#tell me how we managed to get stuck in TWO hailstorms one day after the other. with like 100 miles between. what

[existential-dad]

moonrise 🌝

[fortheloveoflizards]

What Hides in the Storm

Lol, catchy title, I know. But we ain’t here for titles, or at least I’m not. I’m here to give you my version of the official “end” to Hailstorm’s story. Y’know, Winter’s brother? The one he spent all his book looking for that the entire fandom promptly forgot along with his sister aside from the occasional art featuring Pyrite? Him. Where he at?? Where’s Icicle? Does anyone care except me??? Apparently. So here’s some word vomit probably featuring a lot of triggering things and also me attempting to match the majesty of Tui’s writing. Have at thee!

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Hailstorm felt sick in the rainforest. Not for the same reasons as the other Icewing representatives, no, although he did know why. Knowing what it was, remembering Her, was what twisted his stomach into thousands of knots until it hurt just to breathe. He kept coming back, though. He could never let anyone see it. Not his mother, not his Queen, nor any Queen of any tribe or any dragon at all, for that matter. No one except Winter could know Hailstorm’s shame. So he kept moving. Through the tangles of vines, under the trio of fallen trees forming a rough land bridge, in the direction of the moon globe tree saplings that his Queen had sent him to oversee. Hailstorm had been one of the dragons sent to the rainforest with the cuttings that Queen Glory had requested, as Queen Snowfall had agreed to continue with the plan her mother and Queen Glory had come up with rather than revisit it. Hailstorm got the distinct feeling that Queen Snowfall just wanted to forget about Icicle, let rot in her cell ‘til the end of her days. Hailstorm wished he knew how to feel about that. He wished he knew Icicle well enough to feel sad or angry or relieved about her fate. Once more, as Hailstorm swooped level with the pale white saplings, he felt only a deep mourning feeling, for the years he missed and the years he didn’t, all of them fuzzy and chipped around the edges. But he felt next to nothing for Icicle, herself. Just that he should be feeling something. Hailstorm shivered as his talons sunk about two centimetres into the muddy rainforest floor, the cloudy sky above the canopy echoing his displeasure. He’d heard many of the other Icewings complaining that the mud was unbearable, and he felt like he agreed with them. But he also felt like it wasn’t much different from the snow in the Ice Kingdom. That, too, was cold and wet and stuck to your claws and made walking uncomfortable. Were those treasonous thoughts? Maybe. He knew it was certainly not good that the next place his mind went was the dry, cool stone of the Sky Kingdom. How it held steady under and around you even as the wind clawed at your wings and threatened to drag you away. How there were always clawholds for you to catch yourself after misjudging a landing. How Hailstorm could still feel his claws scraping against the stone. Hailstorm shivered and mentally shredded those thoughts for the thousandth time. Hailstorm had a job to do. He slowly circled each plant, checking that they were clear of any disease or danger, and that they each still had direct sunlight and room to grow. Honestly’ Hailstorm wasn’t quite sure what any of these issues might look like, or how he would deal with them. It seemed that Queen Snowfall was just trying to make it seem like the Rainwings would need the Icewings’ help in order to care for the plants. Although Hailstorm felt like, if anything, it would probably end up being an Icewing who messed up the saplings. Hailstorm actually got a distinct sense of deja vu, snooping around the saplings, like he might be looking for some creature that might suddenly pop out. Regardless, he completed his rounds as quickly and carefully as he could. Flick away that creepy looking bug there, pack more dirt around here, nod a greeting to those Skywings over there. Wait. Hailstorm whirled around to face three Skywings about his age. He pointedly situated himself between them and the moon globe saplings although none of them seemed interested in the plants. They were all looking at him, with eyes he’d grown used to seeing, that now felt like they were peeling off Hailstorm’s scales. Hailstorm swallowed heavily as the largest one stepped forward. She cleared her throat, stretched her neck and raised her chin, although Hailstorm was still roughly half a head taller than her. “Commander Hailstorm. I am Commander Maroon. These are Commodore and Cyclone.” She gestured to the Skywings behind her, the former of whom nodded stiffly, while the latter cracked a small smile that that sent little shivers all along Hailstorm’s body. Thunder rumbled above their heads, like the sky realised when he did. He knew this dragon. She knew this dragon. She had loved this dragon. And Hailstorm was in danger. Just glancing into those warm amber eyes and at those pristine, tiger orange scales made Hailstorm’s heart flutter with feelings he was sure he didn’t really feel. Commander Maroon cleared her throat again and Hailstorm instinctively snapped to attention. Looking slightly surprised, Commander Maroon began what sounded like a rehearsed speech, though by the time Hailstorm’s brain got to processing it, she might as well have been speaking through a hurricane. Or a cyclone, his treacherous brain whispered to him. Hailstorm felt like he was sinking lower and lower into the mud, as if the rainforest sensed his doom and was trying to swallow him up to stop him from escaping it. Everything he had been working so hard to restore was now teetering on the edge of a great cliff. One push, one word from this dragon would send it down, down to smash against the sharp rocks below. Commander Maroon was finished, waiting expectantly for his answer. Hailstorm blinked a few times, trying to clear the wind howling in his head. Moon globes. They’d come here for moon globe cuttings. Queen Ruby wanted cuttings for her Kingdom as well. This dragon was not here to expose Hailstorm. He was here to help his tribe. Hailstorm took a breath and squared his shoulders, snapping his wings tight against his sides, hoping it would hide how they were shaking. “Queen Snowfall’s decision will take at least three days. Tell Queen Ruby that she will have her answer as fast as wings can fly.” Commander Maroon nodded, although she seemed a bit concerned. Had he answered too abruptly? Had he offended her in some way? Moons above, why was that dragon still STARING AT HIM? Hailstorm focused on breathing as Commander Maroon and Commodore walked off. Cyclone turned to follow them, but turned back to stare at Hailstorm again. Their eyes met and Hailstorm bit his tongue to keep from crying. And then Cyclone was gone. Leaving Hailstorm to sit and shiver as the sky opened above him.

Hailstorm felt sick in the Ice Kingdom. There was a malevolence about the way the tribe treated each other. A sort of “You are not worth anything if you cannot prove your worth” mindset that seemed to put every dragon in a permanently foul mood. It had stunned him when Winter first brought him back. The Ice Kingdom looked so perfect from above. Clear and bright, reflecting the magnificence of the Aurora, with immaculate homes surrounding a crystalline palace that seemed to pull the light from the sky and project it into Hailstorm’s bones and his heart, calling him home. Or so he had thought. It now appeared to have been a trick. A pretty wrapping around an ugly truth. At least in the Sky Kingdom dragons treated each other like dragons. The Skywings’ cliffside homes and hanging basket gardens were messy and rough and constantly windswept. But it was a community. When the carrot basket from your garden got carried away by the wind there was always a dragon chasing it with you. When your throat was sore from breathing too much fire, there would be several others singing twice as loud in your honour at festivals, and at least one who offered you honey tea. Here, if you lost something, you were forgetful and careless. If you tripped over your talons you were clumsy. If you ate a seal when any of the moons were full you might as well just throw yourself into the ocean. Or at least, that’s what it felt like to Hailstorm. He should have been glad when the Queen chose him to lead the team to deliver the moon globe cuttings to the Sky Kingdom. He should have been relieved to escape his mother’s gaze, her expectations. Her necklace of Skywing teeth that haunted him day and night. But all he felt was cold fear. The Sky Kingdom. The one place in all of Pyrrhia where Hailstorm knew he shouldn’t be. He couldn’t be. Hailstorm had very nearly broken down and started begging Queen Snowfall to reconsider. But he knew that would be just as dangerous. To show that kind of weakness in front of his Queen? Hailstorm would plummet down those insipid rankings faster than the fish that evaded his talons. So he’d stayed silent. He’d accepted his orders, praised the Queen’s intelligent leadership, and returned to his room to prepare. Certainly not to cry. No. Okay, maybe a few tears slipped out but they froze instantly, so they don’t count. Hailstorm managed to get his breathing under control moments before the messenger came to inform him of his team’s impending departure. Hailstorm’s wings had felt heavy as he took to the air, a little lopsided thanks to the bag of cuttings in his talons, but he powered forward, each wingbeat bringing him closer to what he was sure would be his undoing.

Hailstorm felt very sick in the Sky Kingdom. The strong winds fought him more than he had anticipated, as if they, themselves remembered who he had been, and in their rage, sought to destroy him. It was dizzying to have such clear memories of swooping along these air currents, of having wings capable of catching him if the wind won. Hailstorm managed to land without damaging the cuttings, thankfully. He was greeted by Commander Maroon and Commodore, with no sign of Cyclone. Hailstorm wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or nervous over the dragon’s absence. “Commander Hailstorm. Queen Ruby is most pleased that you’ve been able to make this trip in such short a time. The Queen is confident that this is the start of a strong friendship between our Kingdoms.” Commander Maroon paused, studying Hailstorm and his team. Her eyes softened. “On behalf of Queen Ruby of the Skywings, I invite you and your company to rest in the palace for as long as you need. You will be provided with whatever you require for your trip home.” And, before Hailstorm could protest, Commander Maroon scooped up the cuttings and disappeared into the mountain. Commodore stepped forward and gestured for Hailstorm and his group to follow him. Hailstorm had to admit, the flight had been exhausting and he wasn’t exactly looking forward to returning to the Ice Kingdom. But the idea of staying here, in the palace, sleeping no doubt dangerously close to Cyclone, Hailstorm could barely stay upright as he followed Commodore through the familiar-unfamiliar tunnels. Hailstorm could only fear what kind of nightmares he might have tonight. He couldn’t stay here. But to leave now, after such a trip and an invitation from the Skywing Queen. He knew what that would do to his ranking. He would have to stay. No longer than a day is what Hailstorm promised himself. A day. Then he would be gone, winging away from the memories and the wind and the cliffs and Cyclone. It was strange, Hailstorm found himself unable to stop thinking of that Skywing. He knew how She had felt. He could see Her memories flashing behind his eyes. Queen Scarlet ordering Her away during a festival. Wandering between stalls and dragons, squeaking apologies that weren’t necessary. Coming across a gambling stall. Agreeing to have a go at the owner’s aggressive invitation, if only to make him happy. Accidentally winning. Feeling guilty for “tricking” him and returning Her winnings. Turning away only to run into him. Instantly apologising for running into him and for being in his way and for staring at his pretty scales. His laugh hitting Her like golden sunlight on a cloudless day. Him inviting Her to join him for spiced mountain goat. Her being about to decline and inform him of Her awfulness. But a bright shard of ice in Her mind makes Her gingerly accept. He acted as though he didn’t realise how annoying She was. How clumsy and useless and generally not good She- Hailstorm coughed to hide the choking noise his throat made. Hailstorm struggled to remember the breathing exercises Winter had taught him during one of his visits. Hailstorm vaguely registered Commodore welcoming him to his guest cave. He was just starting to breathe regularly when he saw Cyclone approaching at his right. Moons, what his he going to do?  The panic on Hailstorm’s face must have been obvious, as both Commodore and Cyclone gave him significant looks, disgruntled and curious respectively. Hailstorm choked out a thanks to Commodore before ducking into his cave. He hid in there until he was sure everyone was gone, and only then did he bother to explore his temporary quarters. The cave was decently sized, not very fancy but clearly designed with it’s position in the palace in mind. Hailstorm could tell this cave had not been here during Scarlet’s reign from the distinct absence of blinding gold. Hopefully, then, he would be able to get some sleep. The quicker he rested, the quicker Hailstorm could escape this mountain of dangers. Hailstorm faintly worried about nightmares before sleep took him.

He felt sick. He couldn’t figure out why. It was so peaceful here, with Cyclone. The Skywing was nestled warmly against his scales, one large, perfect wing over his back. He forced himself to ignore it, he was just paranoid, moons he was pathetic. It was probably his fear of Queen Scarlet finding them out. She was so smart and powerful it would be easy for a dragon like her. She could have everything he had. Treasure, strength, mind, soul. Everything except Cyclone. Cyclone was his. His one perfect, unchanging thing in all of Pyrrhia. And, he supposed, Queen Scarlet couldn’t have his heart. That belonged to Cyclone. It always would. The Skywing beside him turned to smile at him, making his scales tingle. Cyclone leaned in and nuzzled against his golden-orange scales-

Hailstorm jumped awake, gasping for air he couldn’t find. He wasn’t home. He was surrounded by stone. Queen Scarlet had him. I need to get out. Hailstorm scrambled to his feet. The cave entrance was unguarded. She didn’t think he would try. Why bother. I’ll never get away. Hailstorm’s talons felt like the were mae of stone, part of the mountain, rooting him there. It was only Winter’s face in his mind that moved him. I can’t leave him alone. Mother and father would be so cruel to him for leaving Hailstorm. Queen Glacier would- Memories hit Hailstorm like an avalanche. Father. He’s dead. Queen Glacier. Dead. Scarlet. She’s dead. It had been a nightmare. Hailstorm sucked in a breath. A nightmare about Her. It’s because I’m here. I was right, I need to get away. Forget my team they can leave on their own. Forget the rankings if I stay here much longer I won’t even be Hailstorm! He could feel Her unsureness seeping into his scales, leaking from the cramped walls of the cave. Hailstorm barrelled out of the cave and down the tunnel, almost knocking over a Skywing in the process. He heard shouting behind him. They want to keep me here. They want Her back. This was their plan!  Hailstorm snapped his wings open and leapt into the air with a roar that was instantly lost in the wind. That’s right. The wind always gets worse at night. How could I forget the simplest thing, moons I’m so hopeless. This time, Hailstorm’s roar was at himself. At Her. “STOP THAT! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!” Hailstorm wanted to rip the thoughts out and strangle them. Hailstorm felt his wings tiring as he tried to fight back. He couldn’t keep this up. Down then. Hailstorm angled as best he could for the dense forest surrounding the base of the mountain. The wind let up down here, enough that Hailstorm suddenly rocketed forward, crashing into the trees. He met the ground rather painfully, and continued to slide down the slop of the valley. Hailstorm landed with a loud thud at the base and lay gasping. Of course, knowing me, I’d manage to crash down right where the valley started. This is just my level of pathetic. Hailstorm couldn’t find the strength to resist Her thoughts anymore, so he just focused on where he was. Hailstorm had definitely ended up at the bottom of the valley, in a small glade bordered by broken trees and orangey-red leaves. The wind was a far off howl at this point, though his ears were still ringing, as he thought he might hear wingbeats somewhere. Hailstorm had landed on one of his wings at some point during the slide, and now it twinged painfully, along with several other areas of his body. After a few shaky breaths, Hailstorm did his best to push himself up. The pain from everything, including his mind, was so much, Hailstorm couldn’t even swallow his whimper. Rocks and ravines, if only I weren’t so awful. “Please... Please just stop...” Hailstorm could taste blood as he begged, feeling more than he ever had like the failure he was. He sank back to the ground clutching his head, ignoring the sound of someone touching down behind him. Why bother trying to hide my screw ups? It’s my own fault might as well let everyone know so they can avoid trouble. “Shh, just... Just be quiet! Please be quiet...” Hailstorm was suddenly aware of a presence in front of him. He cracked open an eye and saw tiger orange scales and amber eyes filled with concern Cyclone. He’d found him. The fear and shame were enough to draw another whine. The Skywing in front of him sighed. “I thought you might have been a soldier. Moons, whatever happened to you must have been unthinkable. I’ve never seen and Icewing act the way you do...” Because I’m not a real Icewing. Cyclone hummed as if he’d heard Hailstorm’s thoughts. “I also take it we’ve met,” He knows. “Although I can’t say I remember you. Clearly you remember me, and for that I’m sorry. I wasn’t the kind of dragon I wish I could have been, during the war.” Me neither. Hailstorm felt him pull away, and instinctively looked up. Cyclone was sitting a few talons in front of him, wings folded back in an attempt to look non-threatening. But it was the look on his face that got to Hailstorm. The sheer amount of genuine concern and empathy in the Skywing’s eyes. It nearly brought Hailstorm to tears as he remembered that Cyclone had always been this way. Even with Her; especially with Her. Cyclone was so different from any other Skywing, it was impossible not to notice. Hailstorm’s breath caught as Cyclone spoke again. “Have I... Did I do this? To you, I mean. Was it me, during the war?” Cyclone swallowed. “Did I hurt you?”  No, my love, this is my fault! You could never hurt me! I’d... I’d die for you... As soon as that thought hit him, Hailstorm was shocked to find it was true. She had loved him, sure as the four winds blew, but the emotion Hailstorm felt fluttering his heart, steeling his bones, making him brave enough to face all of Pyrrhia, it wasn’t Hers. It was his. “Yes.” Cyclone looked somewhere between distraught and unsurprised, as if he had no trouble imagining himself hurting an Icewing. Hailstorm puffed out a breath of frustration. He hadn’t meant it like that. But Cyclone was already turning to leave, either worried Hailstorm would lash out or satisfied with solving the mystery. Hailstorm had to stop him. He needed him to stay. He needed him! “Wait!” Cyclone, to Hailstorm’s immense surprise and delight, stopped, turning his head slightly so that he could look back at the strange Icewing seeking to take up more of his time. The gold band on his right horn caught the light. Hailstorm struggled to sit up, taking a few deep breaths to calm his nerves, ignoring the aches of his body. This would be difficult to explain, but he had to. He owed this wondrous, radiant dragon that much at least. Hailstorm raised his chin at Cyclone. “Do you remember a dragon... A dragon called P-Pyrite?” Just saying Her name left a taste like acid in Hailstorm’s mouth, like all Her toxic, dangerous thoughts had been contained within that one word, now released down his throat as he swallowed. Cyclone’s expression was unreadable from this angle as he pondered Hailstorm’s question. “I do. You knew her?” Was that sadness Hailstorm heard? Was Cyclone sad to think of Her? Did he miss Her or was he just disappointed to have to talk about Her? Hailstorm pressed on. “I, uh... Yeah. I guess I kind of did.” Cyclone turned fully to him, frowning although Hailstorm could swear there was a hopeful glint in his eye. “Kind of? Did you two fight?” Cyclone inhaled. “She isn’t... Is she dead?” Hailstorm wanted to say yes. Hailstorm wanted to scream it at the top of his lungs, She’s gone and She’s never coming back! But the swirling vortex of worries and fear and unbearable self-hatred in his mind said otherwise. “No. I don’t think she could ever die. Not now.” Hailstorm couldn’t hide the shake in his voice anymore. Couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down his face as he admitted the one thing he feared most. The blurry form of Cyclone stepped toward him. “I hear her, all the time. No matter how much of an Icewing I am, she’s always... I’ll never...” Hailstorm trailed off as a storm of hiccups clogged his throat. He could feel the Skywing’s hot breath on his face, now. “I don’t understand... Did you kill her or not?” Hailstorm shook his head, mostly just trying to clear it enough that he could look at Cyclone. Warm amber and gold met arctic blue and black. Hailstorm coughed. “I am her. I’m Pyrite.”

The silence was deafening, as if even the wind above the valley had ceased in order to hear better. Cyclone stared at Hailstorm incredulously. “You... What?” Hailstorm didn’t need to say it again, Cyclone was already pacing around his side of the clearing, trying to make sense of this new information. “I don’t... You... You can’t be! She was a Skywing! And so small... Delicate... You-! You’re bigger than I am! How?!” Hailstorm breathed in deeply. Even from over here, he could smell the damp inside of caves and apples and cinnamon coming from Cyclone. Hailstorm remembered that he was a pretty big fan of almost any spice, but cinnamon was Cyclone’s favourite, often paired with the autumn fruit. “It... It was a spell. Put on me by Quee-uh... Scarlet.” Cyclone had stopped dead, now, gawking at him. But there was less disbelief and more curiosity in his eyes. He glanced around before sitting down where he was, as if expecting the bloodthirsty ex-Queen to come swooping out of the surrounding branches as soon as her name was uttered. Hailstorm knew that feeling. He’d had it dozens of times since learning of her death, like Her part of his brain refused to believe it. Cyclone reached up to scratch his neck, and Hailstorm noticed a small, talon-length scar on the left side of it that wasn’t in Her memories. “But.., She never had any magic while she was ruling. If she had an animus, or magic at all... Did she really enjoy the war that much? Enough to let her subjects die just to fill her arena?” In that moment, Hailstorm felt such immense pain for the Skywings, the heartbreak in Cyclone’s voice was so clear. The war had certainly taken much from everyone, Hailstorm included, but Queen Glacier had been working to end the war, not prolong the suffering. It wasn’t fair. The Skywings worked just as hard to please their Queen as everyone else did. What did they do to deserve a tyrant like Scarlet? Even Her thoughts quietened as if to reflect on this. “I... I can’t say. I was P... Her for so long, but all I remember is undying loyalty. Part of the spell, I guess...” He hated lying, especially to Cyclone, but Hailstorm hated thinking about Her even more. Cyclone deserved to know, but this was so hard. Hailstorm had spent so long trying to bury Her, hoping that if he just pretended for long enough, he’d start to feel like an Icewing again, fully and truly. Winter seemed to think it would work, but now that Hailstorm was here, talking with a dragon so warm and gentle, such a big part of Her, he wasn’t sure he wanted it to work. He didn’t want to pretend. He didn’t want to hide. He wanted to get better. Hailstorm lowered himself back down and silently watched his Skywing confidant. Cyclone still seemed to be debating whether to believe him, but Hailstorm decided he didn’t mind either way. He’d try to get better regardless. It was a good sign that Cyclone wasn’t yelling anymore. Hailstorm noticed more scars on his hindquarters - three in a row, most likely from an enemy’s claws. Hailstorm lifted his gaze when Cyclone cleared his throat. He shifted, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Do you, uhh… You know she and I were...” Hailstorm couldn’t help laughing. It was short and quiet, but seemed to make Cyclone more comfortable. And it felt good, too. “Yeah. I remember. Even if I didn’t, I could’ve guessed.” Cyclone scoffed. Hailstorm continued. “And it... I need you to know-” “That you don’t feel that wa-?” “I do.” Hailstorm leaned toward the Skywing with such urgency that he knew he looked pathetic. He wasn’t surprised when Cyclone’s eyes widened and he scanned the glade to make sure no one had heard this crazy Icewing’s confession. He was, however, incredibly surprised when Cyclone looked back at him, a small smile that lit up the night better than any moon or Aurora pulling at his mouth. “I’m glad.”

Hailstorm felt sick. He knew why. The air at this altitude was far too thin for Icewings. If he stayed up here for too long he might pass out. He didn’t mind. It wasn’t like Hailstorm was expected to be anywhere right now. Besides, he couldn’t resist the temptation to prove Cyclone wrong. That predictable fireball would never think to look for him up here. “Hide and Seek Champion” indeed. Hailstorm chuckled, though it made his head spin, and scanned the clouds again. No sign of any orange scales anywhere. Just calm blue with puffy clouds that scattered as he flew through them. After a while, Hailstorm found himself thinking about the past few months. That night in the valley had really set something in motion in him. He’d felt the weight of the barrier he’d built between himself and Pyrite shrink back more and more with every moment since then. It started with a proper rest, accompanied by Cyclone. Hailstorm had thought it would be weird, but, frankly, the jitters were exciting, and he’d gotten through the rest of that night - and well into the morning - nightmare free. Then Cyclone had taken him to talk directly with Queen Ruby, despite Hailstorm’s protests. It had relieved him immensely to discover how unbelievably understanding the Skywing Queen was, even going so far as to share her own story bout a princess named Tourmaline. The Queen had sent a messenger to Queen Snowfall requesting that Hailstorm be permanently stationed in the Sky Kingdom to care for the moon globe saplings. Queen Snowfall had initially been reluctant, and Hailstorm admitted he wasn’t very hopeful. But after some back and forth - and a LOT of golden promises - the Icewing Queen had agreed. Hailstorm had officially moved into the palace immediately. Queen Ruby offered him his own cave, but when Cyclone offered to share his... Well. Hailstorm laughed to himself again, thinking about how easy the choice had been. After that, to be frank, it had been excruciatingly difficult. Everything, everyone, everywhere in the Sky Kingdom dragged up memories from Pyrite. He had very nearly given up more than a few times. If it weren’t for Cyclone, Queen Ruby and Commander Maroon, he shuddered to think what he might have done. But as he’d settled in, drawn to all the places he remembered from Pyrite, he found those same memories faded away. Where at first he’d remembered shaky orange talons reaching for gambling winnings, he now only saw bluish-white ones pushing the treasure he’d lost towards the stall owner, as Cyclone cackled beside about how he thought he’d been better at this. And where Pyrite had feared falling from the edge of Wingtip Cliff, Hailstorm would simply spread his wings and leap off, finally able to trust the wind like she’d never been able to. Hailstorm was replacing Pyrite’s fear with his hope, with Cyclone’s love and Queen Ruby and Maroon’s support. He felt it now, his strength, what Winter had tried to remind him of so long ago. Hailstorm knew himself better now, because he’d let himself know Pyrite, too. He still didn’t think she’d ever truly go away, but he wasn’t as afraid of that, now. After all, she’d led him to this wild Kingdom, with it’s roaring voice and flying gardens, wreathed in the scent of cinnamon and apple and goat and life. Hailstorm sighed happily, hearing Cyclone winging up behind him. He would get better. He would grow. It wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

[coldace24]

CA/SUAL

Standing on the edge of the sidewalk, the whole crossing was laid out in front of me, filled with crowds and cars, hustling and bustling in yet another busy day. With the sun glaring at amazing intensity on the top my head, I could only breathe a heavy sigh, casually wiping off another drop of sweat with my sleeve.

As I crossed to the other side, the overwhelming heat had me decide to use a different route home than usual, somewhere with more shade, perhaps through the small-time market lined with wonderful, sun-blocking canopies overhead.

I really didn’t want to leave my apartment, especially not during noon when the heat was this bad, but alas, I had ran out of toilet paper, and running out of it during times of emergencies would be…devastating. So I went and bought a pack of rolls, just so I wouldn’t need to have to go out again in a while just to restock.

Passing by the electronics store just around the corner of the market, my eyes caught sight of the video playing on the store’s large screen display. Four girls were dancing to an upbeat music, looking fierce and rather pretty at the same time, and before I realized it, I was standing there, admiring their performance. Even as the video looped, I found myself still watching, entranced as it showed a girl with blonde hair and….cat ears I think, singing with an expression that seemed to speak to my heart.

“KDA huh…” I mumbled as their group name popped up at the end of the video before looping again. “They seem pretty cool.”

I stopped myself from getting too absorbed with the video and started to walk towards the market, humming their song that was now stuck on repeat inside my head. In a few more steps, I was under the canopies, and the familiar sight of meat shops, vegetables and spices put a smile on my face. If I was any good at cooking, this place would probably have been heaven, but sadly, all I can cook are instant noodles and fried food.

The calm breeze passing through the street, and the shades provided by the canopies allowed for a comfortable stroll, much appreciated as the heat seemed almost unbearable. To my surprise though, from the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of someone wearing a rather thick coat which seemed impossibly uncomfortable to wear on such a sunny day.

“….well, to each their own.” I mumbled to myself, but before I could look away, the person in question tripped at uneven ground, sending cabbages and leeks flying everywhere, a deadly hailstorm of gastric healthiness. In a fit of panic, the person started hurriedly collecting the vegetables scattered all around the floor.

“…..are you trying to tell me something, huh, life?” I grumbled as I went to approach the person, picking up the rest of the sprawled greenery on the way.

“Hey, are you alright?” I asked as I picked up a handful of greens.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just tripped and it’s nothing big, ahahaha…” The voice of a female surprised me, my attention shifting to the golden high-heels on her feet that were about five inches tall. Well yeah, with shoes like those, you’re bound to trip on these uneven streets.

“Uh… here you go.” I held out my hand filled with the veggies.

“Ah, thank yo-” She froze as she looked up to my face, or at least I felt like she did. I couldn’t exactly tell as her features were hidden by a black face mask that covered her nose and mouth, and round-rimmed purple sunglasses for her eyes. Is she a fugitive or something?

“Ah…감사함니다.” She continued in what seemed to be Hangul or Korean, much to my surprise and dismay. Why would she start speaking Korean now?

“Oh uh… do you need help?” I tried not to sound suspecting as I asked. She only shook her head, her black cap sliding from side to side. Only then did I notice the letters “KDA” printed boldly at its front. Fangirl…?

Although she denied my help, as soon as she stood up, the paper bags holding the vegetables ripped, leaving the greens sprawled out on the floor yet again. I swear I heard a yelp come from her as she hurriedly tried to gather them again. As amusing as it was to watch her get flustered trying to hold everything in her arms and fantastically failing, I decided to help her out instead.

“Woah there!” I quickly caught the few leeks that fell off her arms. “Um… how about I just help you, okay?”

She shook her head vigorously in protest at first, then noticed the amount of veggies still on the floor while her arms were already full. A heavy sigh escaped her breathe, nodding weakly as she passed me the ones in her arms to pick up the rest. Not long after, we were headed off to her destination, vegetables in hand, and awkward silence in the air.

“So uh…” I tried to start up a conversation. “…you’re Korean?”

“예, 저는 한국인입니다.”

I have no idea what she said, but it sounded like a yes. Gah, why is she even speaking in Korean? I’m pretty sure she spoke straight English before. This is more trouble than it should be.

“Uh…so what brings you here then?”

“Hm…우리는 영화 촬영을했습니다.” She turned to me as she spoke, although there wasn’t really much point since I couldn’t see her face. Okay, this time, I really have no idea what she just said.

��…Oh, okay. Cool.” I tried to play it calmly, hoping she wouldn’t notice my inability to comprehend what she was saying. To my surprise, she started laughing. Crap, have I been caught?

The rest of the way was me trying to figure out her answers to my questions, which, apparently, she found fairly funny as all she ever did was laugh at my pathetic attempts at understanding her. Soon, we were standing in front of the door to some apartment, on the fifth floor of some building…somewhere. Seems I focused too much in trying to understand her that I lost sight of my whereabouts on the way.

As she rung the bell, the shuffling noises and muffled chatter from inside turned into the sound of rushing footsteps that grew louder and louder. After a brief pause, the door swung open, and we were face-to-face with a woman who seemed oddly familiar; her purple hair and amber eyes gave it away, but I couldn’t seem to pinpoint who she was exactly. The way she stood in front of us, her stature, posture, and aura seemed to give off the kind of vibe you’d get from divas and celebrities. Perhaps she was one?

“What took you so long?” Her brow was raised as she asked.

“미안 늦었 어.”

“Hangul….?” The purple-haired woman looked surprised, but seemed to understand as her gaze fell upon me. “Oh… well, hello there.”

“Uh…hi.” I couldn’t make it sound any less awkward. “Here’s your uh…vegetables.”

I tried to hand her the greens, but she didn’t seem to be willing to accept them. Her eyes darted back and forth between the girl in the coat and the veggies in my arms, as if silently asking what she’s supposed to do with this. After a brief pause of awkward staring, the purple-haired woman smiled a mischievous grin.

“Well, why don’t you come in?” She stood aside and gestured for me to enter. A yelp came from the coated lady beside me as she shook her head vigorously at the woman’s words.

“Uh no, it’s okay I-”

“I insist.” Her grin grew wider. “It’s just a little hospitality and gratitude for helping my friend here with her…vegetables.”

“Uh…okay then. I’ll just drop these off inside.” I didn’t really know what else to do nor what to expect from this turn of events. She ushered me inside, the lady in the coat following right behind us who seemed to be avoiding my gaze whenever I turned to her. The place wasn’t anything fancy, kind of like those common four-person apartments with the kitchen, dining, and living rooms connected all together at the center, with only the bedrooms separated. Sitting on the sofa were two other ladies; one had dark hair tied back to a rather wild ponytail, her features suggested she was of Japanese descent, while the other had violet hair tied up to two buns on either side of her head, complimented by her slim facial features, she seemed to carry a style reminiscent of Chinese culture.

“Oh hey, you’re finally back, A-” The Japanese woman stopped mid-sentence as soon as she saw me. “Wha- who are you?”

“Uhh…nobody. I’m just here to uh, help carry the um, vegetables.” I tried to explain, motioning to the greens in my arms then pointing to the coated lady.

“Oh.” She seemed to accept that so easily, much to my delight. “Well, let me get that for you.”

She stood up and took the vegetables from me, giving me a quick thanks as she carried them off to the kitchen. The Chinese lady followed behind her, giving me a quick nod before she proceeded to help the other. Seeing as my job was done, I turned around and started to walk towards the door, only to be stopped in my tracks by the purple-haired woman.

“Leaving so soon?” She smiled, which at the sight of, somehow managed to make me feel chills. “Why don’t you join us? We’ll be having hotpot for lunch. It’ll be good~”

“Uhh, no it’s okay. I’d be imposing too much.” I tried to decline as politely as I could, but her smile was setting off a lot of danger flags all over my head. Who the heck would want to eat hotpot on this freakin’ hot day?

“Oh but it’s just our way of saying thank you for helping out our friend.” She made it sound as convincing as possible, which somehow seemed to affect my thinking, even if just for a bit. “Isn’t that right, Ahri?”

Her gaze turned towards the woman in the coat, much to her surprise as her name was called. With a heavy breath of sigh, she removed all the accessories covering up her face, revealing a familiar blonde hair and…cat ears? Oh.

Her features were stunning, the hazel color of her eyes seemingly glowing, threatening to mesmerize me if I stared any longer. Needless to say, she was very pretty, her aura exuded that sense of beauty and grace, someone who was positively poised and charming at every move. Then, I remembered her tripping… Oh.

“Evelynn…” Her eyebrows were furrowed as she called the purple-haired woman’s attention. “왜 이런 짓을하는?”

“Oh just let it be, Ahri. It’ll be fine.” She rolled her eyes in response to what seemed to be worry in Ahri’s tone. “Besides, I haven’t seen any reaction yet. Probably doesn’t know who we are anyway.”

“Uhh…..” I wanted to tell them that I did know who they were, thanks to Ahri revealing her rather memorable face, but it might’ve made my situation more…difficult. Besides, I never really knew any of them, I just know they’re part of some group called KDA and they sing and do uh…stuff.

“So, you will be staying, yes?” Evelynn’s eyes were staring at me, accompanied again by that smile that always seem to make me feel weird. Somehow, with the way she said it, tone and all, I felt compelled to accept. Well, whatever. Might as well.

“Um…yeah, okay. Sure.”

“Perfect!” She clasped her hands in what seemed to be delight in her expression. “Akali! Kai'sa! We’ll need to prepare enough for five people! Our guest will be staying for lunch~!”

The way Evelynn said ‘guest’ felt weird, like it wasn’t really what it was supposed to mean. From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Ahri planting her face deep into her palm. Imagine that, a face-palming cat-girl. Not a sight you see everyday.

I stood at the side as I watched the other two prepare, the Chinese woman whose name seemed to be Kai'sa was setting up the table while the Japanese, Akali, was cleaning and cutting up the vegetables Ahri and I had carried. Somewhere to my right, near the far side of the room, Ahri pulled Evelynn along and started a somewhat quiet argument. I watched them bickering for a good while, then a glint of light came from somewhere to my left, catching my attention and gaze in the process.

With each masterful cutting and slicing motion of Akali, the metal surface of the knife in her hand reflected the sun’s rays coming in through the window, sending it towards my way in a flash of blinding light. Upon seemingly finishing her job, she gently set the knife down beside her. It was then that I realized, it wasn’t really a knife, but rather a Kunai, a sort of Japanese dagger you commonly see in movies and anime. Woah, this girl’s hardcore.

“Why don’t you take a seat?” Kai'sa had approached me, gesturing towards a seat on the table she had finished preparing. She had a sweet smile on her face, which I very much appreciated after going through a couple of Evelynn’s 'smiles’. Although, when I tried to look closely, her eyes had this tinge of worry, perhaps due to having a stranger in her abode. Well, I couldn’t really blame her. I’d worry too if some stranger was suddenly going to eat lunch with me.

“Ah, thank you.” I thanked her in the most polite tone I could muster and proceeded to sit down. In front of me, just around the center of the table, was a large ceramic pot on top of a portable stove, inside it was some sort of yellowish-orange broth and a few cabbage leaves already being slowly simmered at low heat. After a few moments, Akali approached and started to add the rest of the ingredients in, organizing it in a way so that each one stays in one location and avoid mixing up with the others. There were cabbages, mushrooms, leeks, radishes, carrots, some noodles, and delicious slices of meat; a good, hearty home-cooked hotpot.

Soon, everyone had settled down at the table; Evelynn right across in front of me while Ahri sat beside her, and the two Asian beauties, Akali and Kai'sa, at each end of the table.

“Before we eat, I’d like to thank you again for helping our Ahri with her groceries.” Evelynn had her wry smile on as she turned to me. “But it’s a shame how you never really knew who we are, so why don’t we introduce ourselves.”

“Ladies?” There was a brief pause.

“We are KDA!” On cue, they all spoke together, spelling out their group name with an energetic tone. I was surprised at their sudden increase in volume that all I did was stare at them for a couple of seconds.

“Hey, you okay?” Akali was the first to break the silence. Her brow was raised in concern at my lack of reaction.

“Uh…yeah, I think.”

“Well, to explain it clearly, we’re a Korean-pop idol group called KDA.” Kai'sa tried to calmly expand on their previously laconic introduction. “Well, we say Korean, but really, we’re from different countries. Although, the language we use for our music is a mix of English and Korean, thus we fall on the category of Korean-pop, or K-pop for short.”

“Ohhh, I see. That’s fairly easier to understand.” I nodded my head just to show that I understood.

“우리 정말 이러는거야?” I thought Ahri spoke to me at first, but then I realized she had her face turned to Evelynn.

“Yes we are doing this, Ahri. It’s good PR.” Evelynn rolled her eyes as she replied. Ahri could only furrow her eyebrows in concern.

“So uh hey, I’m Akali.” Akali extended her hand towards me, looking rather chill compared to anyone else in the room. “I’m the group’s rapper, and well, the youngest and last member to join. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too.” I smiled as I shook her hand. She was so chill with it that it never ocurred to me I was shaking hands with a celebrity.

“I’m Kai'sa.” Kai'sa introduced herself as soon as our gazes met, although she didn’t seem to want a handshake. Bummer. “I’m KDA’s dance choreographer and um, hi.”

“Cool.” I smiled at her which managed to bring a smile out of her lips too. As the two ladies finished their self-introductions, I turned to the two sitting across me. Evelynn caught and held my gaze, her other brow was raised as if questioning my stare.

“If I must.” She finally sighed. “I, as you must already know, am Evelynn. One of the group’s lead vocalist and, well, elder sister perhaps?”

Akali and Kai'sa seemed to hide a snicker as Evelynn mentioned the words 'elder sister’, much to the purple-haired diva’s dismay. But instead of calling the two out though, she turned to their blonde companion.

“And of course, this is Ahri.” She motioned her hands as if presenting Ahri. “Our group’s glorious leader, as well as it’s face, and our main lead vocalist.”

“Wow, uh, quite a lot of titles, huh? Nice to meet you, Ahri.” I beamed a smile at her.

“안녕.” She responded with her own smile which was very much breath-taking, but after that, she turned away. Was it something I said?

“A-Anyway, now that introductions are over, we should start eating.” The anticipation was within Kai'sa’s voice, she must really like hotpot. “The hotpot should be well cooked now, and the broth should’ve seeped well inside the ingredients. I guarantee it’ll taste best if we dig in now.”

“잘 먹겠습니다!” All four of them say together, perhaps a small thanks for the food. Not before long, we were chowing down, positively delighted with the flavor.

“So, what do you think?” Akali asked me just before she slurped up some noodles.

“It’s pretty good.” I say as I set my bowl down. “Amazing flavors.”

“Oh, thanks, I guess. But I don’t mean that.”

“What do you mean then?”

“What do you think about our group, I mean.” She pointed to her groupmates with her chopsticks.

“Oh. Well, I think you guys are pretty cool.” I say in all honesty. “Actually, I just saw your music video a while ago, before I bumped into Ahri. Awesome neon rap by the way.”

“Heh, thanks. So…” She seemed to want to continue our conversation. “…who do you like the most?”

Everyone turned towards me at the mention of Akali’s question, their eyes actually looking eager to know.

“Uh…” The hardest question was suddenly dropped on me from out of nowhere, all the more harder as the people in question were sitting right in front of me.

“Well?” Evelynn’s impatience was oozing.

“To be honest… I don’t really know.” I tried to play it safe, but irritation seemed to appear in Evelynn’s face. Perhaps it wasn’t best to be indecisive and just go for one? So I immediately followed up. “BUT… if I really had to pick one…..well, um…it would be… uh…. Ahri..?”

“Huh, another point for Ahri then.” Akali shrugged.

“Of course it would be Ahri.” Evelynn shrugged too.

“Well, we knew it would be Ahri.” Kai'sa also followed suit.

“너희들…” Ahri seemed to want to say something, but just shurgged and continued on eating.

“Can you tell us why, though?” Akali pointed her chopsticks at me.

“Hm…well, I guess I just find it cute that she keeps speaking in Korean even though she knows straight English.” As if on cue, Ahri choked on her food and started coughing and wheezing. Evelynn quickly started rubbing her back as she gave her a glass of water.

“You knew?” Evelynn turned to me and asked, as if it was such a surprise.

“Well yeah, I guess?” I tried to recall how we met at the market. “She spoke to me in straight English before she somehow started speaking in Korean.”

“Oh dear.” Kai'sa’s face was planted with worry. “Are you alright, Ahri?”

Ahri responded with a nod as she set down the glass and started inhaling and exhaling deep breaths.

“Oh…was I not supposed to know?” I asked.

“No, you weren’t.” Ahri replied, and this time I could understand her in full English.

“Well, it’s not really much of a big deal…kind of.” Akali set her chopsticks down. “We were kind of trying to sell Ahri’s image as, well, someone who only speaks Korean, and that Evelynn, or any of us would be the one to translate for her.”

“And now that you’ve found out…” Kai'sa’s eyes looked pleading as she spoke.

“Um…if it needs to be kept secret, I can just not tell anyone, right?”

“I find that hard to believe.” Evelynn was glaring at me, but then it softened to more like a stare. “…or so I would say if you weren’t so ignorant about us or our fandom. Can I trust you to keep your word?”

“Absolutely.” I gave her a thumbs-up. “Besides, I think you guys are awesome, and so is this hotpot you invited me for. Oh, and if you’re talking about images, then maybe you should worry more about Ahri tripping on the street.”

“What…?” They all simultaneously turned towards their leader as she could only blink at them without any explanation. “Why did you have to tell them that too?” Even when she was pouting, she still looked so pretty.

“Well, they had to know how we met, right?” I tried to stifle my laugh. Before we knew it, we were all smiles and laughter as we kept talking about the silliest of things over hotpot.

“Last piece of meat is mine!” I shout as I reached for the meat with my chopsticks, but before I could, Ahri swooped in and took it for herself. “Hey!”

“You can’t beat a fox when it comes to meat.” She grinned and winked at me before munching it down.

“Oh wait…those are fox ears?” I only realized then. “I thought they were cat ears.”

“I’m a fox. And foxes love meat.” She then swoops over my bowl and steals the slice of meat I was setting aside to eat as a finale.

“Hey!!!” I stopped her chopsticks with my own. “Well you’re definitely acting like a theiving cat.”

“Aww.”

“What’s the deal with those ears anyway?” I took the meat off her chopsticks and sliced it in half, giving her the other part.

“It’s my image. Oh, thanks.” She happily ate the slice I gave her. “My fans call me Gumiho, which is in reference to a nine-tailed fox lady from Korean Mythology.”

“Ohhh, so that’s why you had all those shiny tails in the video.”

“Mhm.”

“Are the ears real though?”

“That’s a secret.” She winked at me. I could only stare at the protruding animal parts on top of her head in wonder.

“They’re real.” Akali whispered sarcastically loud in my ear, loud enough for everyone to hear and laugh about. “Ahri and her ears aside, how about we all get a photo?”

“Um… I don’t think that would be a good idea.” Kai'sa warned.

“Why not?” I asked out of curiosity.

“If the fans find out…they might find out who you are and stalk, or even assault you just to find us.”

“Woah, that seems extreme.”

“You have no idea.” Akali shook her head as if remembering something bad. Then, her face lit up, as if an idea had sprung inside her. “But what if….”

Next thing I knew, I was posing in the middle of the four ladies as Ahri held up her phone for a group picture. My face was covered with the same disguise Ahri wore when I first met her at the market; apparently, the mask and cap belonged to Akali, while the purple shades were Evelynn’s. And with that, we took a close up photo of our faces. Cheese~

Click! Snap!

“Hey.” Ahri called my attention as I stepped outside the apartment, about to leave. “Thanks for helping me carry those vegetables. Funny how I never actually got to thank you for that.”

“Nah, it’s cool.”

“So…see you around?”

“Maybe?” I shrugged. “If we ever run into each other again in the market, I guess?”

“Hopefully, I’m not tripping down again.” She laughed at the memory of it. I raise my hand up for a high-five, and she slaps it hard. Soon, I was on the street, waving goodbye at the celebrities standing outside their apartment door. Hopefully no one saw them. Hopefully.

The next morning, the whole internet was going crazy about an official post from Ahri, the leader of the super popular K-pop group KDA, on twitter. Apparently, she posted a picture of her and her groupmates with an unidentified person in the middle, sharing a groupie with them with the translated caption “Hotpot with our newest fan~”. The picture went insanely viral as the search for the mystery fan continued.

This is insane. How do you even deal with this, huh, Ahri?

That’s a secret. Come on, they’re waiting for those veggies.

[End]

[imagicalrainbowunicornpuke]

I'm sorry if I got some information wrong. The whole deaf thing was mostly guesswork for me. I'm blind, not deaf XD. But no, let me know what is unrealistic or whatever so I can fix it :) Enjoy!

This honestly isn't my fault. I know, those words are something someone who was guilty would say. But this really isn't my fault.

Okay, maybe a little.

I probably (definitely) should've told my team, as you know any person with an ounce of common sense would.

However, in the past... people haven't reacted well.

Which, to me, is completely absurd because I can still hear.

Just not very well.

Thankfully, we live in a great time with loads of technology. So hearing aids were a simple matter. In fact, my deafness hardly impacted my life at all.

Well, if you exclude the several times my hearing aids broke or when we didn't have enough money to buy them.

Which is why ASL and reading lips have come in handy on my part.

Really the only problem is people's views. If I had a quarter for every time someone spoke obnoxiously loud to me I'd be able to afford a bodyguard to keep them the hell away from me.

Then there was the whole having to lie to the garrison about my hearing so I could actually get in. They had a strict policy on any sort of disability, even ones that did not interfere with their jobs.

Since, technically, I was supposed to have tip-top hearing I didn't inform my team of my condition.

It was no big deal, I could hear perfectly fine with my hearing aids.

Until those little fuckers broke.

I seriously had to work the graveyard shift the entire summer at a local 24-hour mart back home in Cuba. Not to mention, the dozens of odd jobs where I worked my ass off for hours on end.

I guess I should have anticipated that the heat of battle wasn't all that kind to the sensitive wiring in the aids.

So, that's how I ended up where I am now, staring down at the charred and blackened little buds.

Fucking delightful.

I groaned into my hands, massaging the bridge of my nose before pushing myself up and onto my feet as I headed out of Azul.

The sentient lion sent small and soothing comments to the back of my head.

Everything will be alright

Just tell your fellow paladins

They'll understand

I shook my head at her suggestion as I left the hanger and steeled myself to face the rest of Voltron.

"The hell was that Lance?" Keith's voice broke out first.

"You were completely unresponsive!" Pidge shrieked.

"You okay buddy?" Hunks comforting tone asked.

It took me a moment to understand what they said between reading lips and what little I could hear.

"Nothings wrong just got a little distracted," I answered.

In unison, all four face's winced.

"Inside voice," Shiro reprimanded.

I sent him an apologetic look before jetting it out of there. I skittered my way to my living quarters and hid there until dinner.

The castle must have tuned into my needs, as when the normal announcement of dinner through the intercoms (courtesy of Hunk), a small holographic screen popped up in front of me.

I shook my hands out as if I was trying to physically rid myself of the anxiety plaguing my mind.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped out into the hallway and headed down to the dining room.

Avoiding the imploring eyes, I headed over to sit down next to Hunk.

Hunk already knows of my hearing. He is, after all, my best friend.

Discreetly, I dropped the burnt hearing aids into his hands.

'Can you fix them?' I signed under the table. Or... not exactly those words- sign language didn't work that way- but that was the general gist.

Hunk shook his head sadly before mouthing, 'Ask Pidge, she could.'

I shook my head while sighing.

I signed, 'I'll live, I guess.' before turning around to the food.

By food I mean goo.

I was eating away at my oh-so-amazing plate of space goo when Hunk elbowed me and pointed to where Shiro had been trying to talk to me.

"I was trying to ask if you were okay, Lance," Shiro repeated.

"Oh um, I'm fine," I could already tell by Hunk- who flinched- that I once again spoke too loudly.

I stood up from the table and headed back to my room before anyone could ask questions. A reoccurring theme, I suppose.

Hunk showed up a few minutes later and hung out with me on my bed. I always felt safe with him, he always knew what to say.

The rest of the week passed by in the same fashion, me trying and failing to act normal and then running away.

It was tiring and the other Paladins were started to get pissed. Namely a certain paladin with a short temper.

"Lance, just stop fucking yelling!" Pidge snapped.

Bet you thought I was talking about Keith. Nah, the cute- I mean annoying mullet-head dealt with his anger by storming out.

Pidge was the one who was getting frustrated with me nearly every day.

"Lance, you need to listen more," Shiro berated me for about the twentieth time that week.

The situation was wearing on everyone, and I felt incredibly guilty.

Okay, so maybe it was my fault.

I just never thought that my hearing would actually interfere with my job. But...

"Paladins! There is a distress signal from a nearby planet!" the text popped up as I was fiddling with my phone.

I jumped off my bed before sprinting to the hangar.

When I landed in Azul, I called out 'Hey baby girl,' in my mind.

'Well look who finally decided to visit me.... when you need me,' retorted the fiery lion.

'I'm sorry babes, how about I give you a good washing after we return from this mission.'

Azul replied with a satisfied hum as we shot into space and met up with the other lions.

I heard a low murmur in my ears- presumably from the other paladins as they discussed the mission.

Luckily, a line of small text popped up near the bottom of my visor. Almost like subtitles on a foreign film.

Shiro was speaking- with a purple text- about the situation.

"A small planet enslaved by a Galra fleet," Shiro informed, "We need to defeat the Galra stationed there."

I nodded once before the paladins and I headed down to the planet.

Azul and I landed near a Galra base camp, hidden by the brightly colored trees and bushes.

Noting the peculiar lack of armed guards, Azul and I decided on quietly picking them off one by one.

Not actual murder, 'cause that was fucked up. The Alteans had long ago developed a weapon that simply knocked the victim unconscious.

The numbers slowly dwindled, involving lots of me stopping and dragging their sleeping bodies behind some bushes.

I pushed my luck as far as I was willing to before climbing back into Azul.

As I was trying to figure out how I should signal the other Paladins into joining me at the base to launch a full-scale attack.

Before I could, my comms were suddenly filled with unintelligible chatter and my visor was filly up with text so fast I couldn't keep up.

Random words I managed to read before they disappeared stuck to my mind lick lead.

Help

Trap

Galra

Abort

I was trying not to freak out, and figure out where the fight was breaking out.  But at this point, the text was just filled with "ahhhhs" and various curses.

'Shit shit shit' I thought to Azul.

From the front window, I could dimly see various explosions and stray shots.

I rushed Azul into the sky, momentarily forgetting the base camp under me.

Just as I was towards the edge of the battle, the several fleets left at the camp made themselves known.

I was between two deadly forces, the fleets behind me and the huge Galran forces who were fighting the other paladins.

How amazing.

I managed (barely) to avoid the majority of the shots while sending my own back in return.

Suddenly, a screeching sound of metal against metal that even I could hear rang throughout the battlefield.

I winced at the sound and couldn't even imagine what it sounded like to the others.

Pidge, using her vines, had managed to salvage a huge slice of discarded metal and use it against a battleship.

The hunk of metal scraped across the sides of the ship, knocking off rows and rows of satellite looking objects.

Then, the Galran ships that were floating in the sky started to crash down to the planet, like a hailstorm of asshole Galra ships.

Maybe it was prudent to celebrate, but I couldn't help the joyful laugh that I let out. Pidge had just defeated the entire opposing force in one shot.

Out of nowhere, my visor filled up again.

And the main focus was me.

I sighed heavily, anticipating the lecture I'd get when we landed.

But then a few words caught my eye.

Watch out!

Move!

Lance!

Before I could figure out what the hell they were talking about, something crashed into Azul from behind.

Of course, I fucking forgot about the fleet behind me. Because duh. It's me. Lance fucking McClain who can't keep his shit together.

Azul and I were sent hurtling towards the ground.

The seat belt which had always been faulty, unclipped, sending me to go banging around in the cockpit.

Every hard surface and pointed object in the small room slammed hard against my flailing body.

Azul crashed landed belly up, leaving me sprawled on the ceiling, groaning.

Not having the strength to even move, I instead chose to stay down.

You okay, Az?

I'm fine, paladin. I just need to... rest...

The familiar feeling of Azul in the back of my head was gone, which left me feeling hollow.

Black was starting to fill my vision, distracting me from the aching pain that swallowed my body.

I didn't come to for a while.

Not when the other lions carried Azul and me off the planet and back into the palace.

Not when Hunk dragged me out of the cockpit.

Not when I was stuffed into the cryo pod.

I did, however, wake up when I was falling out of the pod and onto my knees.

Hunk came forward and helped me up to my feet.

The faces of the other Paladins weren't all that welcoming.

"Lance, the fuck?!" Keith exclaims when I exit.

The familiar furrow of Keith's brows and pout of his lips as he snapped at me made him look like an adorable puppy who was trying too hard to be a full grown dog.  

Shiro held his hand up, stopping Keith.

"Give him some time, Keith," Shiro began, "He just got out."

"Lance, stop staring at Shiro's and Keith's lips, it's too gay for me," Pidge joked.

I looked down, feeling pretty shitty, to be honest.

Hunk bristled before looking down at me.

"That's what that was wasn't it?" Hunk looked down at me, saddened. "You need to tell them, Lance. You put yourself and us in danger."

Maybe it was Hunk's disappointed gaze or maybe it was the fact that I had put them in danger, but I nodded my head before asking Hunk a question.

"You'll help me right?"

Even though I knew that my voice was much too loud, the fact that Hunk nodded in an "Of course, dumbass" kind of way made me smile.

I turned to face the other Paladins, plus Allura and Coran who had walked over to us.

"So, uh," I began- graceful I know, "I owe you guys an explanation. And an explanation as to why I didn't tell you guys. Basically, I just have a lot of explaining to do."

Shiro nodded in an encouraging way, "That's great, Lance. I'm happy you're opening up to us. But could you maybe lower your voice? You don't have to shout, we can hear you, ya know."

The smile made it clear that the last part of his comment was a joke, but it only made me take a deep breath.

"That's the thing, Shiro. You can hear me, but I can't."

The other Paladin's faces were confused, as they tried to understand what I said.

I sighed before saying, "When I was around five, I was in a car accident. I suffered a traumatic brain injury. To this day I have to deal with incredibly painful migraines. Which sucks, I guess. But the worst- well I don't wanna say worst because it really doesn't bother me. It's just a part of me now. What I'm trying to say is that I'm deaf."

Seeing the shocked expressions on my teammates made me hastily amend myself.

"Well, not deaf, but hard of hearing. Nearly deaf. I have hearing aids, so my condition doesn't even affect me. Or had hearing aids, I suppose," I said, discontented, "They were completely destroyed last week. In that one mission with the fire planet."

"So um, yeah," I tried to end the awkward ass monologue I was delivering, "That's why I've been off the past week. I can't hear shit."

My lame attempt at a joke fell to deaf ears (pun intended) was met with silence.

The fact that none of my teammates were speaking, and instead staring at me was just fucking dandy. Great for the anxiety.

I mean I was just hard of hearing, no reason to have a brain hemorrhage.

"If you guys wouldn't mind saying something, that'd be great." I fiddled with my sleeves.

Keith shook his head before saying, "Um, okay. That's a lot to process. But uh, why didn't you tell us?"

I chuckled nervously before saying, "The Garrison isn't all too keen on any kind of disabilities. So, if they found out about me they'd throw me out. Which means I can't become a pilot."

Shiro's arm clamped down on my shoulder.

"You can trust us. Believe me, I know how the Garrison is probably more than anyone else."

I nodded, feeling lighter than I had in a long while.

"You absolute fucking dumbass!" Pidge spit out, "If you would have told me I could have made you hearing aids within an hour, and you wouldn't off been hurt."

Well actually, Pidge threw words at me so fast that all I could gather was "fucking dumbass... told... hearing... hour... been..."

"Uhh...." I started, "I can read lips but that was too fast."

Hunk tapped my wrist to grab my attention before signing to me what they said.

I dropped my gaze before apologizing, "I'm really sorry, okay? I was an idiot who made a dumb decision."

"As long you know that you're an idiot, we're cool," Keith smiled.

I couldn't help the grin that took over my face from his words.

The gremlin shook their head before saying, "Whatever, I can use the information from the cryo pod to make a pair of hearing aids."

With that, Pidge left the room, presumably going to the huge room they had claimed as their workstation.

I was hella tired so Hunk and I decided to chill in the common room for a few hours.

Hunk was signing to me about what new ingredients he'd invented and how he thought he could make a cake out of them when Keith entered the room and waved me over.

I excuse myself from Hunk before meeting Keith in the hallway.

"I'd like to apologize for being an ass this past week," Keith spoke and to my absolute shock, signed along as well.

"How did you?" I sputtered.

Keith smiled sheepishly, "One of my foster families had a deaf son, and they taught me how. I actually was in my room these past two hours trying to brush up on it."

His hangs smoothly formed the words with a precision that only a person who had signed for a long time were able to manage.

I smiled so wide I thought my cheeks were going to rip, tears began to form in the corners of my eyes.

"That's one of the sweetest things someones ever done for me, thank you so much," I cried while trying to wipe away any stray tears with my sleeves.

"And you're forgiven by the way," I offhandedly commented.

I was about to try and start some sort of conversation with a (probably) awkward starter when I caught Keith's gaze.

He was intensely staring into my eyes, lost in thought, and I couldn't help but lose myself as well.

His dark grey eyes swam with flecks of purples. They shone with hidden emotions, passionate emotions.

Slowly, without even realizing, our bodies gravitated slowly to one another.

His eyes flicked down to my lips just as my own gaze was distracted by the luscious red of his lips.

Gradually, I began to lean down, edging closer until our noses were a hair's breadth apart. My eyes fluttered close as I was about to meet his lips.

"Lance, guess what?!" came Pidge's boisterous voice from down the hallway.

Keith and I scrambled apart. I launched myself so hard that I actually fell on my ass with a painful thump.

"Why are you on the floor, weirdo?" Pidge questioned with a chuckle.

"I, uh tripped..." I lamely explained as I stood up.

Pidge rolled their eyes before handing out to small white buds and dropping them into my hands.

My eyes widened as I placed them in my ears, and sound completely returned to my ears.

"I tricked them out," Pidge gloated with a grin, "They're practically indestructible."

I smiled, looking down at the ground, "Thanks, Pidge."

"No problem," Pidge responded before heading to the common room to talk with Hunk.

I turned back towards to Keith, whose cheeks were dusted in an adorable scarlet.

"Wanna walk with me to my room?" I asked shyly.

Keith nodded sheepishly before tentatively holding his hand out.

Swallowing down my anxiety, I grasped his smaller hand and reveled in the feeling all the way back to my quarters.

And maybe a little longer too.

[cuteeiji]

ostinato || part four

summary: the road keeps bending back upon itself, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. time loop au [start here] [part two] [part three] [wither] warnings: canon major character death, suicide, violence word count: 7637

iv.

“And sore must be the storm   That could abash the little bird   That kept so many warm.”

—Emily Dickinson, “Hope is the Thing With Feathers”

It wasn’t supposed to be this way, he thinks amidst the chaos. There’s a numbness running through his veins as he reaches out to grab her hand, fingers trembling, his vision swirling like a hurricane. The water pouring down on them is icy, and he feels her shudder against him as she cries.

“Natalie,” he says weakly, cupping her cheek with his shaking hand. He says it again, a broken litany that spills off his lips and cuts through the pounding water.

“Don’t,” she whispers. He can feel her hot tears dripping onto his skin. “Please, don’t.”

Amidst his swirling, hazy thoughts, he knows that this is it. The end, not in a hailstorm of fire and blood, but in the white of the tiles, the white of her skin, the endless white noise that he feels himself slowly, surely drowning in.

He never wanted it to end like this.

[8:52 AM]

“So you’re telling me,” Natalie says, bringing her knees to her chest, “that you’re stuck in some sort of…”

“Time loop, yes,” Lucifer confirms.

She leans back against her bedpost, looking at him carefully. Her hair sways loose and vibrant in the morning light, and she absently tucks a few strands behind her ear as she processes his words. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, of course I’m sure,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been trapped in this nightmare for way too long for it to be some kind of weird dream.”

There’s a tension in the silence that follows, a string of unspoken words floating in the air. Natalie tilts her head, looking morbidly curious, and lets them fall out of her mouth. “How...how long is way too long?”

He grimaces, his gaze dropping to the hems of sunlight spilling through the curtains and onto her floor. “About a month,” he says. It’s been thirty three days, to be more specific. Seven hundred and ninety two hours. Forty seven thousand, five hundred and fifty minutes, all neatly wrapped up into one tiny loop, an unwanted gift that keeps on giving anyway.

“Jeez,” she breathes, eyes widening. “And this is the first time you’ve told me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He scratches his head, still averting his gaze. He wants to tell her about how he stepped into hallowed grounds of his own accord, had prayed to his father like a stranger and received an answer in return. He wants to tell her that now, there’s a small flicker of hope burning in his stomach, and that it makes him more terrified than he’s ever been.

He wants to tell her everything.

“I… you had worse things to worry about,” he says, biting the words down before he can speak them.

“If it’s the same day, then won’t I still have to worry about them?” She asks, sniffling a little. He grabs the familiar tissue box and hands it to her.

“Not right now,” he says. “Hopefully this will all be over before you need to even think about...that.”

She shifts to fold her legs together, placing her hands on her knees. He’s seen her enough on this day to outline the hollows in her cheeks, her sunken eyes and blanched complexion and the subtle shine of perspiration on her forehead.

“Does it have to do with me being sick?” She asks, ignoring him. She pauses and narrows her eyes at him. “And why are your horns like that?”

“Jesus Christ, give me a break,” he complains, ignoring his clenching heart. “Don’t make me regret telling you about this.”

“You aren’t telling me everything, though,” Natalie says quietly. “You do that a lot.”

“What do you mean?” he says, catching the hurt in her tired eyes and the slight shakiness in her voice.

“What do you think I mean?” She asks, voice pained. “You ask me to trust you, and I do! I promise, I do, but I’m tired of you keeping things from me. I’m your best friend, Lucifer. I love you, and I’d trust you with my life, so why don’t you trust me?”

“What do you want me to say?” Lucifer snaps back, struggling to keep his voice down. “What do you want me to tell you? That I’ve had to watch you die over and over again with no way of stopping it? That I have no clue how to get us out of this mess? That I’ve tried every hospital, every magic trick, every damn thing that you could possibly think of to save you and I still wake up every morning at 8:24 AM and watch you fade away without a damn clue how to help you? Is that what you want to fucking hear?”

He lets the words settle in, gritting his teeth together, ignoring the stinging in his eyes that’s become annoyingly familiar. He inhales, clenching his shaking hands.

Natalie stares at him in complete silence, eyes wide.

Lucidity creeps back into his head as he breathes, his own words echoing back on him, sharper and sharper with every reverberation until the implications of what he’s said finally sink in.

“Shit,” he says shakily. “I—I didn’t mean for you to find out that way.”

She shakes her head, and he’s horrified to see her eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Kid—”

“I’m so sorry.”

He flinches, not expecting those words to come from her mouth. “What?”

“I’m so sorry,” she repeats, voice trembling. “No one should have to go through something like that. That’s so horrible.”

Wait. Was she...

“The fuck?” Lucifer says. “Are you crying for me? Did you miss the part where I said you were dying?”

“No, but...” she says, sniffling, “but you’re the one who has to remember it.”

He stares at her silently, incredulous. She still keeps finding ways to mystify him, even when each second he lives is recycled thirty three times over.

“You’re unbelievable,” he says, echoing his scattered thoughts.

She laughs a little, the air rattling through her throat before turning into a cough, and another, and another. She hunches over, one arm folding around her stomach while the other presses roughly against her lips, stifling the sound. He knows the drill by now, knows the way to sink onto the mattress next to her and place a hand on her back until her body stops trying to force itself out of her skin.

She breathes heavily, tiredly, and leans into him. She burns against his skin.

“Thank you,” she whispers, voice lost in the scratchiness of her throat. “I don’t know why you’re doing all this for me.”

He swallows; he knows where this conversation is going.

“Don’t sweat it, kid,” he deflects. “It’s the least I can do after you cleared up the mess in my head.”

She shakes her head, her hair brushing against his arm. “No, you could’ve left. Even with the time loop thing, you could’ve left and tried to figure this stuff out on your own.”

Natalie looks up at him. “Why didn’t you leave? You love me or something?”

Lucifer is silent. He doesn’t know what to say. How could he bring those words to spill out into the air, living proof of the way his heart is crushing him like glass under pressure? He didn’t realize it at first, that he was handing bite-sized pieces of himself to her, at least not until she faded away and took them all with her.

When he says it, it becomes real, it becomes the way that his world crashes down in front of him with the ceasing of her breath. It becomes the way he feels: achingly, fearfully, terribly. It’s handing her his heart on a silver platter just in time for her to wither to dust.

You love me or something?

Of course he fucking does.

“I do, you know,” she says gently. “I love you, Lucifer.”

He’s just too much of a coward to say it.

“...I can’t watch you die again,” he offers, as good of an answer as he can manage. His hand clenches into a fist. “I just can’t, Natalie.”

A small hand covers his curled fingers, and he looks down at them numbly. She waits for him to relax, turn his palm over, before sliding her fingers in between his. “Then we better find a way to fix this, shouldn’t we?” she says, in that ridiculously optimistic tone of hers. She squeezes his hand, looking up at him with such certainty and trust he almost forgets how many times he’s failed before this.

(Almost.)

“I told you, I’ve tried everything,” he says bitterly. “It all ends the same.”

Natalie pauses, contemplating, curious.

“What happened the first time that I…?” She doesn’t continue.

Lucifer sighs. “We went to the coast and found Pestilence. I tried to make a deal with her but it didn’t work out.”

“Then we should retrace our steps,” she says simply, standing up. “Go back to when and where it all started.”

“That’s pointless,” he says. “I don’t know how, but she knows about the loop. That makes her unpredictable. I tried to find her again a couple times but she’s skipped town by now.”

“If she knows about the loop then that’s all the more reason to track her down,” Natalie argues. “She may not be in town, but she might still be in the area.”

He doesn’t want to tell her why he’s so reluctant, why he doesn’t want to travel miles and miles to that small coastal town that’s become the bane of his existence. The place where he first lost her in that shitty, dirty motel room. The place where she got sick to begin with. Still, it’s the most logical course of action. He pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“You’re right,” he says tiredly. Of course she is. “Let’s go.”

Natalie nods, walking over to her dresser. “What about my dad?” She asks as she picks through her clothes.

“What do you mean?” He asks.

She looks up at him. “He’s going to notice I’m gone, right?”

Lucifer pauses. “I’ll have one of my followers come and fill in for you, if you want.”

She nods. “I don’t want to worry him. He’s gone through enough already.”

He exhales, reaching for her phone. “Alright, kid.”

He doesn’t mention that the meaning of taking other people into consideration has started to slip past him as the days dragged on and inverted on themselves, the point of existing becoming more and more elusive. When time reflects on itself there are no consequences to worry about, nothing to hide. Nothing to live for.

Except for her, a small voice in the back of his mind whispers.

He doesn’t know why she’s been an unyielding exception to his apathy. If he thinks about it, she’s always been that way, a thorn in his side that managed to irritate him with a single word, with a sly look, with her very existence. He isn’t sure when annoyance turned into the ache of caring, but without him knowing she had wound herself too tightly around his heart for him to untangle her from it.

“...Lucifer?”

“Hm?” He says, turning to look at her. She seems so concerned, unease inscribed on the lines of her forehead, and he realizes that he’s been standing still, staring at the phone silently for a good minute or so.

He mentally shakes himself.

“Sorry,” he says, the word bitterly familiar rolling off his lips. “Zoned out.”

She forces a laugh, pulling out a pair of light wash jeans. It sounds genuine, but he can see the worry in the red of her eyes, the subtle shift of her hands to her chest, trying to protect what’s underneath her skin.

“It’s kinda worrying,” she says lightly, her gaze fixed on her clothes. She picks out her dark red devil shirt to go with her jeans.

“Well,” Lucifer says, imagining that shirt stained with bile and sweat, attached to a motionless body in a hotel bed, on the floor of a hospital, on the rocky cliff overlooking the sea. “A month in hell will do that to you. We’ll leave as soon as your stand-in gets here.”

She was right, on that day in the pool. The devil can’t feel guilt, can’t feel the strange mix of ice and fire and overwhelming nausea that makes his hands tremble and throat swell with all the things he couldn’t fix. The devil can’t choke on the history of things he’s left unsaid, again and again and again. He should be numb to all of this. He shouldn’t be able to feel it.

He feels it anyway.

Not for the first time, he wonders if he’s becoming something else.

[9:43 AM]

The bus ride up, she’s quieter than usual. She had probably seen the bottle of cheap whiskey underneath Alex’s recliner. He had missed that the first time around, glanced past it like it was nothing. Once, he could see people’s weaknesses like they were neon lights swirling above their head, a weapon that he used whenever he had the chance. The edges of his vision used to be so much sharper.

“I know what you saw,” he says, his voice low and soft so that the rest of the passengers can’t hear them. “I’m sorry.”

Things were easier when he didn’t care.

He hears her inhale, the air seeping into her failing lungs. Something catches on her throat and she coughs, arms coming up to cover her face as she heaves. The bus riders glance at her nervously. They’ve probably seen the news too, keeping their arms close to their sides, not touching anything or anyone. He sees a woman slowly rub sanitizer onto her hands, shooting Natalie a dirty look as she did so. He glowers at her, and his angry, catlike eyes are enough to drive her stare away.

“It’s okay,” she says roughly, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. “Well, it’s not okay. I don’t know what I’m going to do.” She looks down at her knees, eyes still glazed over.

He sighs. “I know it’s hard, but you’re gonna have to focus on one thing at a time, and right now that’s getting you better.”

“But—my dad—”

“Kid, you need to stop trying to fix everyone for once and worry about yourself,” he says roughly, folding his arms. “You remember what’s at stake, right?”

She doesn’t answer him. Instead, she brings her burning gaze to his eyes.

“When all of this is over,” she says softly, “can you help him?”

He pauses. He isn’t even sure if he can help her, let alone her father, but there’s fear in her eyes and her fingers are digging harshly into her old jeans. Lucifer sighs.

“I’ll try,” he promises.

Condemnation is something that he’s become well-acquainted to; he used to meet it nightly in scummy bars, in pried off wedding rings and booze and the crisp flipping of cards on beer-stained tables. He’s been on every end of it, both victim and arbiter. Throughout the millennia he’s been here, it’s crept into his skin, become a part of him as wholly and completely as his own flesh.

Satan, the adversary. The tempter of man. The condemner of souls.

He should’ve known that he would damn her too.

The water keeps on falling.

[2:34 PM]

As soon as they get off the bus the smell of the town hits him like a punch to the throat, the scent of tobacco and salt flooding his senses. He’s been here too many times.

“You okay?” Natalie asks.

“Fine,” he replies curtly. “So, in this grand plan of yours, how do you suggest finding Pestilence?”

“She shouldn’t be far,” she says firmly.

“Why not?”

“Well, it’s her job to get people sick, right? But the time loop is making it so that she can’t finish her job here, and if she does, it just resets. She can’t have travelled much from here in the past few hours.”

“That’s true, but regardless of whether she starts the day here she’s moved on from the casino.”

“Aren’t there other ways of gambling besides there?” Natalie asks. “We can just find those places and check them off if she isn’t there.”

“That’s...actually not a bad idea,” he says.

“Glad to be of service,” she says, sticking her tongue out good-naturedly. “There shouldn’t be too many places that she could go, right?”

Wrong.

“So, there are fifteen possible spots in the area that Pestilence could be at,” he says, squinting down at the piece of paper. It was a bitch to get the bartender to fess up the underground locations, but Lucifer is nothing if not convincing.

Natalie groans. “I thought it would be much less than that.”

“It’s more than what we had before, kid.”

“Can we narrow it down any more?” She asks.

“Well, I doubt she’d be at the casino; she’s been there before.”

“Maybe she’s been jumping to places based on distance? Getting farther away as time passes?” Natalie says.

“Maybe,” he says thoughtfully. “She wouldn’t stay in one spot for more than two or three days. It’s been thirty three, so she’d be at the first or second furthest location by now.”

“What are they?”

“One is an ongoing underground poker tournament. The other is a fighting ring.”

“Like at the bar?” She asks.

He grimaces, Ipos and Sheila’s faces floating to the surface of his thoughts. “Yeah, like at the bar,” he says, turning away. “Let’s go.”

Natalie pauses, biting her lip. “Maybe we should split up and look at both locations. It’ll be faster.”

The idea of her alone, surrounded by scum who would gladly take advantage of her, makes his fingers curl. He whips his head around to face her. “Hell no. Even if you weren’t sick that would still be a terrible idea.”

Her mouth opens slightly in protest, but she seems to think better of it, and shuts it.

He glances at the addresses, scrawled hurriedly on the back of the receipt. “Besides, they’re both in the industrial district. It won’t take that much extra time to go together.”

“Okay, okay, you win,” Natalie says. “Where to?”

“The poker place,” he says. “It’s more likely to be going on in the middle of the afternoon. Plus it’s probably cleaner.”

“Why does that matter?”

“Pestilence doesn’t like germs too much, ironically enough. She’ll be drawn to a place with less blood and sweaty people.”

“That’s weird,” Natalie says, clearing her throat. He simply nods in reply, shoving his hands and the crumpled receipt into his pockets.

“Come on; we don’t have much time,” he says, starting to walk. He hears the soft footfalls of Natalie moving to follow him.

“I know you’re afraid, but I’m not. You’ve always been there to save me,” Natalie says from behind him.

He doesn’t stop walking, but he knows she’ll catch the way he tenses at her words.

“What if I can’t this time?” Lucifer asks quietly. Somewhere along the lines, bravado became something frivolous, meaningless. He can hear the uncertainty in his own voice.

Suddenly she’s beside him, hand reaching out to slip her fingers through the gaps in his.

“We can do this,” she says, and smiles in a way that makes him ache.

He kissed her, one time around.

He isn’t quite sure why. Maybe the increasing fear that he’d never escape this special brand of hell, the rising knowledge that he had both nothing and everything to lose when the clock hit 8:24 AM. Maybe just to have that memory to keep, even if she never would. As he pulled away from her, she looked at him with something that seemed strangely like awe.

She brought her hand up to her mouth, as if she could still feel the pressure of his there, lingering on her skin.

“You kissed me,” she had said, a smile playing on her lips. It was one of the few that wasn’t a grimace or a feeble attempt to convince him that she wasn’t burning up from the inside out.

He holds onto that. Her smile. Her words. Her voice.

A reminder to stay, for her sake.

[3:32 PM]

The whole place smells like old smoke, dust clinging to the heavy curtains pulled over the windows. Tables are scattered around the warehouse, figures huddled tightly around them. He squints through the harsh fluorescent lighting, eyes darting from one player to the next.

Natalie places a hand cautiously on his arm. “What do we do?” She whispers.

He doesn’t answer, his gaze still flitting across the open room. A flash of white catches his eye, and he sees her, still wearing that dress, just like she did over a month ago. He sucks in a deep breath.

“She’s here. Let’s go,” he says, starting to walk, towing Natalie along with him.

The edges of his vision are blurry; all he can see is that platinum hair, the sway of her dress as she places a card down. Distantly, he registers the security guards hovering around the tables, but he doesn’t slow as he approaches the group of players in the corner of the warehouse.

“Keens!” he yells. Natalie jumps.

She slowly turns to him, a smirk on her face. “Hello, Stan. You’ve found me.”

“You weren’t hard to find. All we needed to do was follow your filthy trail to the nearest gambling place and lo and behold, here you are,” he says, seething.

“You sound angry, Stan,” she says. “Was it something I said?”

Nothing you do is going to stop this, Lucifer. There’s no point. Your pretty little friend is just going to keep dying, and you’re going to have to deal with it.

“We need to talk to you,” he says, ignoring her query.

“I’d love to, but I’d like to finish this game first,” she says lightly, glancing back at the other players. “It’s been a boring month and I just got here.”

She’s taunting him, he knows, but it doesn’t stop him from seeing red. His closed fist slams down onto the table, its legs snapping and collapsing in on themselves. The other players shout out in alarm; chips fly everywhere, landing on the ground with sharp clacks. The cards fall like a hailstorm, sliding across the floor and glimmering in the harsh lighting.

“Game’s over, Conquest,” he says roughly, shrugging off the guards trying to grab him. “We’re going.”

She sighs, standing up. “Let’s go to the back room.” She glances at the other players, scrambling to pick up their chips. “Sorry, boys, if you’ll excuse me.”

She whispers something to a security guard, and he nods, backing away. She raises an eyebrow at him. “You could have gotten me to come with you without causing a ruckus.”

“Force of habit,” he says curtly, following her as she turns away from him. “You know I'm not good at doing things quietly.”

The back room isn’t much more than a closet, unfurnished and dimly lit by a single hanging light. Pestilence folds her arms. “So. What are you gambling this time around, Lucifer?”

“Gambling?” Natalie echoes.

“I’m not gambling anything,” Lucifer says, an answer to both of them. “I want to trade.”

“Oh?” Pestilence says, eyes narrowing. “You do realize that Ipos’ book isn’t valuable enough to trade for something as big as what you’re asking for.”

“Who said I was talking about Ipos’ book?” He says, heart beating a little faster.

Her lip quirks up into a half smile. “Elaborate.”

He takes a deep breath, fighting to keep his hands from trembling. “I know what you’re looking for, and I’m willing to give them to you in exchange for the girl’s health.”

Natalie jerks her head up to look at him. “Dude, you never said anything about a trade—”

“Are you serious?” Pestilence asks, her expression shifting to one of...pity? “Are you seriously telling me that you’re willing to give up your—”

“Yes, I’m serious,” he interrupts. “I would give up anything at this point to get out of this fucking loop.”

He gestures to Natalie. “Her being sick has something to do with this—the days repeating.”

Pestilence chews on her bottom lip, digesting his words. Finally, she sighs. “As much as I would love to collect...that, it’s not going to be much use.”

“What do you mean?”

“Regardless of whether I cure her or not, the day is just going to repeat itself when the morning comes around. I won’t have my prize, and she’ll be sick again.”

“But—the time loop—”

“It’s not centered around her being sick, Lucifer. Think about it. What is this loop really revolving around? Why are you and I the only ones that are aware of it? Who would want to do this to you?”

Who would want to do this to him? If he’s being honest with himself, a lot of people. At the very least someone with a sick sense of humor. Someone who would be just as powerful, if not more so, than Pestilence. Someone who chose to center this loop around Natalie being sick… No, not just being sick, Natalie being at her sickest, Natalie withering away, Natalie dying, Natalie’s death…

Death…

Holy fuck.

“I should have fucking known,” he snarls, his hands coming up to tear at his hair. Natalie flinches. “That pathetic bag of bones, of course he would fucking do this.”

Death. The reason that the day restarted at 8:24 AM was because it was the time that Death came to collect her soul. Those figures that he’d been seeing as the sun rose weren’t grief-induced hallucinations. Fuck, he’d been so blind.

“Lucifer, what’s going on?” Natalie asks.

“It’s Death,” he says through gritted teeth. “It’s been Death this entire time and I was too fucking stupid to realize it.”

Pestilence nods, almost smugly. “Took you long enough.”

He rubs at his temples impatiently. “I’m going to fucking murder him. I’m going to bash that flimsy skull in until it's dust.”

Pestilence snorts. “Charming. Even if you can find him, I doubt he would let you live long enough to get in a second hit.”

“How...how do we find him?” Natalie asks, her voice shaky. He glances at her face, pale for reasons other than sickness for the first time in a while.

“Well, the fastest way is to kill someone,” Pestilence says flippantly. “He’s usually there within the hour.”

Natalie winces. “Uh…I don’t really want to kill anyone.”

“Then,” Pestilence says, “your best bet is to speed up the process.”

Natalie tilts her head. “Of what?”

Instead of answering, Pestilence looks at Lucifer expectantly. “If you want to confront Death, someone needs to die. I see one obvious candidate.”

He stares at her quizzically, until it hits him with the relentless force of a freight train. She isn’t seriously telling him to…

“Lucifer?” Natalie asks, staring uneasily at him. “What’s she saying?”

“She’s saying that I should kill you,” he whispers, not taking his eyes off of the woman in front of him. His hands start to shake. “After everything I did for her, after everything I was willing to do for her, you can’t seriously expect me to turn around and murder her in cold blood.”

Pestilence shrugs. “It’s the most logical course of action.”

“Like hell it is!” He snaps. “What if by some odd happenstance Death decides to make this the last loop and she stays dead? There’s not a fucking chance, Pestilence.”

“Kill someone else then; I'm sure it won't make a difference.”

“Then maybe I should start with you,” he hisses, taking a step towards her. Pestilence holds her stare, unimpressed.

“...Maybe she has a point,” Natalie says from behind him. He freezes for a moment before feeling floods back into his limbs.

“What the hell, girl? Do you have a death wish?” He demands, turning to her. “Do you not understand the part of her plan where you die?”

“I mean, I do,” she says. “It’s just that you need to talk to Death in order to get out of this, and I don’t want you to kill anyone else.”

She sounds so apologetic. He almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of it because this is her life, her soul that they’re talking about and she’s feeling sorry for him?

He shakes his head. “No dice, kid; I’m not gonna hurt you. I’d rather rot in this loop for the rest of eternity. We’ll find another way.” He turns to Pestilence. “Thanks for nothing.”

She smiles. “When you get out of this loop...come back to me with that offer.”

“Sure won’t,” he lies, and turns away.

It’s too much. He can’t stay like this.

He gasps, feeling the energy leaving his body. “Don’t you dare, Lucifer,” she says, her voice strangely distant. “Please, you need to stop. Please, don’t.”

“I need to,” he begs her. He can count on one hand the number of times that he’s prayed in the last millennia, but each time, it’s been for her. He’s paralyzed and the world is fading away in his hands and he prays. God, he prays until his skin is burning from the holiness and his heart feels like it’s about to burst from his chest and onto the polished tiles of the bathroom floor.

Her name. Over and over. He sends it to his father and remembers the hope he once had, now a black hole unfurling in his stomach.

It’s too late for prayers.

[4:09 PM]

They exit the warehouse, the sunlight blinding in comparison to the unnaturally lit poker rooms. Natalie huffs, looking a little worse for the wear.

“Are you okay, kid?”

“I don’t know,” she replies. “Breathing feels really weird right now.”

“We’ll get you some medicine before we figure this out,” Lucifer says, running an impatient hand through his hair. They’re running out of time.

“You know…” Natalie says, her tone cautious, and he raises a hand to halt her. “No.”

“You didn’t even listen to what I was gonna say!” She says indignantly.

“I didn’t have to,” he says. “I’m not going to do it.”

“But I’m going to die anyway! Wouldn’t it make more sense to just get it over with so maybe you have a chance of getting out of this?” She asks. She stops to cough violently into her arm, almost retching as she doubles over. She looks up with a challenge in her eyes, daring him to say something.

Lucifer takes a deep breath.

“I don’t care if it makes more sense,” He says, voice shaking. “I wouldn’t care if it’s the only fucking way that I get out of this. I’m not going to do it. We’re going to find out another way to summon Death, and then I’m going to make him fix this.”

Natalie stares at him, scrutinizing. She sighs.

“Fine,” she concedes, her expression relaxing. “Let’s go get some medicine then. My head is killing me—no pun intended, haha.”

“Not funny,” he mutters, shoving his hands in his pockets.

[4:31 PM]

Natalie clutches the plastic bag, probably filled with every medication under the sun. “This should be good,” she says, peering in at its contents.

“Good,” he says. “Take it and we’ll be on our way.”

“Can’t we get a hotel room or something?” She asks. “I’m really tired.”

“A hotel...room?” He asks, his thoughts going back to that God-forsaken motel. He sees the muted wallpaper, the smell of dust and cigarettes and the slight taste of death in the air as the sun streamed in through the curtain gaps. He sees the crop of her hair sprawled onto the pillow, lips parted with a breath that would never come.

She inhales one now, the air scraping against her throat like sandpaper. “Please.”

Her hands are shaking a little bit, skin still locked on a sickly pallor that emphasizes the hollows of her cheeks, the irritated red splotches under her eyes and nose.

He exhales. “Alright.”

[4:54 PM]

He picks a different hotel this time, the Cypress Inn, it's white columns and abundance of potted plants a notch above the last one they stayed at.

Natalie collapses onto the queen size bed in their room, letting out a heaving cough. “I want to sleep,” she groans into the duvet, sinking deeper into it.

“You okay, kid?” He asks, sitting down by her. She’s never mentioned being tired around this time before today, but he supposes that it’s not too surprising; she’s been in a constant state of exhaustion ever since she got sick.

“Yeah,” she replies, her voice muffled. She flips onto her back, her hair shining like copper against the white comforter. She rests a hand on her forehead, staring at the ceiling like it’s an intricate puzzle she needs to solve. “What are we going to do?”

“I don't know,” he admits. “Are you sure I can't just find some low-life—”

“I'm sure,” she says firmly, interrupting him. “We’ll find another way.”

He sighs, hauling himself up and moving to the door. “Alright, then. I’m going to take a walk and figure this shit out. You stay here and rest.”

She nods from her position on the bed, and he feels a surge of anxiety engulf him as he opens the door. He hesitates. Something doesn’t feel right about this.

It’s only five, though, he reminds himself. The sun is still shining; they have plenty of time to figure something out.

Lucifer shakes himself to reality, closing the door behind him. He wanders around the edge of the stucco building, breathing in the salt-laden air, the sun filtering through the grove of trees arching around the inn.

What are we going to do?

He exhales heavily, running a hand through his hair. He honestly can’t see another way to summon Death besides...well, killing someone. It wasn’t necessarily something he was averse to, but the way Natalie looked at him when he was threatening Pestilence...she looked terrified. But even beyond that, she looked disappointed.

I wouldn’t be best friends with a monster!

“Get out of my head,” he mutters, the static feeling of fear coming alive in his chest.

He’s so tired. He can feel this month weighing him down more than he’s ever been, heavy stones that he can’t even fathom to shake off.

He knows that he shouldn’t feel this way; his father told him that he could fix this. There still has to be a sliver of hope that can get them out of this. To heal her.

Healing her. Maybe he should have started with that.

Because to make her better, they would need...

He groans. Pestilence. He’s getting really sick of that smug bitch. But it would give them more time and one less thing for him to worry about, albeit at a hefty price.

When Michael ripped the first set out, the phantom pains haunted him for years. Even now, he can feel the ache of where they once rested between his shoulder blades. If the last two sets were taken...he can’t even imagine…

He looks up; the sun has dropped further, only hours away until it would be cradled on the horizon. There’s still a chance that Pestilence would be at the warehouse. He clenches his fist. It’s a blow to his pride to go back so soon, and a mar on his existence to give up… that… but at least he wouldn’t have to sit with this guilt for the remainder of his days.

He doesn’t know if he could live with that.

[5:49 PM]

When he gets back to the hotel, he swings the door open to an empty room, the dull sound of rushing water flowing from the bathroom. He sits down on the bed, crossing his legs.

“Don’t take too long; we’re going back to the warehouse,” he announces to the door. “We have something important to do and I wanna get it over with.”

She doesn’t reply, and he sighs, standing back up.

“Did you hear me?” He asks, raising his voice.

All he can hear is the muffled flow of the showerhead on the other side.

He frowns, and walks over to the bathroom. He knocks on the wooden frame. “Girl? You okay?”

Still no response. A prickle of anxiety starts to brew in his chest.

He can feel his hands start to shake as he knocks again, more insistently this time. “Natalie?”

He reaches to try the doorknob, but it’s locked. “Natalie!”

The fear is back, surging forward and capturing him in its inescapable depths as he pounds on the door again. She isn’t making a sound; all he can hear is the taunting noise of the running water and his fist slamming against wood. He hits it again and the door splinters with the force, slamming open and hitting the wall with a sharp crack. He stumbles forward into the bathroom, searching for her with wild eyes. And he sees her.

She’s propped against the wall of the shower, the water soaking her hair and clothes, eyes closed and face as white as sheet. She looks dead.

For one numbing moment, he stands, frozen.

Sensation flows back into his limbs and suddenly he’s dropping to his knees in front of her, confusion and panic cascading through his veins. She isn’t supposed to be this bad. Why did she get so bad so quickly?

“Natalie, wake up.” He grips her shoulders, nails digging desperately into her skin. Her hazy eyes flicker open, drawing in a choking breath. “What’s wrong? What did you do?”

Her eyes flutter closed again, and he jerks her to him. “Natalie.”

The shine of plastic catches on the edges of his vision, and he turns to it, dread pooling in his stomach.

The medication she bought. The pill bottles. They’re empty.

His heart drops, and he turns back to her with a renewed desperation, understanding exactly what she did.

He thinks back to Oregon, how she flew off that bridge without hesitation, plummeting to the water below. Back to the warehouse, when she offered up her soul like it was a piece of meat to be devoured by the monsters lurking inside of him. And now this, the third time she’s been willing to self-destruct for something as simple as his comfort.

“You can’t do this,” he says, “You can’t do this to me.”

Her mouth opens, drawing in a ragged breath. “I’m doing this for you, dummy,” she says, her words garbled, shoving him weakly away.

“No—”

“Pestilence...is right,” She says, blood draining from her face at an alarming rate. “You need time to talk to Death...best way to do that is to let me...earlier than planned...”

“No, no—”

“Give you time.”

“No.”

His fingers fly to her cold lips, trying to force their way into her throat and choke all those pills out of her. She clamps her teeth together, eyelids heavy but determined, and if not for his pounding heart splintering into his veins and cutting the sound out of his vocal chords he would have screamed until his throat was raw. Her lips are closed like she’s holding her breath, and his own comes out in broken, staggered words.

“No—no—please—”

He clutches her hand, squeezing so hard she winces. Squalls of freezing water pour over them like a hurricane, and she shudders under the showerhead.

“Natalie,” he begs, his hand cupping her cheek. She’s so stubborn it hurts, keeping poison jailed inside her until she drowns in the drugs and the illness and the icy water. “Natalie.” He tries to shove his fingers down her throat again, and she turns her head away. “Don’t,” she whispers, starting to cry. “Please, don’t.”

“I’m supposed to save you,” he says, voice lost. “I was supposed to save you this time around.”

“You still can,” Natalie mumbles. “I know you will. Just need to.... just need to get out of this mess first.”

No, no. This isn’t happening. He can still save her. He can still heal her.

And he tries; he gasps as he feels the energy leaving his body and flowing into her. “Don’t you dare, Lucifer,” she says, voice slurring, and pushes him away. “Please, you need to stop. Please, don’t.”

“I need to,” he pleads back, but he knows it’s not working; the cocktail of drugs and the crushing illness being forced on her lungs are eating up his energy like it’s nothing. Her eyes flutter shut.

Too late, something whispers in the back of his mind.

He draws his limited energy into his hand and presses it against her chest. She convulses, back arching up, before collapsing in on itself and falling onto the white plastic. Her eyes stay closed.

“No, this isn’t fair, Natalie—Natalie!”

Again, he sends a burst of light like a shockwave into her heart. Her muscles tense but still as he removes his hand. She’s not breathing. Her head arcs back, baring her throat to the ceiling.

He places his ear on her sternum.

Through the thrum of water falling on the tiles, he can’t hear a beat.

“Y-You’re kidding me,” he says to her, shaking her. “Natalie. Wake up.”

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. He never wanted it to end like this.

“Wake up.”

He pulls her to him, cradling her head. Her eyes are sealed shut, mouth slightly parted, amber fluid leaking out of the corner of her lips. She must’ve thrown up before he found her.

“Wake up,” he pleads, tucking a strand of soaked hair behind her ear. “I was supposed to save you, kid. Wake up, please.”

But of course, she doesn’t.

(He feels a part of himself break all over again.)

Once upon a time, he could destroy empires and feel nothing as they burned away to ash.

He misses that, sometimes.

Later, he carries her to the hotel bed, the water clinging to their clothes seeping into the mattress. She’s already so cold, a stark contrast to how she was burning up just hours ago. How she was for the past thirty three days. He holds her, bunching his hands in her waterlogged sweatshirt. Through the window, the sun drops beneath the horizon, light melting out of the cloudless sky. It almost seems peaceful, save for the way that he feels like grief is eating away at his lungs.

He grips her tighter.

A familiar voice breaks the silence.

“I can’t believe this. Even watching you suffer gets boring after a while.”

Lucifer keeps staring out the window as he sets Natalie down on the pillows, as gently as he can manage.

“How the fuck did you manage to pull this off?” He whispers hoarsely, turning around to face the rider of the pale horse.

“I called in a favor from an old friend,” Death says casually, leaning against a wall. “Time is always giving me souls, and in return I give it meaning. I can bend it as I wish. We have a healthy, symbiotic existence together.”

He smiles, teeth clacking together.

“Unlike you and poor Natalie over there.”

Lucifer stiffens.

“She gave up so much for you, and what do you give her as thanks?” Death continues, unfolding his arms. “Nothing, except…Well, you see how your friendship played out in her favor.” He gestures towards her lifeless body.

Blood rushes into his head, prickling like a thousand needles stabbing into his skin.

“Just kill me,” he says, and if he can hear the slightly crazed tone in his voice, Death certainly can as well. “Just kill me, and bring her back, and leave her out of it.”

Death seems to consider it, but shrugs. “Tempting, but I’m not done with you yet.”

“What do you fucking mean?” Lucifer hisses, reaching to grab him by his stupid cloak. “What else can you fucking do to me?”

“Get your hands off me, asshole!” Death says, shoving him away. “Time loops are getting awfully dull and you’re getting even more boring. I think I might just start fresh, wipe your memory and let the cards fall as they may.”

He turns to leave, his cloak catching the air around his skeletal legs.

“Wait,” Lucifer demands.

Death stops, still facing the door.

“I told you that you can kill me. I’m giving you my head on a silver platter and you’re just going to leave? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Death turns back to him, a gaping, hollow grin splitting his face in two. “Why would you think I would leave for good, Lucifer? I have so many other games I’d like to play with you.” He pauses. “I think Russian roulette sounds fun.”

Lucifer automatically takes a step back, clenching his fists until his palms start to bleed.

“Just set it back,” he whispers. “You can have my life. Just make it go away.”

If possible, Death’s smile gets wider.

“Now you’re speaking my language. I’ll see you tomorrow, Lucifer.” He turns to leave. “Not that you’ll know it.”

“Wait—”

He doesn’t get to finish, because as Death walks away something shifts and suddenly he and the hotel room and Natalie’s body are all gone, the universe turning on it’s side like a spinning coin, time and memories slipping through his fingers like reversing gears, muffled words wisping through his head like gusts of wind.

Wake up. Please.

If I were you, I would just kill myself and end it already.

I can’t leave her.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

Natalie.

[8:24 AM]

There’s a strange ache in his chest when he wakes up, and he doesn’t know why.

[dandelionessblog-blog]

On the tip of the tongue of the year

*|| First sent out 31 Jan 2017 ||*

Dearest ministry team I spent the month of January in juxtaposition: homesick for my mom and my sister and the town of my childhood and excited-expectant and feeling the love of my mothers and sisters and brothers here in the town of my spiritual upbringing. I've been tumbling from task to task in my three jobs (that's still three less than last year, so technically still within my promise to cut down. Yay for not lying to oneself) trying to find my feet in a riverbed that has no footing, fighting Telkom, battling Grahamstown heat, dancing in hailstorms, not boiling my kettle for tea because of the price of electricity and, in the small moments of downtime, I've been blessed by my family here.

And in all that, I promise I haven't forgotten all of you. How can I, when almost every day shows me another confirmation that this is where I'm supposed to be, and this is what I'm supposed to be doing? They may all be coincidences, mind you. But if that much coincidence exists then I'm stuck in some weird mix of The Hunger Games and The Truman Show. So I'm going to call the "coincidences" what they are instead: God showering me with blessings and favour I never did even half a thing to deserve. I told you in the December newsletter that I was afraid, and that I'd put down my fears in a document called "Fears to Victories" in anticipation of God performing miraculous breakthroughs. I told you that I'd show you that list, and I'd show you the ways God came through for me, and that's precisely what I'm going to do at the bottom of this newsletter. Not to gloat, not to give you Five Steps To Becoming #Blessed, not even to show you how all things work out in the end. Because things didn't work themselves out - God worked them out for me. I need to write them down simply because He deserves the recognition. I need to write them down so my silly human brain will remember His faithfulness when the next storm cloud hits. And, just maybe, I need to write them down so some measure of peace flows over some area of your life. Please continue to send me prayer requests; no matter how "small" you'd like to qualify them. The new students are coming in two weeks, and Bible School starts in four weeks. Pray with me, please, and watch how God trumpets through in those areas just like He's come through on the items on this list. All of my love and blessings (and Valentines Day wishes) Dani

(Title credit: January 1939 by Dylan Thomas)

It's 7:43am on Tuesday November 22 2016. I'm writing this because I know two things in different levels of certainty. The first of these things is known very well by my head, heart, emotions and even some reactions of my physical body: right now I'm terrified of life. The second of these things is known only very quietly by my spirit: God will make everything okay. I'm writing this because something tiny and easily quieted in me knows that if I write down all the things that terrify me, very soon I'll have a list of things that will serve as evidence of the power, compassion and love of God. The verses in Matthew and Jeremiah are timeless and powerful, but sometimes I need evidence of them working in my life. So I'm putting my fears down in faith that in a month or two these exact things will change from fears into God's small victories in my life.

All of my household items - everything from my microwave and kettle to my plates and pots - are home in Hermanus. I need them here in Grahamstown. I have a bakkie load of things and absolutely no way at all to get them up here. Not a single way, except the moving company that wants to charge me over R6000. A few days after I arrived back in Grahamstown, I got a Facebook message from a relative of one of our Elder's wives. He said he had an empty bakkie and trailer headed up from Stellenbosch, and wouldn't I like to use their services to get my things here? I said my things were in Hermanus with no way of getting to Stellenbosch. He said no problem, he'd make the 40km detour into Hermanus on his way past. I explained that due to finances I only had a certain amount of savings left, and that they probably wouldn't be enough. He said it wasn't enough, so he'd just have to do it for free. I have everything up here, bar one bag of books and my microwave, unbroken and well taken care of, and I didn't have to pay a cent. The microwave isn't here because my mom agreed to buy my old one off of me so I could have a microwave in Grahamstown, at least. We found one, a great brand, on sale for R200 cheaper than any microwave I've seen in any catalogue or shop. It was the last one left.

Money, Jesus. Money. I'm using all my savings to make ends meet in December. I have R10 left. Lord. Lord. I didn't have to pay for internet because, ironically, Telkom's service was so bad they didn't get to connecting me in December. I got a sudden weekend-long job at a conference that was almost no work and an amazing amount of pay. Despite having two systems in place to ensure I budget properly, I somehow found extra money in my account. All my meetings with friends had them paying for me despite my biggest insistences. My rent got reduced because I only moved in on the 5th, and the amount I had to pay for deposit and December rent was to the cent the amount I had saved from the deposit paid back to me from my last flat two years ago. We have extra food money this month, despite kitting out the flat with things it needed. Expenses I expected to have to pay didn't come up this month. I was blessed so much by Christmas money; so much so that I not only made ends meet, but was able to give gifts to everybody I loved and longed to bless.

What Louise is asking me to do is hard. What if I mess up? What if I don't do it right and she gets disappointed or fires me or something? What if I can't do it well? I can't stand the idea of failure like that. So far, I haven't messed up. I've managed to work everything out bit by bit, and haven't had more than I can chew thrown at me on any given day. The one time I thought I was completely in over my head because she asked me to find a handyman to fix her bathroom, and right after she asked that I saw a flyer for a handyman on her car window. 

I need to learn to drive well enough to transport children safely by January. It's the end of November, and I haven't driven since 2012 when I barely scraped through my driver's test. I have no idea when I'll get time to practise or what car I'll be able to use or even if I'll be good enough to transport children even if I do magically find time and a car with which to practise. I'm still the reason stereotypes about woman drivers exist. But I got more practise than I thought, and I even drove Louise and her dog from the vet on Friday and only stalled once. I'm still praying for a miracle in this area.

God, where am I going to find people to be on my MP team? I don't even know where to look now, let alone when I need to start making a team that will fully support me in 2018 when I'm no longer working for Louise. How am I supposed to find people willing to give me money because they see something of You in what I'm trying to do in Grahamstown? Hello to all you reading this. Let me assure you that I was halfway convinced every one of you was going to tell me you didn't want to be on my team supporting me in the different capacities you do. And, yet, here we are on this journey together. Some of you contacted me before I even went to you. Some of you blurted out "Oh, God and I already spoke about it and He told me I should partner with you" before I could even blunder through the first sentence of my "speech". My heart is full of love and gratitude for all of you. And I cannot even begin to describe how happy I am that this ministry I am on is your ministry and your truimph and your reward as well. Thank you for following God in this way.