too. There are many stories where he is the killer, many cautionary tales where he is what lurks in the dark. But he knows Caterina is not the evil-stepmother; she is a woman who has been grieving longer than she has been living.

So that begs the question. Is he not the killer? The monster? The beast? He cannot recall a time when he was anything else. His presence is an omen of death, his face that of the Demon of Vyrantium. Nobody knows of his grief. To Caterina, he is a continuation of her legacy. To Illario, an obstacle to be overcome. To Viago, an ally. To Teia, a friend. But who is Lucanis to himself?

A weapon, he thinks. A blade to be deployed. He doesn't have the skills for anything else, does he? He can cook and clean, he supposes. But better than the average homebody? He is not charming like Illario, does not have the command that Caterina or Teia do. He was not given the words to speak for himself, not given the skills to be anything else. He is not a leader like Rook, by no means a First Talon.

Perhaps the life of a Crow is one of contradictions. Raised in wealth that was not his. A pantry full of food while his belly ached from hunger. Killing for a cause he was not given the tools to ever fully know. He fights for Treviso, knows nothing but Treviso. But he is not in Treviso now, is he? What is he, here, but a knick-knack, collecting dust on a shelf?

The story is over. The monster is gone. There is no villain, and the heroes have new adventures to pursue. So what becomes of Lucanis Dellamorte?

He’s never been fond of epilogues in his novels. But it seems he finds himself in the midst of one.

[paaperboats]

This wasn't supposed to happen.

The time they were given here, the chance to be together again-- neither one of them wanted to admit that it could end, that what they dreamed of truly was just that. A dream. Not the reality they long sought for, that they fought tooth and nail for every waking moment they spent in Cloudbank.

Hadn't they suffered enough? Wasn't it time for them to be given back all that was taken from them? Here, or at home-- it didn't matter. It didn't matter as long as it was theirs. As long as it was them, together.

But their bright world had plunged into darkness without so much as a warning; the lights of the Empty Set going dark, as the scarlet curtains warped and withered away. Red clutched at Boxer's chest as his arms curled around her, shielding her from the chaos that threatened to pull them apart again. It felt like the world was ending, but all Red could hear was the sound of her heart pounding loudly in her ears; her grip on her lover's jacket growing stronger by the minute.

"We have to go," he urged, although where, he didn't know. "Something's wrong, Red. I'm.. I'm not.."

.. but suddenly, Boxer's knees began to buckle; losing strength all at once. His arms fell to his sides, sliding past Red as she gasped; reaching for him as she travelled with him to the ground.

"Why am I.. like this? I'm not--" it felt like it took every ounce of strength he had, but the man raised his bandaged palms; looking down at them as his body began to tremble. "I'm not supposed to be here, like this. In this body, I'm--"

"I'm dead. I.. died.. why aren't I in the country.. why can't I see the sky..?"

The words all but broke Red's heart, tears immediately erupting from her eyes as she grasped as his shoulders, doing everything in her power to ground him.

"Auden, please-- it's okay. You're okay, I'm here, I'm right here..!" but the look in his eyes grew dark, almost lifeless; and the heartbeat in her ears immediately silenced. His body slumped against her shoulder, as his fingers weakly circled around hers.

[ Red. ] And when he spoke again, his voice sounded different. Hollow. Slower. As if he was speaking from inside the Transistor again. [ Red.. don't.. don't let me.. go.. ]

Without a word, she pulled Boxer closer to her; squeezing her eyes shut as more tears cascaded down her cheeks. She couldn't lose him again. She couldn't watch him die again..

She refused.

As the comforting scenery of the place they built together disappeared, a field of wheat erupted below them; dancing in the wind as it pushed the hair out of her face. The sky remained dark; orange and red hues obscuring the sky, as hundreds of blades similar to the Transistor burst from the ground. They stood in various sizes; some disappearing beyond the clouds, while others remained closer to the ground, sticking out in all angles.

But neither Red, nor Boxer, seemed to care.

Not even when the world threatened to swallow them whole.

[kleinstar]

He was told, warned ahead in time and yet when he looks outside, it chills his spine.

Eiden doesn't know how to sit down. He's tried but it takes no longer than half an hour, a full one at best, before he's out of focus, shifting his feet around.

His stomach is in the knots, he's been nibbling on to one of the pastries resulting from Klaus' visit but a full meal is hard to handle.

He wonders if Dam-bi ate before this. Did she have breakfast before calling on all those creatures he's seeing out there? Or had routines? How does any of that work anyway... Eiden can't fathom it - guess that's how much weight Sukuna holds to her. Enough for her endanger so many.

Is everyone alright? Is she alright? Even despite this her been doing Eiden can't stop thinking about it. He's been racking his brain over the conversation they had back then, wondering if he could have said something differently.... Maybe this wouldn't be happening now.

That might not be true but he keeps thinking about it. Going through desperate scenarios things wouldn't go like this.

He wants to help. Her. His friends, everyone close to him. Anyone. Grabs his coat and run outside but what would that even do? Some ugly oversized baby monster would grab his and tear his head off.

He knows he can't. That's what frustrates him the most right now. He crosses his arms over the table and sinks his cheek in staring at the slip of the sky he sees from the window.

Just.... be alright everyone.

[existentialismee]

The wind on his face is nostalgic, strange, and soul-crushing all at once.

It takes time for the memories to come back. One by one, instead of in a rush like when he was here last; as if time had stretched on further than before. In his home world, perhaps it had only been a single night, maybe several; whereas here.. had it been months? Years?

He supposed there was no way to truly know, not even as Watanuki's past here finally seemed to catch up with him. Times spent reunited with loved ones who traversed other worlds flashed in his mind; with ones who appearances matched one another perfectly.. and with one, who above all else, was the center of his very heart.

However, the shopkeeper did not even need to search this time to know that none of them were here. No, this strange world could only be so kind, couldn't it; taking anyone it deemed fit to, throwing them back into the fray with no regard. It had happened before, though; and Watanuki knew, that despite his returned memories threatening to break his heart, he would have to accept that. To live on despite that, to exist, even in his sorrow.

Yet the chill on his face was so biting. It should have been freeing to someone who had been trapped within the walls of one space for ten long years, but instead it was empty. Suffocating.

".. I'm alone this time.. it seems."

The words fell from his mouth in a hollow, empty admittance; though as soon as they had, a familiar face snaked itself out of the cuff of his kimono. His companion, Mugetsu, whined at him sadly; brushing his soft face against Watanuki's cheek, as the shopkeeper met him with a single stroke of his fingers.

"No.. of course you're here with me, Mugetsu. But it is only us."

...

".. please wait for my return again.. Yuuko-san."

[sixthear]

It's raining in the Fibonacci district. It hasn't stopped all day.

The young monkey hasn't moved much from his perch on the balcony. Disguised as an innocuous little bird. Listening intently, still, for the owner of a heartbeat he knows isn't there anymore.

He didn't get to say goodbye. Liu'er hates goodbyes, but hates not even being able to exchange final words to someone he knows he'll never see again. (Didn't get to say goodbye to Grandpa, and now--)

People come and go from this place. He's been told this. Nothing is permanent in this strange dream-like world.

It doesn't make it any easier. He hopes, desperately, that this will be one of those things that'll get easier. Somethings. Sometimes.

His chest hurts. He doesn't want to cry. He's already cried so much in the past couple of weeks. The sky cries for him instead, as he sits there motionless like a statue.

Eventually, he drops the glamor, and helps himself inside like it was any other day. But there's only one familiar heartbeat in this apartment now. The absence is heavy. No sounds of the kettle on the stove. An empty room with no trace, save for Wukong's scent. He must've picked up whatever the Stars decided could be left behind.

That's fine.

Liu'er drifts back to the kitchen. Checks the fridge-- sees that bowl of smashed plums. Stares at it, for a long moment. Caught between wanting to laugh or breakdown sobbing anyways. Does neither, continuing to blankly stare at the bowl of leftover fruit.

He takes the bowl. Doesn't want it to go to waste. He'll bring it back, maybe with fresh plums inside it for Nezha.

He slinks back to his own apartment down the block, climbing in through his own window. The storm outside almost drowns out the sounds of the city at night.

The mashed plums don't really taste like anything, right now, but he eats them anyways.

[twohundredpower]

"Man.. even after all that practice, 'm not really good at carving pumpkins. This one's really ugly.."

Still, Lloyd set it up regardless on the front porch of the forge; it was supposed to be a happy looking jack-o-lantern, but it looked.. pretty scary. Maybe that was okay, considering the time of year? .. or maybe it'd end up scaring a bunch of customers away.

Despite his plight, there were two other pumpkins outside next to his; one with a haphazardly carved out spider, and one with the face of an owl. He smiled a bit at the both of them, putting his hands on his hips as he suddenly laughed.

"Luz would definitely think these suck." This time of year always reminded Lloyd of her, considering how excited she always got. Even if it wasn't a holiday he knew from home, it had become important to him during his stay here; and now.. it left a bit of a somber feeling in his heart. Thinking of both of the sister figures he had lost did, but still.. he had to keep going for their sakes, and make the forge as creepy as possible, just the way Luz and Kay would like it!

"Alright! Where'd I put those spider-webs? -- oh, wait, Zelos got those stuck in his hair last year, maybe I should forget those.."

[sunluzhen]

They remember, vaguely, the day they were born. Created. Molded from clay that was embedded with the shattered pieces of Monkey King's stone egg. A woman's face. How small they felt, cupped in her hands. The sound of something sliding against the ground -- scales. Slithering.

They had forgotten her, after the storm. She left them behind. Whether on purpose or not, they don't know. Might never know, now, in this strange place so disconnected from the reality they once knew. But they still feel this sense of urgency, in finding out. Yet, it's been put on the back burner. This place was convenient, at least, when it came to being provided with distractions.

They've been having strange dreams again. Snippets of conversations; visions of unfamiliar scenes that invoked a sense of déjà vu; a torrent of mixed emotions. Horror and dread and awe and anger and desperation. The sky falling apart. Them falling apart with it.

Maybe they should actually search for the answers to at least one of their many existential problems: who is she? They don't know how to find their answer, is the thing. Wukong certainly knew lots of people between all the realms, but... could they go to him? For something so personal?

They still haven't talked about what MK is. They don't think Wukong even knows, either, so maybe he wouldn't have any of the answers to begin with.

Macaque probably wouldn't know. Sun and Nezha were from a different universe-- providing the description of a specific god from MK's world would be pretty useless, probably. What are the odds of them also knowing a giant goddess with the body of a serpent? She wouldn't be MK's creator, even if they did know something.

It's when they're laying on their bed, staring frustratedly up at the ceiling, that they finally have an epiphany. They could go to Spirale's infamous library! It holds knowledge such a repertoire of magical knowledge after all, doesn't it? Maybe, just maybe, it'll have information from across the multiverse too. They've only been once, accompanying little Liu'er one day. It turned out the little monkey was quite the book worm. They still remember the way.

They jolt upright with renewed energy as they prepare themselves for a hike deep into the enchanted forest. It takes a couple of hours on foot, which is fine by them. They don't exactly have any other mode of transportation. They could take the bus most of the way, surely, but...

Today they felt the need to have some space, in order to keep their thoughts somewhat organized, at least on their way to the library. It gives them the time they need to focus on their memory of her. Her face, the style of her make-up; blurry. Her style of headdress, the gem at the center; green. Her flowy hanfu; green. The scales adorning her serpentine body; green.

The other animals carved out of clay. Was there anything else she made?

The library probably won't have all the answers. But maybe they could at least finally attach a name to her face. They're not looking for much more than that. They stand outside the library's grand entrance for a moment, silent, before taking a deep breath. They're not sure what they're bracing themselves for, even. Then they head inside.

They remember how the librarian intimidated Liu'er, when they visited this place together. MK understood why. But she kinda just reminded MK of Mei's relatives, which made her not quite as scary in their mind's eye. So, they walk right up to her desk, standing on their tippy-toes in order to peek above the counter properly.

"Hi, ma'am! Uhm— my name's Xiaotian. I was wondering... These books come from all sorts of different worlds, right? Could you help me find some texts from mine?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, I remember you. That shouldn't be too difficult, your world is rather... Distinct, even from the similar ones. What are you looking for?"

"Uhm— texts about the gods from my world. The celestial realm and stuff."

It was as simple as that. Pretty quickly, he was being pointed in the right direction with a list of titles to look for. He feels a bit silly, now, for taking so long to do this. But there's that small part of him still desperately clinging to the desire for some sense of normalcy again. Like-- if he confirms his creator's identity, somehow, that'll ruin any chance of the status quo.

He sighs. He's not even fooling himself anymore, really. The moment he woke up in this strange city with the glamor of a human form completely stripped away... that itself was the nail in the coffin, honestly.

"Just open the damn book already, MK." He hisses at himself, shaking his head as he grabs one of the titles off the shelf, and promptly sits down with it. There's no use in stalling. He flips it open to the first page.

He didn't even have to dig through the book. There she was, one of the oldest recorded gods-- right there.

Nüwa.

[cladinivcry]

CHOICES

It feels like a dream and yet at the same time, they know that they're awake. It's a strange feeling, in truth. Indigo takes this time to take in its surroundings. A door, a window by that door, and when they turn around, they spot another window.

You have the opportunity to go through the door and go home to your father, but you will not be able to return to the city and will forget all those places and people you love. You also have the option to return back to your bed and sleep to return to Spirale, but you will never return back to your father.

Indigo's gaze meets the bed. They know that they're asleep. Marcille will probably worry if they're not up by the time she's awake. The sound of their father's cough bounces through the window, pulling Indigo's attention from the bed toward it.

When Indigo approaches the window and sees their father sitting and surrounded by the children there telling a story, probably. Their heart string is pulled. All they want to do, really, is to open that door and run straight to their father and give them a big hug. Hell, their hand even hovers over the doorknob, contemplating. They take a step back, run their fingers through their messy long hair, and huff out a bitter laugh.

This is cruel, isn't it? They turn around, stressed and overwhelmed. It shouldn't be hard, right? They could EASILY just leave this place and be reunited with their father...

anti-ti-ti 🎶 🎶 🎶 ~~~

The song isn't loud enough to BEAT against the window, but it reaches Indigo's ears which prompts them to walk over to the other window to take a look. There, they see Marcille gardening. What time is it that she's already up? Indigo isn't sure, but seeing Marcille gardening and dancing while listening to one of her favorite songs puts a smile on Indigo's face. They really can't help but laugh.

The Stars....ARE truly cruel. Cruel to have them have to CHOOSE. The choice is all their's and yet, it isn't an easy choice to make.

When their attention goes back to the window, they see Yuri sparring with someone. They haven't had the pleasure of talking to the other person, but have seen them around Yuri a couple of times. They seem to be having a lot of fun. It's then they see Eiden. Looks like he's arguing with that angel again.

.....

How long have they been in this room? Feels a lot smaller than when they had first woken up in it. The sounds around them seem to distort and blend in together.

You have 24 hours to make a decision. Any time longer in this room will result in it sinking into the Abyss, and you will be forced back into the city through the respawn system as if you perished in that room.

Right. That's right. They only have 24 hours left. Seeing as how the room is closing in, they can only imagine that the time is ticking and the sand is almost near its end.

Maybe....they can just not choose? The respawn system will make its choice for them.

Indigo hangs their head and lowers their gaze.

Make your choice, Imani. Make your own choice and don't let anyone or anything decide for you.

Their father's voice rings clear in their ears.

You make your own choices. You've always made your own choice. You've always been our little firestone. Do what you feel is right.

It's something their father would say. He was always the one that encouraged them to think outside the box. Even though he had been upset that they were leaving their home, he was the one who pushed them.

If it weren't for him and his teachings, Indigo probably wouldn't have traveled as much as they did.

Don't worry about me. You have much more important things to worry about. And I'll be here when you return.

Indigo exhales a sigh and opens their eyes for a brief moment. The glint of gold from the promise ring pulls them from their thought. Indigo lifts their hand to their face and messes with the promise ring. If they returned back home...they'd be leaving Marcille all by herself.

Hadn't they made Marcille a promise? Indigo was a person of their word. Huffing out a sigh, Indigo wraps their hair into a large bun and ties it in place. They spare one last glance at the window leading to their father still telling his story. The children circled around him engrossed in the epic and INTENSE story being told.

"I hope I get to hear your stories again." they raise their hand to their lip and press their hand against the window glass, "Until then..."

Indigo crawls back into bed and pulls the covers over them. They rest their head against the pillow and close their eyes.

You made the right choice.

It wasn't time for them to return home anyway. There's someone who'd need Indigo far more and a promise is a promise.

I'm home with you.