Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He hears the rapid stomps of Radley’s feet hitting the wooden ground. 

There is a soft patter of socked feet coming up behind him. 

Cici stops in the entryway of the living room, swings around, and takes the waist of the pinkette to pull to his body as Radley rushes past. Aphrodite laughs as she wraps her arms around the blue-haired male’s waist as she grips onto him. Radley unfortunately runs into the sofa and falls face-first into the cushions. 

But it only takes a moment for the historian to sit up and prepare to give chase again. The pinkette runs into the kitchen where Sun is looking through the cookbook Sal left behind for dinner. Cici watches the musician hide behind Sun who only has to glance at the brute and he stops in his tracks. He wouldn’t dare piss off the woman who stands so still with eyes leveling with his. A silent warning to not mess with her. And a reminder of what happened last time he made her angry by tackling her and Aphrodite when the two were playing a game of chase. 

Cici stands for a moment longer then retreats to his room. His room can be considered the “master bedroom” but all it has is a bigger space and slightly larger closet space. He covered the walls in blue sapphire paint with dark drapes to cover the window that sees out into the street, he likes how dark it is because it helps out with the migraines he’s bound to get when he’s rooming with four people who don’t know the perfect definition of “peace and quiet”.

But he wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

Cici side-steps to his desk which holds many instruments of sewing materials, textbooks with more words than a dictionary, and several photos. The blueberry-headed male glances at each photo which is mostly procured of his roommates and family friends, all with adoring faces and bright eyes that would make diamonds and stars envious. These photos are the few things he would call “his precious items”. The male turns his attention to the sketchbook he had temporarily abandoned to get a short brisk walk out of his system. 

Four months from now, there will be a “gala” so to speak. Aphrodite was going to be playing a solo (which all the roommates are very excited for) and Cici was going to be “managing” the show which would be displaying his designs for the gallery. The whole “gala” is supposed to commemorate the Heroes Command and their hard work for protecting the city. The word about the show is fast approaching and Cici is 99% ready to contact a villain to disrupt the show just so he could rest . 

You would think that directors of the show would be discrete between a fashion show and a pompous, ego-pushing event. But nooooooo , adore the heroes even though they don’t put any weight into the work that affects the everyday person’s life. 

Cici sighs as he looks down at his drawing. His “assignment” as the director explained was to manage what outfits went in what order and not to mention that Cici was going to include his own piece in the showing. But the problem was that he wasn’t sure if his outfit would be for the show. 

A delicate piece mixed with hues of the universe with sparkling lights dancing over the waffle-stitching, the hues of the space between stars would be his undercoat while his flaring train would hold the cosmos in its palm. Such a piece would draw attention but that was the problem. Should he draw attention to his work or let the mediocre work of others with their lack-lustre of models wear the fashion that screams “bored”?

If this wasn’t already a high-stakes show, he would pull the audacity to do such a stunt. But… Cici sighs. He falls back against the brace of his chair and covers his face. Never had he felt such a hatred for designing something of such beauty. He wants to do nothing more than design such elegance and run it into the show- make a spectacle. Yet, that voice of doubt plants a seed of anxiety, it becomes a stalk of warning, and thereafter, it blooms into a thing of vicious words that will haunt the man to his grave. 

Cici drags his hands down and claps against his thighs. He stares at the sketch, where the colors swirl and dance like a temptress, and it makes the perfectionist a little ticked. The light blue of the two eyes glance over to a photo that is mostly shunned by the darkness of the room, where the lamplight barely kisses the frame, and from the smallest hints of light particles illuminate the wisps of blonde hair. 

Cici reaches over and gingerly takes the photo into his grasp, nimble fingers tracing over the photo where a blonde smiles so wide with his sailor whites on his person. Holding a paper mache anchor that the older brother had made in the dead of night before the Naval Graduation. Cici bore a smile that would shine brighter than any star, Allin wore a kinder smile but it was just as wide and bright as his brother’s. A star so bright that it would be a lie if Cici didn’t say that he took inspiration from his brother’s bright smile as the star of the outfit. His bright aura was meant to complement the dress, meant to represent the show and its meaning. 

The designer tilts his head as he fondly recalls the vision that came to him. Scrolling through his phone in the dead of night after a dream that was forgotten when he woke up, he just revisited the memories of the graduation with a video of his voice clapping against the echoing gymnasium that rumbled with the screams and calls of parents to family alike, watching their child who will become a Sailor when the graduation ends. Nearly a whole year of waiting, writing letters, and phone calls with no face to see, and begging anyone beyond the apartment’s walls to speed up time. 

Cici thought he was going to lose his mind without his baby brother. 

Allin was only three years younger than Cici and the older brother felt like the younger was more mature than him. A little baby who adored sheep and wanted to become a shepherd when he grew up, the blonde boy was very gentle in nature but knew when to stamp his foot down. It often led to some interesting conversations between brothers, and Cici would have given everything in his being to relive those moments. 

He could still have those conversations but they are rare and stretched far due to the outsiders continuously interrupting the conversation. Lovers of four who adore his brother all the same, a polycule who loves his brother more than the universe could cup in its hands. When Cici calls, someone else answers for him- telling him that his brother was “busy” or will call him back later. 

Cici would bite down on his irritation and continuously call until his brother picks up, slightly annoyed but softly chastising the older brother for bothering him during a work day or a day off. “How else am I supposed to annoy you?” Cici would taunt. The younger would laugh and a conversation should follow with taunts or insults with no bark, but they are always interrupted by an outsider who requires his brother’s attention. Sometimes, the older brother wished his brother grew a backbone. If there is one thing that the Navy didn’t keep instilled in Allin was keeping a backbone and when to say no. 

Cici brushes the bottom of his thumb over the face of his brother and inhales slowly, a sick curl kicks his gut as he tries to possess the last time he spoke with his brother. Not the typical “30-minute conversation” that Sal would have with his brothers or sisters if they called (his parents never called much to the dismay of Cici who thought Sal’s parents would at least give a shit) and not like Sun with her voicemails to her smaller sibling who lives across the country in a timezone that is nightfall when Sun calls. 

Cici wants his two-hour conversations back. He wants to listen to his brother drone on and on about how silly his life has become with four lovers. He wants to talk about his frustrations and listen to his brother who tries to be the “therapist” between the two of them. He wants to tease his brother when he hears one of the lovers call out to Allin with a nickname that can only come from intimate moments between the younger brother and his lovers. Cici longs for the long conversations he could fall asleep to when his mind wars against itself. 

(It’s been keeping him up recently. The blue jester doll stares at him from the top shelf of the closet). 

The blue-haired designer sets the frame back in its place and he smiles to himself, thinking about the silly quirks Allin has; how he has a single dimple when he smiles, he shakes his hands when he gets excited, he’ll sit up straighter if something interests him, and he’ll have his innocent-doe eye look when he gets confused. He likes to sit on his left even if he is right-handed, he loves tea but will drink coffee if he wants to stay up longer with one of his lovers or to binge-watch a series he’s been recommended one too many times. 

Cici chuckles as he places Allin’s confused expression on Sal’s face. He could see the mute man holding an innocent doe-eyed expression of confusion. It would match him too well. Cici leans on his desk, closing his eyes as he thinks about the “knight” (a nickname Aphrodite and Cici agreed was accurate to the man) with his little quirks; from keeping an eye on where Radley’s spice pack goes, to fluffing up pillows, and the most funny quirk in Cici’s opinion is the reaction and action of sweeping. 

Sal is very precise with sweeping (granted that he lived with twelve siblings and two parents who were more busy with the athletic or academic children than the middle child who is neither athletic or academic). As he moved things around the apartment to sweep up dust bunnies that Cici didn’t even know existed, he refused to use a vacuum because the sound annoyed him, and he did this thing . If someone was sitting on a stool where he needed to sweep, he'd sweep under the stool but if the person was moving around on the stool or who was just leaning against it, he would just… pick them up. 

Lift up anyone (even Radley) under the arms and deposit them on the sofa. 

Then sweep under the stool and around it until he deemed the space “clean”. The first few times it happened, it was a laugh to see Sun- who is typically never touched unless by Aphrodite- was suddenly lifted like a child and carefully seated on the sofa with her hands gripping onto her knitting needles while Radley was on the other side of the sofa, simply scrolling through channels. 

It made the brute laugh. Then when it was his turn to be picked up, he scrambled and cursed out the Frenchman. Cici was lucky to witness it and had it recorded (a prized treasure) and Aphrodite called Radley as “very angy kitten” which caught the attention of the historian and he chased her around the apartment until she hid behind Sun. 

Cici tilts his head as he turns his gaze to a photo of Sun and him sitting on a bench, reading one book but in two different languages. Sun was reading a version of “ The Art of War” in Mandarin while Cici was reading it in English, both would dive into a heavy discussion about which tactics would work in modern times and then replicate those same tactics with hypotheticals with Destructive powers. 

Cici chuckles to himself as he thinks about Sun with her little habits. She would periodically “bless” one of the roommates- either may saying it in Mandarin or in English, she’ll mostly say that she hopes their day is successful and “full of fruit” which Radley interprets as a day full of literal fruit while the others take different interpretations of it; Aphrodite sees it as a blessing for good productive hours, Sal takes it as a blessing to take time to oneself, and Cici sees it as a blessing of good wishes. 

Then there are the times when someone would say something and contradict it in the next few minutes. It happened more with Radley than anyone else. He’ll say one thing but then whether it's an hour or a day later, he’ll say the opposite thing, and Sun will go behind him and smack his head. The first few times were confusing but once the pattern was made, it was a laugh. 

Radley hadn’t understood until it happened when he contradicted himself in two minutes, and when he saw her coming over with her hand raised to smack the back of his head, he quickly retracted his statement which made the interpreter take her seat. Aphrodite found it hilarious and Sal would scrunch his nose up whenever it happened (a way for him to chuckle). 

Speaking of Aphrodite, Cici would admit that her little quirks were his favorite of the bunch. The one he noticed happened the most occurred when one of the roommates were struggling to get by the day- whether it was Sal who was just tired of signing all the time with no communication being given back or Radley needed a moment of her time to calm him down like they did back in private school- she’ll play her harp and hum with a tune. 

Any song that was the roommate’s favorite song of that day would be played and with her humming, it made everything seem like syrup. Cici felt his body go slack, eyelids heavy, body curling into the comfort of an invisible blanket, and with her voice luring like a siren, he was knocked out. Unfortunately, he fell asleep on top of Sun who did not appreciate becoming a pillow but she forgave him after she smacked him in the nose. 

Cici has yet to cash in his “one song on the harp to make me feel better” ticket and he would hold onto that ticket until he really needed it. But for him, he would say that his favorite thing about Aphrodite is how clingy she is when it comes to naps. 

She might as well be the reincarnation of Sloth because she loves to sleep anywhere on anyone in the apartment. 

Cici got to experience firsthand how clingy the pinkette was. He remembers it vividly because it was the one time Radley had an advantage over him (in that he had knowledge of something he didn’t). The blue male was happily relaxing on the sofa, reading a book, minding his own business , when there was a shadow, and suddenly, a heavy weight made his limbs ache. The pink-haired musician decided that he would be the perfect spot to take a nap on, vaulted herself over the sofa, and nestled herself perfectly on the other. Completely disregarding the other’s desire to know if he was going to become a pillow. 

The other laid still, arms in the air with a book in hand, face scrunched with confusion and looking at the pinkette as if she lost her mind. He did try to nudge her off of him, but her grip only tightened and her kneecaps dug into his side if he wiggled around. The historian returned from work with a sigh, rolling his head around to relieve the neck cramp he most likely got from studying old books and ruins, and he paused when he saw Cici trapped under the pinkette. That weary fatigue disappeared when he saw his face, it must’ve been particularly offended because the brute just leaned against the frame of the kitchen entryway and asked with a snarky tone, “Comfortable?”

Then went about his business, leaving Cici alone to “suffer” the punishment of becoming a pillow. Not that Cici minded, he wasn’t going to cook when someone was sleeping on top of him (much to Sal’s joy). When the pinkette did stir, if only lured by the smell of soup that Sun was making, Cici was given relief. The blue-haired roommate glared at Radley when he came in, a silent ‘tell me what just happened,’ and the other simply shrugged, “She likes to sleep on people.”

Afterward, she did confirm with Cici that she felt more comfortable sleeping on people than she does alone in a bed. “The heartbeat is a musician of its own right. I would rather listen to a heart pump life into a person than sleep to white noise.” And much to Cici’s surprise, the pinkette did listen to a heartbeat when she slept. It confused the man at first but after finding her dead asleep with a heart gently beating in the backdrop of her room, he couldn’t find himself to turn the pinkette away when she went hunting for a napping “pillow”. 

The designer laughs softly, holding the idea of the pink musician hunting someone down to just nap on them. The face Radley made was funny and when provided context, it made the situation more funny. Speaking of the crazed man, the man was certainly… surprising. Most would think that his little things would be rough and rude but, there was more domesticity in his quirks. 

Cici wouldn't believe it until he saw it personally but it was true in all fact. Aphrodite was the first to tell him about the quirks, how Radley would leave food warm and hot for anyone who was coming in late and how he would hover over someone’s shoulder when they felt slightly uneasy outside the apartment, and many things that were oddly domestic and sweet. Would the brute ever admit it? No. Never. He refuses to admit his little habits were more of a place of heart than rageful bouts of anger. 

But Cici got to witness the quirks firsthand. The first time he got to witness the historian taking protective measures for the roommates was when Cici and Sun were going to the store and the brute wanted to buy more spices for the meal that night. Cici wasn’t sure what brought on the historian to hover and tower over the paler woman when she was “talking” with some guy. Cici found the interpreter staring blankly at some guy who was trying (and failing miserably) to flirt with her and as the guy seemed frustrated with the lack of response, he took a step forward which was his first mistake. 

The dark-haired roommate hovered behind the pale woman with eyes glaring and darker than a solar eclipse. His bulk was already formidable and with his unruly hair, he looked like a bear who had just awoken from his hibernation and was terribly hungry. The guy was easily scared off by the size of the historian, and when the interpreter turned around, she reached up and patted his cheek a couple of times, then went over to Cici to place a packet of dried orange peels into the cart. 

The roommate watched the brute survey the area more than once to keep an eye out for the guy if he tried to come near the woman again. Luckily, the rest of the visit went off without any other problems.

Cici returned home and pulled the pinkette off to the side to ask her about the situation. She listened with a perked-up expression and smirked when the blue designer mentioned the look of absolute feral hate the other male wore when he hovered over Sun’s shoulder. Aphrodite crossed her arms loosely, tipping her head back to nod to the brute himself, “He does that. He always did that with me. I never know why but he always had this protective look on his face when he saw someone he cared about being harassed. It happened to me a lot in university and he dedicated himself to keeping me safe. Even when he was at wrestling practice, he made me stay at practice.”

‘Just to be safe,’ went unsaid and Cici would admit, it was sweet that the historian was caring so much for the roommates that he would intimidate and hover with a murderous glare to keep that roommate safe. 

The next time the blue-haired roommate got to witness Radley’s uncharacteristic domesticity was a personal encounter. Cici got back from work way too late for his own liking (thanks to the boss who has no idea how to run an event) and when he expected to find a quiet home with cold leftovers, he was surprised when he found the brute scrolling through his phone with two bowls of warm broth and noodles sitting in front of him. It was a genuine surprise to see the taller roommate so calm and quiet when he is the complete opposite. 

Cici closed the door and before he could open his mouth to ask, the other grunted and pointed at a stool he had pulled off to the side next to him, “Sit. Eat.” That was all he said. 

Who was Cici to object to an order? The blue roommate sat and when the chopsticks were given to him, he dug into the food. He didn’t know how hungry he was until the first drop of salmon broth dripped onto his tongue. Cici devoured the dish and didn’t leave a drop behind, vicious and hungry, Radley observed and pushed his dish to him which Cici devoured. Once both bowls were metaphorically wiped clean, Cici turned to the other, and almost asked him if he needed something to eat too but the other stood, collecting the bowls and depositing them in the sink. He then walked over to Cici and tugged him over to the sofa, the action was confusing until Cici was sat on the sofa and the other sat next to him, covering them both in a blanket and that’s when Cici’s spine profusely thanked the brute for his gentle guidance to something soft.

Cici was out like a light and promptly fell asleep against the other. His body wrapped in dreams and a warm body who was more than happy to get comfortable and rest. (The feeling of another body of warmth slapped Cici to his younger years, how painful it was to remember the warm body of a partner he thought would love him forever).

(How wrong Cici was. The lover who had wings of glass-stained windows held him after a long day of work, his body a small heater that just melted the stressed body of the tri-major student back when they both attended the same university. Then how cold it was when the lover of glass left him behind in favor of chasing a light to protect the world. A job that means death. Cici knows from personal experience the death wish it was to join the Heroes Command). 

When Cici woke up with the brute half-hugging him, he found Aphrodite taking a picture and winking at him. His hoarse voice of confusion stirred the brute and like a mama bear seeing her cubs threatened, he chased after the pinkette while she shrieked in faux fear, running around the apartment until Sal and Sun acted as a “meat shield” to protect the pinkette from the faux rage of the historian. (He got her back when she wasn’t looking, he grabbed her by the waist and wrestled her for the phone to delete the multiple photos she took of the two males resting against each other). 

Cici smiles as he pulls himself from memory lane and looks back at his sketchbook. He felt his amusement from memory lane dwindle to nothing as he stares at the sketch with colors swirling around him like a haze of sickly colors buzzing behind his eyes, a migraine-inducing moment. The designer stands, closing his sketchbook and going to his closet where piles and stacks of older sketchbooks sit, he slides the book into its respective cubby and he glances up to the top shelf where a hand-made jester plush sits. 

It’s been there. Sitting and watching him. Like a ghost haunting it's murderer. Cici would normally feel uneasy about the crooked button eyes and a stitched mouth forever creased into a smile. The male stares at the doll, his left hand hesitantly extending then pulling back, and shaking as his hand stretches out to poke the plush body of the doll. 

Cici feels his chest constrict, distant ringing echoes in his ears when he hears the maniacal laughter of someone who lost something close. He sees blurs of cerulean blue mixed with dark hues of black swirling around him as someone kneels before him and adjusts a small bundle in his arms. Allin was wailing, the pacifier was lost, and all the vigilante could do was tuck the jester doll in Cici’s hands, and then there was this sickening squelch and the world turned red-

The physical feeling of the doll spooked the designer from his stirring memories. The doll starts to titter forward, ready to fall and without much thought, instinct kicks in to scoop up the doll and cradle it to his chest. The designer stood at the opening of his closet while his shoulders rose to his ears, a tense silence drifting into his room as he mutedly tears up. His hands grip tightly onto the doll as he tries to calm his rapid breathing. (The mere thought of losing the doll caused his heart to accelerate and his mind to grow hazy). 

The male feels his head get light when the smell of smoke burns into his nose, making him gag. He tries, he tries to push away the memory of the flames, the screams, and the cold hand he held onto while bouncing his baby brother. The slack expression the vigilante wore while half of his body was mangled beyond recognition, the small boy just stares while the sirens and calls for him and his brother echo over the clearing. Someone takes his brother, then he’s lifted into someone’s arms with his eyes covered. But the image of the vigilante is ingrained in his mind and memory.

“He’s seen too much”, “Get him to the hospital,” “Why were there children in the battlefield,” were repeated over and over as he and his brother were rushed away. He just lets himself get carried away while the body is covered and someone shouts for an ambulance to hurry. Cici tips his chin to his chest, inhaling a haggled breath while his fingers dance over the doll’s clothes. 

A mainly black outfit with aqua diamonds decorated the knees and chest, the left arm of the jester was white with the ruffles had streaks of navy blue streaks while the right arm was all black with the same streaks in the crease of the arm. His hair was sort of mixed with his hat but there was a whip of white that dangled in front of the button eyes, his “hair/hat” were two sections of “quills” that were all sapphire blue except for the underside of the hair, which was black with small cerulean blue embroidered eyes creased like they were laughing despite no mouth under the eyes. 

The button eyes was one black button stitched on the left side of the face with aqua yarn stitching the eye to the doll’s face and the other button was all white with the same yarn keeping it in place. It was a small doll but it was an item that Cici would surely rip the world apart to find it if it was ever lost. (Who gave it to him? He can’t remember exactly but he knows that he knows who they were and how they were related to him).

Cici rubs his fingertips over the hair while kissing the top of the jester’s head, closing his eyes to recall the old smell the doll had. He remembers the day that the doll didn’t smell like blueberries anymore, he was heartbroken and sobbed to his foster parents at the time that his doll didn’t smell like blueberries anymore. They tried to infuse blueberry essential oil into the doll but it was the wrong smell. Cici wondered if the other roommates noticed his inclination to blueberries. How he would take his sweet time searching for a blueberry scent that he likes. 

He would beeline for the oils in hopes of finding something that would trigger a memory for him to remember the smell. It was annoying at first; Sal would be patient but Radley would groan loudly and drag the roommate to checkout or demand he pick a vial to purchase. Sun would look with him but at the incense while Aphrodite took her time smelling each vial until she got bored and begged the blue designer to go somewhere. 

He wondered if this little “quirk” of his annoyed or amused the others. Surely, they have seen him browse at blueberry-scented oils or sprays but grumpily exit out of the aisle and do a different activity. He should tell them about the doll but that would mean that he has to explain why he needed the doll to smell like it did in the past. The designer sighs again and looks at his bed, looks back at the doll, to the bed, and then closes the closet door. His phone was off to the side and he flopped onto the bed with the doll firmly gripped to his chest as he stared at the ceiling. 

“I’m not a child yet I clutch onto you like you're a lifeline.” He says aloud to the ceiling. The doll doesn’t respond but there is a faint memory of a chuckle that echoed in his ears. Cici turns to his side as he curls into the fetal position and buries his face into the pillow and the doll’s head. “It’s ridiculous. This is ridiculous.” But he doesn’t push the doll away. He only thinks about the vigilante’s eyes that mirrored his own; how they were full of life before it faded with his shallow breath, how they looked at him and his brother with such love it rivaled the love of God to his followers, and yet, that look of love and mirroring shades of blue were never seen again. 

Photos of his body were revoked and hidden under lock and key. Because how dare the Heroes Command acknowledge and honor a vigilante. Cici scoffs as he pulls his head up, ‘I should call Allin.’ 

A desperate attempt to reconnect. To have those long hours of conversation while Cici clings to the last moments of his childhood memories, most of the forgotten memories were trapped in the doll- mocking him because he doesn’t want to remember the memories that caused a rift between him and the world around him. One hand awkwardly reaches forward and grabs the phone from the nightstand, thumb opening the call app and his thumb presses the profile picture of Allin’s face when he still wore the sailor’s white hat from graduation. 

The profile becomes larger as the phone rings. 

It rings. 

And rings. 

Rings a fourth time. 

The fifth time is always a charm.

“Cici?” A groggy voice answers and the older brother nearly stutters a cry of relief. “Evening Al, did I wake you?” There’s shuffling on the other side of the phone. “No, I was awake but I did have to climb on top of Holly to reach the phone,” there’s a quiet voice in the background, more than likely one of the lovers. “It’s my brother. Hold on Ci, let me go out to the patio.” A flash of green fields with towering pine trees falls over the mind of the older brother. 

There is more shuffling, a click of a crutch as the younger balances himself to stand up and wobble to the door. The flash of Allin lying in a hospital strikes Cici faster than lightning. Seeing his brother lying on the edge of life and death, it sickened him. Seeing the uneven dent of the hospital blankets, where one leg was perfectly fine but its parallel twin was missing. 

“Why did you call?” Allin asks as he yawns. Cici doesn’t respond for a moment, listening to his brother breathe and settle on a chair in a place where he cannot visit him because his brother is all the way upstate and lives in a manner that Cici had given him for privacy for him and his lovers. “Cici?” Allin calls and he begs, “Tell me about your day.” 

He hopes that Allin missed the slightest crack in his plea, he hopes that Allin will just talk and not ask what’s wrong, because if he does, Cici won’t be able to stay on the call long enough to explain. 

“Alright, do you want funny or ridiculous?” Cici shuffles as he retorts, “Aren’t they the same?” Allin snorts and says, “You are a grammar and vocabulary dictator.” Cici chuckles, he wonders if the other roommates know about that quirk. “So earlier today, Sunny decided to try and cook breakfast,” and Allin describes in great detail about the morning that led to a horribly burnt breakfast and into the afternoon where the only other male in the group of five was very startled to see deer eating out of Allin’s hands. “He thought they had rabies, even when Lily reassured him that I wasn’t going to get sick. But you know him, always worrying about me.”

Cici relaxed his tense body over the course of the call, laughing and commenting on the strange moments of the five lovers. “Did he try and take you to the clinic?” Cici pokes. There’s a tired sigh from his brother is enough for Cici to imagine his brother’s posture; slumped against a wooden swing on the patio, his crutch leaning against the house, fiddling with the ends of his golden waffle scarf that he wears all the time, no matter the temperature, and his one leg swinging over the side of the swing, kicking up dust from the wooden deck.

“You bet. It took Holly and Lily to hold him back to bring some common sense to him. I wonder if he had a traumatic experience with a deer back in South Korea because he’s acting like I was bit and mauled to death by one.” Cici laughs again and curls closer to the phone, the jester doll’s head tilted with its permanent smile staring at the phone. 

“You know as well as I do that I would do the same,” Cici compares. He wonders if the other roommates find his curious and sometimes nosey behavior annoying or endearing when it comes to them leaving the apartment when they don’t have work. “Very true.” The younger brother answers. 

Then the line is quiet. 

It’s peaceful, it’s tranquil, and Cici could fall asleep to this peace easily. He needs this kind of quiet with the buzz of the phone next to him, letting him know that his brother is still around and not miles upon miles away from home. 

“Hey Cici, are you-”

Before the blonde brother could ponder and ask about the older brother’s worries and woes, there’s a creak of a door and someone says something about dinner. “Oh- ah. Go ahead and start without me.” Allin says, his tone is insistent. ‘He knows me well.’ Cici comments. “But Sunny will make a fuss and I really don’t want to deal with her unholy screeching tonight.” A deeper voice grumbles, Cici can hear the slightly tired expression Allin makes with a short huff. “Cannoli, I’m talking with my brother. I’m sure Sunny-”

There is an interruption with a high-pitched woman shrieking for the two males to get their asses in the house or she’ll burn the manor down. The deeper voice (the male lover) sighs deeply and says, “Tell your brother to hurry up and end the call unless he wants to pay for a new place for the five of us to stay.” Then the patio door clicks closed. 

There is silence again on the line, but it’s not the peaceful silence. It’s the silence that worries Cici off. 

“You didn’t tell them that you inherited the manor yet?” He inquires. Allin sighs deeply (he sounds more tired than Cici), “Not yet. It’s been…” The younger brother trailed off, leaving a trail of quiet that never followed after the younger’s voice. 

He doesn’t like that. 

There’s that hint of irritation that can cut wood in half for how sharp it is. It makes Cici sit upright, “Everything okay in the front?” He asks, eyes narrowed and the hand holding the jester twitches as the brain creates a pathway to get on the road and drive six hours to reach his brother and break several traffic laws in the process. “Before you jump into your car and break all the laws of the road,” Allin warns as he shuffles around, most likely reaching for his crutch. “Everyone is sort of feeling… “cramped”? With Cannoli retiring from the army, he doesn’t have a lot to do. Holly and Sunny don’t have neighbors to annoy, and Lily… She’s hiding in her greenhouse more often.”

‘Leaving you alone when you need company to keep you afloat,’ Cici wants to voice but he stamps out his aggressive hiss to respond with, “Ever go into town?” The patio door opens and suddenly there’s an excess of noise from one noisy female, “We do but it’s the same. I think everyone is just going stir crazy for how… “empty” the property is. I told them we could go on vacation but they insist that it’s fine.”

‘But it’s not,’ Cici knows that Allin is thinking. 

A little quirk they both carry- they know when the other is struggling with interactions and everyday life. Both know when the other needs help but that was when they lived in the same place, with food to fill them, now though they were miles apart but one phone call tells Cici that his brother needs someone that isn’t his lovers. 

“I could always drop by,” Cici comments but before Allin can take up the offer or reject it, that same voice shrieks louder, “ALLIN! GET YOUR ASS IN THIS KITCHEN BEFORE I DECIDE TO REENACT DANTE’S INFERNO AND CRUCIFY THIS MANOR IN FLAMES!” Allin sighs and says, “I have to go and calm Sunny down before she makes that threat a real thing. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He swears and the phone line goes dead. 

Cici pulls the phone away from his face and stares at the photo of his brother. He never calls the next morning, having four lovers distracts him enough, that there is never time for him to call Cici back. Not when the worlds they live in are so separate. 

Cici drops the phone back on his nightstand and sighs. He curls back into the fetal position and buries his face into the doll again. He’s annoyed. He hates this. He needs his brother to be safe. He should have insisted that Allin stays with him, stay in the apartment, and tell off the lovers who were so cruel. They don’t understand. 

They can never understand. How dare they make Allin’s life so complicated after everything he went through? How dare they-

“Yo, Earth to Blueberry, are you alive?” Cici snaps his head to the door and says, “What?” The door starts to open, Cici sees Radley’s shadow about to breach the dark layers of the room and Cici looks down to see the jester is still in his lap. A twitch of panic flies over him and he shoves the doll behind him while he hurriedly crosses his legs and grabs his phone to make it look like he was just scrolling. 

Radley opens the door all the way and leans against the frame, “Oh good, you’re alive. Everyone has been rounded up to watch Barbie and the Nutcracker by Pinkie so get up. Before she decides to drag you by your ankles.” Cici laughs with a mildly confused look but the expression Radley wore was not kidding. “Oh- well okay, I’m getting up.” Cici swung his legs over and then paused, “Wait-” he called out before Radley could get too far. 

“Hm?” The other grunts. “What did you call me?” The burly brow of Radley’s furrowed for a second, “Oh. I just called you Blueberry. You always keep looking for those blueberry oil thingies and I thought it would be- I- Do you not like the nickname or-” Cici springs up to his feet like a rabbit hopping out of its den, a smile worming its way to his face. “No, no! I like it! I didn’t  know I had a nickname.” 

Radley looked mildly confused by the sudden turn around of emotion then looked pleased upon hearing the validation of the given nickname, “Well of course moron, we all have nicknames. Like you, you all keep calling me Spice.” He says it like it annoys him but there’s that ticked-up smile that says otherwise. Cici smiles and skips to the side of the historian and loops his arm around his, “Well then, let’s not keep Pinkie waiting too long, right Spice?” He teases and the brute grunts closing the blue-haired roommate’s door and walks with the other, “Sure thing, Blueberry.”

(Cici tries to not preen under the nickname. He loves it). 

When the duo rounded the corner, there was a news report on; a golden blur was chasing a woman with a golden crescent moon who was blasting her moon-filled waves at the golden blur. “Golden Earth Dragon still fighting Lady Moon?” Radley asks and Sun responds, “Yes. This battle has been going on for two hours according to the reporter.”

“What was the longest battle between a Hero and one of the Dragon’s Clan villains?” Cici speculates. Sal answers when the duo sits on the sofa, “Ivory Dragon versus Sea Wave. Four-hour fight. It was mostly her throwing the punches, Ivory Dragon just keeps dodging.” Cici hums and as the TV is turned to a different channel, he leans against the behemoth of a stove and curls close to the brute. The historian grunts and slumps a little to make it easier to lean against him. 

Radley doesn’t argue until Aphrodite decides to use him as a pillow and perches herself on his shoulders. 

Chapter Text

It’s covered in pink streamers and curling decorations that would make any angsty teenager barf. Anyone who despises the holiday would call it a scam. There are some shoppers who browse the aisles and a few do collect candy and maybe a card or two. If Sun was honest, most of the shoppers were giving her and her roommate weird looks at the basket full of pink items. Aphrodite, apparently, adores Valentine’s day for the mere idea that everything will be pink and/or red. 

Sun doesn’t mind some pink, but there is a basket full of pink items like more throw pillows, candy, cards, decorations, streamers, and the kitchen sink in the basket- she began to wonder if she was making a mistake by tagging along with Aphrodite to do some “shopping”. Target always went overboard with the pink items and candy, the iconic red basket with the white bull’s eye was rolled forward a little bit for the next aisle, Aphrodite rummaging through the cotton blankets and humming as she looked between the pink blanket with red hearts and the red blanket with white hearts. “What do you think? Red or pink?” 

Sun only blinked and sighed shortly, “Whatever you think is best.” The pinkette hummed and tossed both into the basket and then pushed it forward, Sun tagged along although a little more annoyed with how long the pink roommate was taking her time with picking out new items to coat her room in. She almost wants to voice her annoyance but seeing the pinkette so content is enough for her to be relaxed. Sun adjusted her smaller red basket on her arm to keep it upright while trying to keep her calm facade as the other female roommate continued to browse and pick out more items. 

“Aphrodite, are we finished here?” Sun asked, setting her basket on the cart and gesturing to the cart that was about to be overflowing. Aphrodite turned to the other and said, “Almost. We just need to buy some items for Cici. Something about his brother.” Sun raised an eyebrow and followed after Aphrodite dropped another cotton blanket (much thicker this time) into the basket. 

“Cici has a brother? When was this information revealed?” She inquired, scooting off to the side to let a mother and her three kids pass by without any issues. “Last night. Cici and I were in my room, putting up decorations, and his brother called.” She turned the basket and said, “His brother sounded really upset, made Cici look like he was going to either break the law or murder someone.” Sun nodded, following the line of questioning as the duo exited from the pink hell into the walkways to reach the aisles of fridges and fruit. 

“I’m assuming he told you about his brother?” Aphrodite stopped the cart and reached for a fridge door, “Not really. All Cici told me about his brother is that he’s younger, he joined the Navy at 19, and is currently in a polycule.” Sun hummed as the pinkette pulled out the frozen pizza that was shaped into a heart and dropped it atop of the thick blanket. “Are you sure we need to do a heart-shaped pizza? I swear, Radley would make something more substantial than a pizza.” Sun commented as the pinkette reached into the lower rack to grab an all veggie pizza for Sun and herself. “Cici promised to go out and buy the cups, Sal is with Radley to pick up the soda and other stuff we can’t buy here.” With a perked brow from Sun, Aphrodite clarified, “Alcohol. We’re going to need alcohol.” 

“We can buy alcohol here, though?” The pinkette shrugs as she replies with a boop motion of her finger, “But they don’t have the good alcohol. They just have the same old stuff. Nothing fun .” She clarifies as she picks up the third pizza and pops it atop of the other two pizzas. 

The duo continued their path, Sun keeping her hand-held basket close while also tailing behind the pinkette. Their outfits were mostly summer wear; the musician was wearing a flowing white dress with her pink shawl covering her forearms, Sun was wearing a long white skirt with a egg-white blouse, and both had their aids in their baskets. 

By law, anyone with a destructive power will need to have their aids by their side. No matter what the situation may occur, you are required to have it by your side- as the public and government assume that the people with destructive powers would just blow up the city to the sky if they walked out of the house with no aid. It applied to kids, the elderly, the sick, everyone. Only those without “destructive” powers are allowed to walk freely, some people have to tip-toe around the aids because their powers aren’t labeled “destructive” but it can be labeled as such in the future. 

Sun’s younger sibling had to tip-toe around that line. With the beautiful ability to shape-shift into a massive haetae of dumpling white and tusks protruding from their mouth, they are at risk of being declared “destructive” (even though they wouldn’t hurt a fly. They are much too curious and cautious for that type of destruction).  It’s proposed that those with “world-ending” powers would be highly oppressed and perhaps, back in the late 1800’s- they were. But with aids always evolving and bettering the life of a destructive-powered individual, there wasn’t really any way to oppress anymore. 

But that doesn’t stop people from staring or whispering. Pointing or shuffling away from those who have aids. 

Sun didn’t want to say anything, not to Aphrodite because she would snap and make a scene, but there was someone who was following the duo around. There are times when the two would turn a corner and the pale interpreter would see the man following with his phone out. She initially thought that he was following them because they were seemingly alone. He continued to follow them, even when they went around the store to the food, the candy, the cards, and Sun even asked to drop by the pads and tampon aisle to see if he would follow. 

He didn’t. He stopped and ducked into the other aisle to avoid entering “No Man’s Land” as Sun had heard Radley call it before. She did pick up a box of pads and she briskly walked with her arm linked with Aphrodite to the check-out. The pinkette seemed none the wiser. Sun has dealt with people like this before, following her around because her aid was floating by her side while she was doing one thing or another. She’s been stopped by police when she was walking home, she’s been called names, and she’s been harassed by many people. But then again, who hasn’t been harassed or outcasted because they had something that was seen as “dangerous”? 

Aphrodite finished putting the last of her items in the cart and she dragged the poor woman into the Starbuck’s . “I’ll buy you your tea.” She said simply and got in line. Sun scoffed gently but didn’t stop the woman, she was stern when it came to anything sweet like the unholy candy drinks that the chain has to offer. The interpreter stood by her side and felt something behind her, it was just one glance to Aphrodite to see that the guy had gotten behind them and was suspiciously close to them. Had Cici, Sal, or Radley been here, they would have made the guy scamper off. 

They are easily horrifying to see and with their own faces disgruntled, it would send anyone away. But it was just the two of them. Trapped. They took up the next space to order and Sun tried to create a barrier of space between herself and her roommate, hoping that maybe the guy would get a hint and back off. But he just stepped closer, almost peaking over their shoulders to see their phones. Sun looked at the cashier and saw the cashier watching them. 

The two made eye contact and Sun tightened her lips to a grimace. A silent plea for help. The duo went up and Aphrodite started with Sun’s herbal fruit tea then slowly gave the cashier instructions to her drink. The whole time, the cashier squinted at the guy who was about to step forward to get close to the girls but backed off when the cashier glared at him. 

Sun sagged ehr shoulders when she saw him walk out of line and towards the exit, blissfully thinking the guy was gone. The girl looked back at Sun and mouthed, “I’ll call security,” making the extra layer of protection ease the leftover tension from her shoulders. Before the transaction was completed, Sun pulled her wallet out and personally handed the cashier a 20$ tip, silently mouthing ‘thank you’ as she and her roommate stood off to the side. 

Both standing off to the side, they waited for their drinks while passing mindless chatter for the upcoming night. They were going to watch several rom-coms from the past century, watch silent films, Aphrodite and Sal demanded that everyone watch at least one Marilyn Monroe movie, and during such movies, the five would drink till dawn and eat pizza and candy as if they don’t have a care in the world and are gluttonous demons who will thrive on the sugar rush that is sure to occur after two hours into the drunk-candy consumption. It was a gentle conversation that would normally make everything in the world seem right. Take everything easy after the odd “encounter” with the stalker. 

But it is never that easy. 

“Aren’t you ashamed?” A snarky voice questioned. Sun groaned internally with a sharp exhale while Aphrodite turned her head to the guy. His phone was out, wearing some underground band t-shirt with ripped jeans and oily hair. The face was scrunched up and disgruntled, as if he found something repulsive or offensive, his dark brown eyes looking between Sun and Aphrodite’s faces then the basket covered in pink and red items. His phone had to be recording them, Sun knew this, it wasn’t the first time someone recorded her while she was in public (and not for her benefit). “Pardon?” The pinkette inquired, rather put-off by some guy holding his phone up at her. “I asked, are you not ashamed? Are you deaf and stupid?”

Sun pursed her lips but Aphrodite snipped back, “First of all; those who are Deaf are not stupid. They are perfectly able to do anything and everything a hearing person can do, so shut up about that. And second, who are you? Why would I be ashamed? Ashamed of what exactly?” Sun would always thank the gods for the pinkette’s swift tongue. She had moments where she wished she had snapped back at someone who insulted her but she never could come up with the response quick enough. 

The guy, seemingly undeterred, responded with a step forward, “You are evil. You should be locked up for what hell you’ll bring to the world. You deserve to be locked up forever.” He cocked a smirk as if he won the argument but the pinkette only responded with a scoff and a petty laugh, “Please! I should be locked up for having so many pink items! That’s not a crime. And I’m not evil, I’m sweet like sugar. But you…” She trailed off and looked him up and down and tutted softly, “You look like you need a sugar mommy to make you feel like a man. Poor big baby.” 

Sun almost snorted. Almost. The guy backtracked and tried to back a comeback but Aphrodite flipped her hair at him while turning her back, disengaging from the conversation and prioritizing her attention on Sun. “You know what I’m craving?” Sun hums, a small smile worming her way to her face as the guy sputters and attempts to get back some attention but the pinkette ignores him. “I am craving some McDonald’s . I really need something salty.” Sun nodded at her and replied, “Some salty fries would be nice.” 

“Aphrodite!” The pinkette straightened up and walked over to the counter, thanked the barista, and handed the drink over to Sun. Then two events followed; the pink roommate had her drink in her hand out which meant that the drink was out in the open, the guy was still there trying to get their attention, and he focused in on the drink in the pinkette’s hand. 

Then swiped it at her. 

The strawberry puree mixed with mint and vanilla creme liquid spilled all over her. Making her freeze and everyone around them freeze. Sun thought the world was going to become deaf just by the sheer horror on Aphrodite’s face as she looked down at her pearl white dress that was now stained with her favorite drink. 

“You are evil! You all deserve to be locked up like the Ivory Dragon! All Desctructives deserve to rot in a prison forever!” 

Sun wasn’t sure if Aphrodite was going to snap or if she was going to continue to stand while her dress absorbed the drink with her hair dripping small drops onto the floor. Sun glanced around to see many people from check-out lanes, the line to the drink shop, and even employees staring with wide eyes and horrified looks on their faces. Sun would have the same expression if she never experienced such discrimination. The interpreter turned to her roommate, ready to help her clean up but she saw the cherry pink eyes looking at her, then she winked. 

The pinkette closed her eyes and started to sob . Controlling her pitch enough for her voice to echo in the store and capture the attention of the people entering or those in the far back. Her cries echoed and rumbled in the store walls, but the main point, she got the attention of others. Her sobs echoed and when more people started to surround her, they all saw the guy with a panicked look on his face, his phone still out and pointing at the girl. “What did I do to you!?” She sobbed, trying to wipe her tears while breaking down harder. A few women came over and pulled out tissues and used their jackets to cover Aphrodite while also surrounding her in a makeshift wall. 

“All I was doing was buying things for my daughter!” Aphrodite sobbed. Sun knows that she doesn’t have a daughter. Aphrodite doesn’t have a daughter. But does everyone else know that? No. 

“What- you- Liar!” The guy shouted, which only made the attention fall on him. “What’s wrong with you?”, “How could you?”, “For shame! Get out of here!” Were shouted and repeated while employees made their way over to the two roommates and formed a small crowd around the two girls. “She- She’s a Destructive! She’s going to kill us all!” The guy shouted. “It’s my daughter’s harp, you monster! She loved Valentine’s Day! I just wanted to make her happy wi-th-with decorations!” Aphrodite shouted louder, bringing more than just the front to attention. The women and employees around the duo comforted the best they could while security was brought out with the manager. 

Sun had to admit, if Aphrodite wasn’t pursuing music, she would be a fantastic actor.

The guy just looked more frustrated (or flustered from the wrong attention he was getting) and he shouted, “She’s lying! She- she’s lying!” But Sun could see the lack of power his words carried. Aphrodite only cried louder. The women around them began to yell and scold the man, how dare he insult and assume something about the two ladies who were minding their own business. Sun watched as the bystanders started to tap on their phones and the commotion started to stir in the crowds. 

“I’m posting this to Hoot . Everyone needs to see this dirtbag.”

“Who is he? A Hero? Rude prick.” 

“I’m posting this on everything. This guy needs to be put in his place.” 

Sun watched as the guy’s face fell as the words of the people around them started to register and before he could try to back up, someone stood behind him. The guy shot around and cowered at the height of the other; tall with sharp topaz eyes, long silver hair with a golden pin holding the hair into a low ponytail, a clean washed-out gray suit with sharp black shoes that would probably cost the guy four year’s worth of paychecks to buy.

The man towered over the guy and his sharp eyes kept the guy in place. He didn’t have an expression, just stared at the guy until security finally arrived and escorted the man into the back for questioning. His shouting was drowned out by the women who shouted louder at him. “Poor dear, do you need a ride?” One older woman asked Sun. The interpreter turned to Aphrodite who started to cut back on the tear-fest. “No ma'am, I can drive my roommate and I back home. But thank you for the offer,” Sun atoned while the employees helped Aphrodite to the bathroom to help her clean up. 

As the musician was led away, the interpreter caught her winking and returned to her sobbing act. The crowds continued to whisper and send worrying glances towards Sun, which she nodded her head and parked the basket off to the side to give room for the clean-up crew to clean the drink mess. “I’m going to remake your friend's drink, stay right here.” One barista begged as she ran behind the counter to make Aphrodite’s drink. Sun watched as the people started to dwindle and she was left alone with the basket. “Are you alright, ma’am?”

Sun felt herself jump (which she blushed) and looked up to the man who towered over her. She would admit, he’s handsome. He was taller than most of the males around them, maybe a little taller than Sal. His face was slack- empty from any emotion- but his eyes were full of fire while his brows had this ditch in his face. Anyone else would think that he had no emotions based on his face, but Sun could see that his face expressed worry. 

“Yes, yes, I’m okay. A little startled but I’ll be okay once I know my roommate is okay.” The silver man hummed as he turned his golden eyes over to the bathrooms, “I’m sorry that you two had to encounter such a thing. Those with Destructive powers don’t deserve such treatment.” Sun hums as she looks down to the harp in the basket, being careful with her next words. “It can’t be helped. We carry power that is a danger to the public and the world so it’s not a shock that we must face it.” 

The silver man blinks as he replies, “But wouldn’t it be easier if everyone simply accepted such people exist?” Sun nearly scoffs, looking at the man in the eyes and sternly replying, “No one is going to accept a Destructive in everyday society. Not even the “villainous” Ivory Dragon.” The silver-haired man blinks slowly and then reaches into his coat pocket, pulling out a card. “If you or anyone needs some help, call me. I would rather not see innocent Descrtrutives like you need to be subjected to oppression.” The hand offers the card and Sun hesitates. 

To her general knowledge, there are offices that offer protection for the people with dangerous powers but they are small and few. Making it nearly impossible for Destructives to find proper representation unless they had an ungodly amount of money. Sun slowly takes the card and finds her hands nearly bending to the card itself; it was heavy as if it was made of silver bars, there was golden leaf lettering, and a name that struck her curiosity. “Ivis Iris? Aren’t you the CEO of the business that has the most employed Destructives in the city?” She asks. 

The silver man hums and smiles softly, “That I am. And if you or your friends need anything, just call me and I’ll help you.” The other stood, tipped his head, and walked off. Sun blinked a few times and looked back at the card, a twitch of her brow etched into her face as she traced her thumb over the card. “Here you go hon, I hope your friend is okay.” Sun is pulled away from the card and she quietly thanks the barista as she takes the drink. She waits for a few more minutes and sees Aphrodite exit the bathroom with her hands wiping away her tears and thanking the other ladies around her while her voice cracks with “emotion”. 

The duo were fretted over once more and then they headed their way to Aphrodite’s car. They load up their items and once they sit in the car, Aphrodite wipes her cheeks and composes herself far too quickly. “That was fun,” she chimed as she started the car. Sun stares at the pinkette with an amused furrow of her brows, “You and Cici would have been great actors.” The pink-curled woman giggles, “Perhaps. But anyways, who was the tall hottie you were talking to?” Sun sighed as she leaned back, “A business person who offered to help us if we ever had any issues.” 

The car was pulled out of the parking lot and started its way back to the apartment complex, the pinkette drumming her fingers on the wheel, “Okay, but he was standing there for a bit. Did he do anything? Say anything?” Her eyes glanced at the quieter roommate who closed her eyes and said, “No. He just offered to help us if we ever needed it.” Aphrodite sighed with a roll of her eyes and she continued on. 

By the time the both returned to the apartment, all three boys were in the living room and looking bored out of their minds. Both girls saw the boys’ heads perk up and the mad dash of limbs climbing on top of one another as they reached for the doorway. “Where have you two been ? It’s been four hours.” Radley states while glowering at the girls. “Had an accident, if you looked at my dress.” Sal helps Sun take a few bags and when he sets the items on the counter he signs, ‘What happened?’

The pinkette set her drink on the counter and faked fainting into Cici’s arms as she loudly announced, “I was attacked! Brutally by a man who wanted to embarrass me for being a Destructive!” She faux-wailed. Cici cooed and fell backwards onto the sofa which made the pinkette scramble before she got trapped by Cici’s arms. “Some moron thought it was smart to record and follow us around the Target , then he splashed Aphrodite’s drink all over her while spewing the same old crap about Desctrutives.” 

Radley stiffens as he looks over to the pinkette who waved her hand at him, “Don’t start thinking about finding the guy. He was taken away from security. Plus, I got to bust out the waterworks and wail like I was a grieving mother. Said my aid was my “daughter’s harp that she loved to play on Valentine’s Day”. I was very quickly saved by fellow women and employees. Sun got approached by a hottie.” 

Cici seemed to perk up and looked right at Sun as the other two males did the same, making an uncharacteristic blush flush over the pale cheeks. “He just offered to help us out if we encountered morons like the one today.” The pinkette hums and whispers loud enough for everyone to hear, “He seemed rather attentive to you.” Sun scoffed, “He just gave me a business card to call him if something were to happen. Nothing else happened.” Radley grunts as he asks, “Did they ask you on a date?” Sun didn’t even dare look at Cici or Aphrodite who gasped loudly, “No. No, he didn’t. All he said is that, if there was a problem then to call him so he could help out. That’s it. No date. No going out.” 

Cici stuck his tongue out, “No fun. You should go out with him if you bump into him.” Aphrodite clapped her hands as she announced, “Oh he was handsome . Definitely up Sun’s aisle. He was wearing a suit and he looked very professional.” Cici whistled and Sun glared with a squint, “Quit it. Go take a shower before you get Cici all sticky. Sal and I will get the pizzas in the oven.”

The pink-curled musician stuck her tongue out and got out of Cici’s arms. “And hurry! I want to start the rom-com.” Cici called, all four got to hear the pitter patter of Aphrodite’s feet hurry to her room and the familiar sound of the shower turning on a few minutes later. “What about her stuff?” Radley asks, kicking the bags on the floor. “Leave them. She’ll get them tonight.” Sun sighs and taps Sal to wave him over and help her get the oven turned on. 

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‘Kiss the Reddish-Green Dragon, Marry Sea Wave, and Kill Fire Spirit.’ Sal signed as he helped himself to another slice of pizza. “Really?! I thought you surely would have kissed Sea Wave and kill the Reddish-Green Dragon,” Cici comments while trying to keep very still. ‘Meh, Fire Spirit pisses me off more than any hero from the agency.’ Radley snorts, “Lame,” then bites into the pizza. Sun looks up from her knitting needles and asks Aphrodite, “What about you?” 

Kiss, Marry, Kill was a “traditional” game to play among singles (so said by Radley and Aphrodite). Most of the victims were heroes and villains. Radley said he would kiss Queen Frost, marry Golden Earth Dragon, and kill Fire Spirit. Sun said she would kiss Lotus Dragon, marry Frost Queen, and kill Four-Leaf Clover. Sal was next after the pinkette ushered him to respond as she finished the last touch on Cici’s nails. “Okie dokie! All done!’ The pinkette announced and let Cici sag his shoulders as he looked over his nails. “Pretty!” He commented as he showed them to Radley and Sal. Sun hums in agreement. “Oh Radley~” The pinkette cooed and squatted, ready to pounce on the brute if he tried to avoid his fate. 

“Fine, fine. I’m coming. Sit down.” The burly man navigated to the front of the sofa as the pinkette squealed happily to paint his nails. “Fine. Cici- kiss, marry, kill- who would you pick?” Sun comments. 

The blue-haired roommate sits on the cushioned chair as he picks up a slice of veggie pizza, “Hmmmm. Kiss Lotus Dragon, marry Great Tree, and kill Silver Faerie!” He announces with a kick of his legs. “Who the fuck is “Silver Faerie”? Sounds pathetic.” Radley comments as he attempts to face the blue male but gets smacked by yanked back to look at the pinkette. “Oh right- he uses a different name now, I meant to say, kill Lord Faerie .” Cici amends, taking a bite of the pizza. 

‘That was his old name?’ Sal asks while leaning against the coffee table of the room. “Well yeah, that was his first name when he was a rookie of the Heroes Command but changed his name after a few years working for the organization.” Sun looks at Cici as she asks, “How do you know this?” Minus two of the four, the other two watched the blueberry’s face switch from different emotions; contemplation, apprehension, then indifference. “Meh… I- Uh… Went to school with the guy.” 

Radley snorts from his place against the sofa, “What does that mean? You knew the guy in civilian form?” Cici leans back and crosses his arms as he mumbles, “Well- it can’t be helped that I dated the guy before he became a hero.” It was true. Fairen and Cici were what many people would call a “power couple”; perfect lives, perfect nicknames, perfect communication, and the most perfect outlook on life. The two were happy, Cici was happy, and he believed that the two of them would be something more in the future. 

(The old wedding photos and venue pamphlets were still under his bed along with the flowers and clothing he would wear. The best honeymoon spots for them to enjoy their marriage. It was all ready in his mind. But the glass-winged man wanted something else). 

Cici remembers the day the boyfriend told him that he wanted to pursue the path of a Hero. Initially, Cici voiced his worries and unease, to which, Fairen promised that he would never leave Cici to worry. But after a few months of rookie camp and small patrols, Fairen found more joy in working for the public and dealing with Destructives than loving and spending time with Cici. 

Their breakup was… cruel. 

Cici recalls fleeting moments of himself dealing with the aftermath. It wasn’t a pretty sight. And when Fairen soared up the ranks to where he eventually became one of the most popular heroes in the city- it did not make things easier for Cici. 

“Wait- wait- wait- wait - what do you mean you dated the faerie hero?” Aphrodite inquired, pulling her attention away from Radley’s nails and pinpointing her sharp gaze at the blue male. “We used to date in university. He wanted to be a hero, I supported him, he eventually broke up with me, and now he’s one of the most beloved heroes in the city.” Blueberry adds bitterly, “And he broke up with me over the phone.” This time, Sun and Aphrodite chimed in at the same time, “Noooooo!” Sal sat upright with a bit of cheese hanging out of his mouth while Radley looked over at the blue male, eyebrows furrowed with disgust.

“No, he didn’t!” The pinkette gasps as she leans over her crossed legs. Cici only sinks lower on the sofa, “Unfortunately, he did.” Sal, who had all forgotten about the pizza, signed with his hands rapidly- the basic translation of it was- “Does anyone know about this information?” Cici waited until Sal had calmed down along with Aphrodite who was ready to spring from her spot on the floor to tackle him to get more information. Cici replied saltily, “Just my brother. He was the only one who also knew about the faerie’s identity. Matter of fact, he offered to post about it and tell everyone when the faerie got promoted. I had to reason with him.” 

A lie. A small lie but it carried some truth. It was Cici who wanted to post about the identity of Lord Faerie but Allin was cunning and quick to reign Cici in. “It would be a mistake. You know that.” Allin had said on the night that Lord Faerie was given the reward for saving two derailed bullet trains on the outskirts of the city. “But- but- he’s… He doesn’t deserve it!” Cici roared, grabbing one of many chocolate boxes and throwing them at the TV in a fit of rage and hormonal upset. Allin sighed on the other end of the video call and responded with a soft voice, “Give it time. You’ll be over him with a new guy to love you.”

Cici sniffed and responded with a grouchy tone, “I’m not in a polycule, Nilly. I’m not getting a new lover that fast.” The blonde on the other end shook his head and the two stayed on for as long as Cici could remember. It was one of the few calls he could keep Allin on for a long enough period of time that the sun came out.

“That’s nice of your brother… Why didn’t he do it?” The pinkette demanded, waving one of the glass vials of nail polish at the other. Cici replied with a huff, “Because he was still in the Navy. He would’ve gotten in trouble.” Which was not a lie. Sal grunts and signs with his face contorting into a pinched expression, ‘Does Lord Faerie know that you know his identity at all? After all this time?’ To which, Cici shrugged, “Don’t know. He hasn’t called or come up to me about the thing so I assume he thinks that I “forgot”. Which is impossible for someone like me.” Radley snorts and turns his attention back to the pinkette, “Got that right. You still nag me about the time I accidentally caught you using your powers.” 

This time, Cici snorts with a smile on his face. “Wanna see it again?” He asks. Before the brute could respond, Sun replied in his stead, “No. Stop it. It freaked me out enough. Leave it be.” Cici stuck his tongue out and returned to slouching on the sofa. Sal snorts from the memory and returns to eating his pizza. 

Now that Cici thought about it, does Fairen know that he knows his identity? It's not a law but it is known that if you know the identity of a hero, then you are to be placed in protective custody and sworn to never speak a word about the hero’s identity. Cici knows this well, Fairen knows it too, so does he know or even remember that Cici knows who he is ? Most likely not. And Cici was okay with that. It meant that he could still live his life danger-free and hero-free. No need to unearth old bones and secrets now. Radley grunts when his nails are completed, he stands slowly and shows them off to the others, Cici takes his hands and smoothes his thumbs over the nails. “Love work on the fire detail, Sugar. So pretty!” Cici comments. 

If Cici had the option, he would much rather be with these four, rather than cooped up in a place with no one but the ex who broke his heart. 

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The thug grunts as the policeman shoves him into the back of the car. Lord Faerie waves goodbye to the press as he takes flight, his glass-stained wings kissing the rooftops as he glides and shifts around his sword by his side, his mask covering his upper face while his mouth is pressed into a tight grimace. He was running late and he needed to do one last patrol before he retired for the night. 

Luckily, the apartment complex isn’t that far. 

He really shouldn’t be doing this. He’s endangering him, if anything. If Millie, or gods forbid, Fire Spirit found out that he was weekly checking on his ex, then he would surely be the laughing stock of the whole city. But then again, if he explained his side of the story- then it would be a different outlook. But Fairen knows that Cici will kill him if he ropes the guy into the hero business. 

Lord Faerie sees the apartment complex and slows his wings to brush against the wind, letting him land slowly on the side of the building. Just out of sight of the streets and the many cameras. The hero slips his mask off his face and reaches for the rusted iron bars of the fire-escape. He grunts as his silver shoes click loudly against the metal grate and even with slow steps, his armored feet still make lots of sounds. 

Farien keeps a tight grip on his sword as he presses himself close to the railing while keeping an eye out for anyone who might leave their complex to go outside for a smoke break or something. He would rather not get in trouble when he’s actively sneaking around and checking on his ex whom he hasn’t seen in five years. ‘Five years’ echo in Fairen’s head as he gets closer to the open window. Five years after he broke up with one man in the world who loved him more than the universe itself. Five years of precious memories turning to blurs and mucky colors. Five years of leaving someone to hurt because he got caught up in the praise of higher authority. (His mother still scorns him for breaking Cici’s heart over the phone. She'll never let it down). 

The window is nearby, he's memorized it- just like how he memorized where the apartment complex is and how to get there without anyone raising an eyebrow. Cici always loved to curl under the covers of his bed and sleep the night away, the cool air of the open window would give him such relief to curl under the covers. 

It was always the same. Cici would be cocooned in the covers, half his face covered by blankets, perfectly asleep, and completely unaware that his ex was checking on him once a week to make sure he was safe. Fairen didn’t mean for this habit to happen, it sort of… occurred. 

Fairen remembers the files, he remembers reading about Cici’s father- learning from Great Tree about the sacrifice Cici’s father had to make. The horrors the younger Cici had to go through without a proper father to help him and his younger brother. Farien had to find out that his ex was potentially just as powerful as the Fount Knowledge. The vigilante who died under Ivory Dragon’s first awakening. 

The faerie tried to recall any memories of Cici showing potential in power as strong as Fout Knowledge but all his memories became blurs and the only thing he could remember was hearing the broken cry of Cici when he broke up with him. His heart weighed a little heavier that day, not because of guilt, but knowing that Cici loved him so much. That was a downfall of the blue-haired designer, he loved many people and was easily hurt when they hurt him. 

The whips of sapphire blue curtains pulled Farien out of his memories and he got into a crouch. He had to be very careful and slow, he couldn't risk getting caught. The silver-armored hero slowly stepped to the window and peaked his head around the corner, only letting out a small huff of relief when he saw Cici wrapped up in his blankets as usual. His face was facing the window with his body curled perfectly like a sleeping cat, his hair was pinned up in a sleepy bun while strands fell over his face. 

Fairen watched the rise and fall of Cici’s body and recalled distantly a memory of finding Cici curled up one night when he came home late. The blue-haired designer wasn’t dead asleep, he pulled Fairen into the mass of blankets for a cuddle before knocking out. The hero considers that memory to be one of the few untainted memories he could remember so clearly. The hero’s foot swung over the window frame and carefully stepped into the room, the sword was detached from the hip and set on the carpeted floors while the armored hero stepped closer to the sleeping form. 

Lord Faerie hovered over the blue designer, armored hand coming out and slowly lowering to rest on the head of the sleeping person. Soft lips meet the forehead of the designer and a cold thumb rubs the rouge strands of hair out of the way. The hand lingers on the blue head of hair and the hero stays hovering, watching the slow rise of the chest and breathing out the softest exhale with the designer. 

Gods, he really does miss him. He misses the days when he used to come home to a house smelling like freshly baked cupcakes. He misses the days when he would find the blueberry-haired designer fast asleep atop of many books. He misses the soft kisses he would get. He misses the butterfly kiss that Cici made for them, and only them. He misses the smaller body that could somehow tackle him onto the floor and start a faux wrestling match. He misses Cici and his sporadic smiles. He misses him. He wants to fix what he broke. But he knows that would be a mistake. It would end up with Cici more enraged than swooned. 

He’s gone before dawn breaks. His lavender tea eyes stared at the blue designer before turning away and flying off. Hoping that no one went out looking for him. As he left, the eyes of the designer snapped open and watched the tail end of the glass wings flap away. The “Cici” that was sleeping in the bed started to shrink, slinking and cracking non-existant bones into fluff. The face molding from a human face to a perfectly round head with button eyes replacing the closed eyes. The plush sits on the bed, the permanent smile creepily frozen while the doll’s body slowly gains mobility. 

It waddled to the edge of the bed, flopping to the floor, and dragging itself to rest behind the door. Coincidentally, the bedroom door opens and closes softly, a hand wraps around the doll’s torso and is pressed closely to the chest of Cici. “I was wondering where you went.” He whispers as he goes to the closet, setting the doll on the top. “Sorry about that. Hopefully, you weren’t too bored behind a door.” 

The doll doesn’t speak, button eyes staring out, but within its body- it knows that Cici is safe. Cici will be safe as long as it still moves. And it must be patient. It must remain patient.

Chapter Text

The pale woman looked between the two jade-colored jars, one holding circular tea bags of chamomile and the other holding square-sized tea bags of raspberry. Both priced equally but taxed differently. It was such a paradox on her; one was taxed higher that she had to do a double-take when she saw the price, she made a mental note to not buy that brand of tea, but she remembered how wonderful it was to drink the tea when her throat get dry from all the voicing she was doing while performing her job. Now she had a dilemma where she couldn’t remember which tea had that extra tax while the other didn’t have tax whatsoever. 

Sun’s face betrayed her external desire to not show emotion but she was well aware of three things: there were a group of teenagers with their parents staring at her, the incense lotus flower aide was hovering over her head, and she has been standing in front of the jars with tea bags for at least forty minutes. She could feel her locked knees ache as her head was threatening to spill over the side of light-headed, and she really didn’t want to cause a scene.

The pale woman closed her eyes and placed both glasses into her cart and started to exit out of the aisle. Moving to the next one, she pushed her cart to the middle of the hall to reach for the canned peas and canned peaches. She was thinking of making her homemade peach dumplings; you use a flour-cake batter as the dough and you fill it with small bits of fruit, and it could be any type of fruit. She would make peach dumplings for her younger sibling when they came home saddened by their power delay and they would eat under the stars while playing a long game of GO . 

Ironically, that was a reason why she was even at the store alone grabbing ingredients to make the dumplings. She was feeling homesick, more homesick than normal, and with that feeling of longing to relax in a house that smells like sweat and happy memories, she was out of the apartment and collecting items to make her favorite treat. Cici was in the kitchen for one reason or another, mentioning that he was going to be late from work that night and Sun barely replied as she closed the door and sped walk to the bus stop to reach the next bus before it took off. 

Now she was reaching the aisle to grab a can opener. Radley was incompetent enough to somehow break the damn tool. Cici was trying to open the can but thanks to his left-handed shenanigans, he couldn’t open the can. Sal wasn’t home and Aphrodite was whining louder than usual about wanting some peaches to munch on, so Radley took the can and not only opened the can but broke the damn item. So she was on the hunt for a new one- more specifically- she would buy two just to be safe.

The utensil aisle was a little downwards, closer to the cashiers, and as she passed, she felt more eyes follow her as the aide floated around her back- keeping her powers in check. If the interpreter turned around, she would be 100% sure that there were some people pointing their phones at her back and whispering things under their breaths, either mocking or spreading rumors. She couldn’t care less. She was indifferent. She had to be indifferent to how the people perceived her. 

Once she reached the aisle she needed, she found not only two can openers but a sight she dearly wished she didn’t have to deal with. On the further end of the aisle, two teen boys were fiddling with the items on the racks and laughing- making loud noises and irritating her as she needed to get by them to reach the incense. Logically, she could go to the other aisle and simply walk to the register but her delay in standing made the teenagers notice her. 

Most of the time, the decent kids would leave the aisle like she was the plague or they would stare at her as if their eyes were the irises of Medusa and they could turn her to stone. They stood upright and kept staring at her, Sun stayed close to the rack and squinted her eyes as they stared. There was this air of unease, maybe they didn't see a Destructive before, or that they weren’t sure why she was so pale. It wasn’t the first time either that she was asked by a concerned person for her pale complexion. 

The interpreter gripped onto the handle bar of her cart and flicked her eyes from one pair of eyes to the next. She wasn’t sure if this was them giving her away to move past them or if she needed to verbally ask them if they needed something. Her throat tightened as one of the boys shuffled for something in his pocket (and it wouldn’t be the first time that she would have a weapon pulled on her). 

“Oh dear, you didn’t have to wait for me. I would have arrived at the cash register eventually .” Sun turned her head to the right and found an elderly lady hooking her arm around her elbow and leaning on a wooden cane that was crooked like a scoliosis spine. Sun almost shooed the old woman away, informing her that she was with the wrong person- but saw the two different-shaded blue eyes and the long pale cerulean sapphire hair pulled off to the side into a side braid. She was the old blue crawl with its hanging threads and long cobalt dress with keyhole patterns decorating the fabric. 

Cici was wearing a t-shirt with that same pattern and he had that tattered shawl over his shoulders. This older woman had the same eyes and she looked eerily like Cici. But old. ‘This couldn’t be…’ The older woman turned her head to Sun and nodded forward, “Come, come. If we want to make it to Crochet Night- we must hurry.” Sun blinked and mutely nodded. She stepped slowly with the elderly lady following in wider steps, and as they were about to reach the threshold of the aisle to the registers, Sun turned her head back and saw the teenager holding a small aide in his hand. 

Perhaps he wasn’t trying to scare her but inform her that he understood her. He knows her sudden frozen moment came from experiences that he knows. The elderly lady turned to the boy and looked in his hand and back up at him, “she” smiled and said softly, “Do well with that beautiful power of yours.” The boy merely blinked and nodded. The boy turned to the others and the group left. Sun blinked and turned to the elderly lady as “she” walked over to the cart and pulled out the chamomile tea jar. “This is the one that has that extra tax.”

She walked to the aisle and placed it safely on the shelf and rehooked “her” arm around Sun’s elbow, “Off to the register, my dear grandchild.” Sun turned her head and squinted, “What are you-” 

“To the register!” 

Sun and the elderly woman got their items on the conveyor belt and the cashier scanned the items. Sun turned her attention to the person who she knows is not what they seem. “What are you doing?” She questioned. The blue woman turned to her and pouted gently, “I was merely helping you. You seem to forget that I frequent here often. So often that the manager knows me. And you also forget that I almost know everyone here.” Sun gave an affronted look. 

She wanted to smack him. 

She knows it's Cici. It has to be. She is more sure than ever in her lifetime that this older woman is Cici. But at the same time, that would be impossible because Cici doesn’t have a power- doesn’t he? 

Cici watched the mental war behind Sun’s eyes rage as she stared at him in the older woman form. He hadn’t used this form in awhile but when he saw the teenagers, he had to help out the poor interpreter who was freezing because she does not know how to interact with teenagers. Cici almost felt bad for her, she was so well-versed in the professional work of courts, meetings, and so on that she forgot how to interact with the hormonal children who have no real clue on how the world works. 

The cashier finished up the bags and asked if Sun would like to pay cash or card. The interpreter squinted at him and turned to the cashier to finish up the payment. Cici waited until the duo were at the car before reverting back to his normal form, which earned him a slap on the back of his head. “HEY!” He shouted with a pout. Sun raised her hands on her hips and leaned on the car, “What were you thinking ? Were you trying to fool me?” She demanded, her eyes uncharacteristically narrowed at him as Cici threw his hands up to surrender. 

“I was helping! I saw those boys and you have no ability to interact with teenagers anyway- HEY! IT’S TRUE! ” He dodged another swipe for his head by the woman who reached forward to smack him. 

Sun fell back and crossed her arms, “Still. I don’t need to be saved.” Cici rolled his eyes and quirked a smile, “As if you weren’t going to keep staring at the teens in fright.” The two stared at one another for a few more seconds and Sun sighed, “Since you are all young , you can put the items in the car,” She walked around the car and sat in the passenger seat. Cici rolled his eyes again and quickly placed all the items in the back, he followed his roommate in the car and started the engine. 

Both sat in relative silence as the car drove past buildings and plazas. Heroes flew above them and crowds of people walked across the streets or chatted like everything was right in the world. A deplorable scene in Cici’s opinion. There should be some kind of chaos in the city today, maybe it’ll occur later on in the day. Who knows. 

“You never did tell us that you have a power.” Cici slowly brakes at the red light and looks at the pale lady. “Well… It never really came up. Plus, my power is insignificant compared to your power. You can turn anything into flour or dust, that’s cooler than mine.” He argued jokingly. Sun scoffed and looked at the blue-haired designer like he was spewing hero identities. “My point. You never said anything.” She repeats with a sterner tone and Cici sags his shoulders. 

It wasn’t just that he was embarrassed by his power, moreover, Radley and Aphrodite would find it hilarious with his shape-shifting power, but he never really had a need to use it. Sure, he used it when he felt like he was being followed but other than that, he never used it for much. (Besides pranking or getting an advantage for something). “Cici-” Sun warned, the light turned green, and Cici started the car forward. 

“It’s a shape-shifting ability. No, I haven’t gotten it tested completely, and no, I have not turned into anything like an animal. Only people. Never tested it further than people.” He explained as he flicked his blinker and moved into the next lane to reach the turn-a-bout. “You- I- You never got it tested properly?” Sun asked, her hands cupping her aide and resting it in her lap as Cici entered the round-a-bout. 

“Yeah. I mean- I had a test done when I was in high school but I never tested it any further. I only used it when I needed to get something or other. Like a discount for senior citizens.” Sun scoffed and as they exited out of the round-a-bout, Cici came to slowly stop at another red light. “Did you tell anyone else?”

Fairen knows. 

“Nope. I didn’t even tell the landlord or my boss. My power has no effect on my life in terms of work and home. I mean-” He hummed in faux thought as he drummed his hands on the wheel. “I could use it for work but I would have to go through an agency and all that drama .” He emphasized with a soft wail and the light turned green. “You are such a dramatic.” Sun commented as she closed her eyes and leaned into the chair. 

When they arrived, Sun got to making peach dumplings and after she finished making them, she platted a few and went to Cici to offer a few. They chatted about nothing for a few hours until the other three got home and demanded a pizza night. Later that night, Sun realized that she nor Cici mentioned the power discovery. Making her wonder if the others already know and she was just out of the loop. 

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It is really, really obvious when someone is in the shower. You can hear the water running and you can hear the music that is played in the shower to know who is in there. It’s very obvious. Radley knows this so when he went to the bathroom to use the toilet, he only heard Cici’s comically horrendous music and simply opened the door. His mouth was halfway open to tell the blueberry to move but when his auburn eyes reached up to meet the two different blue eyes, he found two things wrong with Cici; his right eye was a sunshine yellow rather than the aqua blue and he wasn’t standing there, but rather it was woman with Cici’s hair and face, with a towel barely covering the chest- 

“SHIT!” Radley never rattled a door so hard until now. His hand gripped tightly on the door handle as his face bloomed into a deep crimson. His heart thundered a thousand miles per second as the beating echoed in his ears, and the historian just stood there. Unable to move and much less, want to move because he could only imagine what Cici will do to him- wait- was that even Cici? 

It looked like Cici but the eyes and the body did not belong to Cici so- 

“Does he have a sister I don’t know about???” He asked out loud. His free hand scratched his head as his other hand tightly gripped on the handle, effectively trapping Cici in the bathroom. A muffled response answered him, “Well if you opened the door, I would be more than happy to answer.” Radley slowly turned to the door and quickly leaped away from the door and the handle as if it was a blazing rod of fire. 

The door opened and rather than seeing a woman standing, Cici was there with a towel over his lower half of the body and staring at Radley with an incredulous expression. Radley blinked with a smudged expression and looked at the blueberry designer and behind him, as if the woman was going to appear with clothes on. But there was no one. Just Cici standing in the bathroom with a towel and a face that was slowly splitting into a haunting smile, “Radley… Are you doing okay?” The historian turned to Cici and barked, “Where is the woman?? Where did she go?” Cici pressed his lips into a thin line as he covered his mouth with one hand to hold back laughter.

“What are you talking about Radley? It’s just me in here.” The brute grunted and quickly crossed the hallway to enter the bathroom, shoving the giggling designer to the sink and looking around the bathroom. “There was a woman- she was- there wasn’t a towel,” he paused as he turned to Cici who was holding himself up with one hand as the other gripped onto the towel, his whole frame shaking with suppressed laughter while the brute looked at the mirror in confusion. 

Cici was trying oh so hard not to burst into bouts of laughter and wheezing until he collapsed to the floor dying from the lack of oxygen in his lungs. He really didn’t expect Radley to just march into the bathroom and just open the door- he thought the five established that you  DO NOT open the door to the bathroom unless you knock. But maybe he only applied that to when the girls were in the bathroom. Ironic that Cici was playing around in the bathroom when Radley opened the door. 

He was just checking himself out in the mirror, looking for imperfections on his face, and he just shifted his male body to a feminine one. He often found this form to be very appealing to many people and he would admit- he looked pretty as a lady. And his hair was longer as a woman, even though his male form still had long hair. Cici was checking “herself” in the mirror (and being mindful not to touch the chest) and the towel was slightly slipping from his chest and when it was about to fall on the sink, Raldey opened the door. 

The designer believes that if Radley had stood there for a moment more, he would’ve screeched and slapped him like a woman should do. But the brute was a gentleman enough to slam the door closed and hold it in place long enough for Cici to revert back to his male form and wait for Radley to let go of the door handle. 

And now the brute was staring at him via the mirror and the dots were slowly connecting together. Cici looked up at the brute and waited for that perfect expression that showed the complete shock and then eventual rage of the historian when he realizes- “ARE YOU A WOMAN????” He shouts, Cic was suddenly grabbed by his shoulders and shook viciously as Radley roared at him. The brain in the designer was knocked around while the warm hands of the brute dried all the leftover water from the shower. Cici struggled to keep his grip on his towel as the brute shook him, the laughter peeled from his lips as his free hand smacked the brute’s chest to let him go (and before the towel fell down and someone saw him naked (not something he wants any of his roommates to see)). “Radley- let go!” He laughed as the brute stopped shaking him. 

He wheezed as the historian glared at him, but his eyebrows were raised and eyes crossed with confusion, the brute was staring at him as if he had two heads and it was making him mad. Cici inhales a gulp of air and wipes his eyes with his free hand, “My Spicy, you know how to cause a scene.” The auburn eyes flickered to a sheen of amusement but then returned to hardened volcanic rock, “Woman. You are a woman.” Cici shook his head, patting the taller’s shoulders as he gestured to his flat chest, “Not so, my dear barbarian. I can shift into a woman. Here-” The blueberry stepped toward the shower and slowly started to shapeshift into the femme body. 

Radley apparently did NOT want to see that because he made a yelp (a manly yelp); he slammed the door, grabbed whatever towel was next to him and wrapped it around the shoulders of the blue-haired designer. The blue eyes widened slightly as he became a she and was wrapped in an additional towel. The historian huffed softly as he raised his eyes up to look at her. Radley was staring at Cici but it was a… female version of him. 

She had the same hair of pale cerulean and with sky streaks running through the hair, she still held the same smirk the designer had, and she had the same two different blue-shaded eyes, and- wait. 

“Didn’t I see you with a yellow eye?” He asked, stepping back and pointing at the right eye that was now aquamarine. The female Cici blinked and tilted her- his… her head and shrugged, as if denying but not denying the question. Raldey pouts and takes a moment to better look at the femme version of his roommate, he stared with this expression that Cici couldn’t read, and he thought that maybe the brute’s brain was having a malfunction because he’s never seen a lady almost naked in front of him but at the same time, his face wasn’t displaying anything lustful or curious. It was… indifferent. 

“Could you always shift into a female version of yourself?” He asked. The brute’s coal black hair fizzed lightly and stuck to his neck from the warm steam in the room, making it look like small black snakes were on the neck of the historian. Cici blinked to pull himself from the stupor and he responded, “I have that ability.” He shifts himself back to a male and shrugs off the towel onto the sink to fold it up once he’s done (and if the brute leaves the bathroom). 

“But it is your superpower? I can’t imagine that it is just you shifting into a female version of yourself.” Radley comments and Cici huffs, he presses the palm of his hand on the center of the historian’s chest and pushed him against the door (Cici tries to not let the pink in his cheeks fluster him when he feels the hearth of a fire from the other’s chest warm his hand). “And if it is my superpower, am I less than you?” The taller one grunted at the question, as if it was a small problem becoming a nuisance to him. 

“I never said that. I was just wondering, you never did tell me what your power was?” Cici hums and pulls his hand back to adjust the towel over his lower half. He mocks with a playful tone, “And did you assume that I was powerless?” Many would assume that Cici was powerless, he didn’t carry an aide or have some unnatural feature of himself that warranted him to enroll into the Hero’s Command Academy. Beyond just two different colored eyes, Cici didn’t look like he had something interesting about him. 

And he sort of prefers it that way. Makes surprises like this more enjoyable and more fond for him to revisit and tease the other about when he wants. 

Although, Radley doesn’t seem to think the same. “How come you didn’t say anything?” The designer scoffs and turns to his clothes and grabs his underwear, “Well- there wasn’t a space for me to reveal the grandness of my power. Plus, it's not like your power which is to make sacrifices to Aztec gods.” Radley opens his mouth to retort then spins around, back facing Cici when he sees what he tries to do. Ccii mutters a thanks and drops the towel to properly get dressed. 

“You still could’ve said something about your power,” the taller man adds under his breath, “I thought you were powerless.” Cici hums, catching the muttered words, and responds with a little higher pitch, “Not quite my friend of spice knowledge. I have the power to shapeshift into any age. Meaning I could change myself to a small child, an old man, or a lady of regal manner. Although, I can’t impersonate anyone because my body reflects me . So like you said, I turned myself into a female version of myself.” Radley hums at the door and turns his head slightly to look over at the blueberry, “When did you get that tested?”

Cici slips his head through the hole of his sweatshirt and comments as he smoothes over the fabric, “Never got properly tested. Never a need.” When someone is “tested”, it refers to them arriving at a testing center to be checked for their power level, their capabilities, and moreover, understand what they could do in society. To Cici’s knowledge, there were three main groups; power-filled (meaning that you had a power of some kind that would or could contribute to society), powerless (those with no to little powers), and Destructive (which is a power that could and will be dangerous for the world to have). 

Sal, Aphrodite, Sun and Radley are all classified as “Destructive” because their power was tested at an extreme level and that required them to enroll into a program to be evaluated in a different testing facility and that’s where many Desctructives get their aides. Cici has been told by many adults in his life to go get tested for his power but he already knows that he would be placed as a “Powerless” for only the fact that he can shift himself into any age or gender but the caveat is that he looks the same in his normal form. 

Same different color eyes, same hair, same voice (roughly), and it would be very easy to point him out in a crowd if he was a Hero or spy. He would be very easy to take out. Cici folds up the towel Radley flung at his face and folded his own, tapping the historian’s shoulder- both stepped out the bathroom. “Does this mean you can get pregnant if you're a woman?” Radley asked and Cici stopped walking. He looked at the brute with a confused face and the other raised his hands in a mock surrender. “Just asking!” Cici sighed and rolled his eyes as he walked to his bedroom, “I don’t want to even think about it. Much less test it anytime soon.” The idea that he could get pregnant made him shiver- it would not only be disturbing but an identity crisis! 

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“I still think the one dress with the frills and scallops looks better than this one.” Cici sighs loudly, loud enough for the few staff and the shoppers to look at him weirdly as Sal ducks his head into his hands, shaking it. “Aphrodite, did I not teach you well? The scallops and frills will make you look puffy. You have a feminine figure and it should be shown off- not puffy like a stuffed bra.” The curtain pulls back with Aphrodite wearing the dress that wrapped gently around her hips. “Yes but no,” She argued as she pointed at the neckline (or lack thereof) and then the slit on her side, “I love the v-neck but I don’t want this slit. I’m performing at a festival, not a strip club.” 

Sal sighed and dragged his hands over his face, looking very tired and very much wanting to leave this forbidden boutique full of dresses that are starting to look more appealing as nooses rather than fashionable clothing. Cici looked over to the Frenchman and pouted, “Why are you being so mean? Pinkie wants our advice.” Aphrodite pokes her head out from the curtain and says, “I asked for Sal , you just hopped in the car.” The blueberry stuck his tongue out but it was all out of affection. 

The plan was originally to look through one store for a simple outfit that would best capture the pinkette’s figure while she played her piece to an audience who only heard rumors about her great music played on strings. Sal was more than happy to provide his initial thoughts but Cici- being the designer and fashion expert of the five- very quickly shifted the focus of just a simple outfit to a dress that would not only capture the elegance of Aphrodite’s figure but also capture her beauty in her hands as they glide over the strings.

“You want people to be drawn to you, like a siren luring her from land to sea.” Cici had claimed when they reached the mall. And Sal made the mistake of agreeing. Four hours later, they were at their fifth store and surely made the staff very confused with how many dresses they were all going through. 

The previous four store employees were kind to offer their advice and tips for the pink woman but Cici took the mission personally. Sal wondered what would be the tipping point for the designer to make a dress for the pinkette himself. 

“How about this dress?” Cici pulls up an angelic hair white dress with a v-neckline and off the shoulder sleeves the would reach to the bend of the elbows, and while there was a slit it was covered by a flurry of ruffles that would surely mimic waves if the pinkette sat down with her legs crossed off to the side. The pinkette sighs and takes the dress, she presses the hangar to her chest and looks at it from the mirror and says, “Fine. After this, we get something to eat. I am starving .” She bemoaned as the curtain flew closed. Cici hums and rolls on the back of his feet, “Alright then. I’m going to put these up and see if they maybe have something similar to that dress but with sleek sleeves and just about to roll off the shoulder!”

Sal doesn’t even try to stop the designer before he springs away. The mute man shakes his head and leans back, face twitching with his left leg bouncing. He feels the gnaws of hungry scratch at his gut like a misbehaving cat, he would really like to eat but he wanted to prioritize the dress find of the musician. This concert was going to be one of the most important festivals of her life (her words, not Sal’s) and although the Frenchman doesn’t completely understand the music being played, he understands the importance of it. 

The curtain fell open and Sal looked up to see the dress. He blinked as he sat upright, mouth going slightly agape as Aphrdoite stepped out and did a little spin. The ruffles did spray out like waves, Sal would even argue that the off the shoulder sleeves were at perfect length and cut-off at the bent of the elbows. “How about this?” Sal stared and kept looking up and down the dress. He really, really likes this dress. It was pretty. The lighting of the dressing hall made a stark white outline of Aphrodite as she stood before the man. Her hand smoothed over the dress while tilting her head left and right, as if contemplating on purchasing the dress. 

It made Aphrodite seem like an angel wearing the dress, plus, with her hair- curled around her face and falling over her shoulders, it captured this image in Sal’s mind of a painting needing to be made. Aphrodite would make a great model in that dress. Sal is sure of it. She looks really, really pretty. 

“Earth to Sal? We alive or did hunger finally kick you?” The mute man shook his head and raised his hands up to gesture and make sentences. ‘*DRESS BEAUTIFUL. BUY MUST+++’ is what Sal could muster in a moment of fluster. He hoped that the pinkette couldn’t see his cheek burning a little darker as he continued to watch the musician spin and look at the dress from all angles. 

Aphrodite hummed as she tilted her head side-to-side. “I do like the neckline and the slit being full of ruffles is a smart idea. But…” She started, looking at the massage therapist with a grimace, “It’s… tight. Like- the middle is tight. Like a corset.” Her hands subconsciously rubbed her middle where the most pressure was building up. She watched Sal’s expression turn from awe to furrowed worry. His hands began to sign as he stood, his stance readied to catch her if she fainted. 

Honestly, if she wore this for a long period of time then she could see herself fainting. But if she only wore it for her performance then she could be okay, but does she want to risk that? “You think if I asked Cici super nicely, he’ll modify the bodice to be more breathable?” Sal nods and signs roughly, “He’ll do it just knowing it’s hurting you. Could there be a bigger size?” He thought that maybe she could have a different size, that could help her breathe and still capture her elegance. The pinkette snapped her head to glare at the garnet eyes of the other. “No Sal . There can not be a bigger or smaller size. This dress fits me perfectly. It’s- it’s just the middle that’s giving me problems.” Her face molded into a pout and the Frenchman turned his head away in embarrassment. *His right hand cured into a fist and made a circular motion on his chest as an apology. 

“It’s alright. I shouldn’t have snipped. I’m just getting hangry. You go find Blueberry and I’ll get this dress ready for purchase.” Sal nodded and as the pinkette slipped back into the dressing room, she looked at herself in the mirror one last time before slipping out of the dress. The dress really was pretty and it would work perfectly for her piece but that bodice was just putting too much tight pressure on her lower torso, it was tight and rather ill-fitting. The tight pressure reminded her of her youthful days when she wore a corset at school, trying to fit in with the slim crowd but she forgoed the corset when she had a medical emergency. 

Wearing anything that tight scared her away from wearing anymore corsets or tight-fitting outfits. This bodice was tight; cutting into her sternum, constricting her lungs, and worse of all, it was tightly wrapped above her hips- forcing the brace of the bodice to kneel and cut into the muscle above her hips. ‘Cici will hopefully lead a hand, he loved me too much to see me in pain. The pinkette slipped the dress back on the hangar and as she got her other clothes on, she could fast tapping of feet approaching the curtain stalls. ‘Someone must want to try something on,’ the woman mused curiously. 

Before she could step out of the dressing stall, the curtain flew open and then closed. Aphrodite gasped and stepped backward with her hand flying to her purse and the other to her chest. Her heart leaped to her throat as her hand wrapped firmly around the throat of her pepper spray. She felt her hair straighten up out of fright and before her hand could raise the pepper spray bottle, she realized it was Cici who was holding the curtain closed with a wild expression on his face. “ Cici, ” she hissed. The hand on her chest lowered to her hip as she leaned on her leg to glare at the blue-haired designer. “Christ on a mozzarella cheese stick! Don’t scare me like that! You almost…” She trailed off when she noticed the panicked look in Cici’s eyes. 

She then noticed how his hands and knees were shaking, his chest was rising up and down far too fast, and with his mouth slightly agape, the pinkette found concern. “Cici?” She asked gently. Her hands reached out and gently landed on the shoulders, which elicited a flinch from the designer. The pinkette pulled her hands back for a moment then resettled them on the designer. “Sit… sit down…” She tried to guide but the hands of the other smacked them away.

The pinkette stopped all movement and gave space to the other, her brows furrowed as she whispered softly, “It’s okay. You’re okay… just sit down. I won’t touch you- sit Cici. It’s okay.” She watched as the male stood there and then beeline for the bench. His hands curled into his sweater and he pulled his legs up to his chin. The body started to rock gently as his breathing became shorter and his exhales sounded more forced- as if he was trying to force his lungs to intake as much air as he demanded. Aphrodite set her purse down and kneeled to Cici’s level. 

She kept herself in the general eye sight of the other as he rocked. His mouth was peeled back with the softest of whines rumbling out his throat. His hands curled into fists as his eyes clamped shut to push the tears out from his eyes. The designer burrowed his head into his knees and made a strangled sound as he tightened his posture. The pinkette winced with worry as she scooted closer, she wanted to calm him down- really- she wasn’t sure what set him off but she wanted to stop it from hurting him. 

The pinkette looked around the small changing room, hoping to hear what could’ve set him off but luckily (or unluckily), she didn’t hear and she turned her attention back to the male. “Cici…” She whispered so softly. The blue-haired male shook his head as he stiffened. “Cici, just… just listen and try to relax.” She whispered. She pulled her phone from her pocket and turned to YouTube to hopefully pull the other out of the tremor he was going through. Her harp gently filled the small room and with each pluck of a string, the magic of her power took effect. 

Aphrodite likes to think that her power is a positive as much as it can be dangerous. If her intention is strong enough, she could make the world fall asleep but her intentions are to play music that lures anyone into a sense of calm. And at this moment, she needs Cici to fall into a calm state. As the harp played its tune, the muttering and string sentences were a little louder as the music started to possess the body to relax. “He was there.He was there.Why was he there?He was there-” were slipping from Cici’s lips like a gospel. 

The pinkette felt a spike of worry as she looked toward the curtain. Did someone try to hurt Cici? Or did Cici see someone who hurt him in the past? She frowned as she tilted her head, “Cici… Can you hear me?” She whispered. The blueberry man nodded his head, a jerky movement but movement of confirmation she needed. Aphrodite cooed softly, “Good. Good. You’re okay, you’re okay. No one is coming. It’s just me. Me and Sal are here.” She wasn’t sure where the silent “knight” was but she would greatly appreciate the purple man getting here quickly so she could have some help. 

Luckily, Sal heard her silent pleas and arrived. He slowly opened the curtain to peek in and when he saw Cici and Aphrodite, he closed the curtain and kneeled by the pinkette’s side and looked at her for directions. The pink woman turned to the lavender male and asked him with a soft whisper, “Did you see someone out there besides yourself and Cici?” Sal shrugged. The only other people in the store were the staff and a couple that walked in. Cici gagged and jumbled out, “He’s here. Why is he here ?Why is he here ?Why is he here ?Why is he here ?Why is he here ?” Repeated over and over out of his mouth while his eyes widened larger than saucer pans. 

Aphrodite hushed the blue male and turned up the volume of the phone. She turned to the knight and made a shoo-shoo motion, but it wasn’t out of disregard but a silent plea to inform the staff and be on the lookout for whoever caused such a reaction to Cici. The other nodded and quickly left the stall, he looked around the small white hall for a staff member and decided going to the front would be better than sticking around the curtain where his roommate’s cries wounded his soul.

Cici was trying, he was trying to slow his breathing. He needed to get out. He needed to leave this place. He needed to get back to his room and hide under the covers. But not the covers. He can’t stand the feeling of touch on his skin. He wants to take off his clothes and shapeshift into a small creature. A creature of nothing that is forgotten until someone calls for him. He needs to get away. The palms of his hands soaked his fingertips and left a puff of hot air trapped behind his hands as he curled them into his chest. The pressure against his chest made the consumption of air harder to inhale. 

He shouldn’t even be having this reaction to the sight of his ex. He was just cruising around the elegant dresses, holding up one dress that was more scalloped than the other dress with the frills and scallops- he thought about whether the pinkette would try one more dress but his stomach lurched to remind him that he hadn’t eaten anything either. The fact that he had so much energy was a surprise to even him. The chime of a bell pulled himself away from a small spiral of thoughts to eat whatever the food court of the mall could offer, he looked over to see who could have entered. 

He was not expecting to see his ex of five years entering the brightly lit boutique with his argentine and albyn hair pulled up into a ponytail and wearing that damned silver coat Cici had made for the lover. The man whose glass-stained wings were most likely tucked away under the coat or under the shirt that the Hero was wearing. Cici felt the fabric in his hands fall away, the small lurch of his hungry stomach turned into something harsher; he felt a warm heat fall over his cheeks and chills rushed down his spine, his gut kicked and howled as his breathing turned ragged. 

He stepped away from the dresses and made a sharp beeline to the dressing rooms. He needed a space to decompress, to hide away and curl into a ball of nothing. To force the emotions of anguish out of his system before he does something he’ll regret later in his life. He rushed into the dressing hall and zoomed past the other stalls, going for the only one he knows the occupant. He retched the curtain open and quickly closed it. His knees were weak. His head was growing light. 

The pinkette was saying something but it's all buzzed, her mouth moves but all he hears is static. His chest hurts with aches as he feels his hands shake with a tremor of anxiety, he wants to close his eyes- close them and keep them closed so he can visualize himself alone and small. Small and alone. The clothes he wears are touching him, they keep touching him and he needs to rip them off. There is a sudden pressure on his shoulders and he bats them away. 

Skin touches skin and he hisses. He can’t be touched. He needs to sit and rock, rock himself to break away the uncomfortable folds of his clothes. He sees the bench and goes to sit; curling his hands in his sweater to give his neck space to breathe while pulling his knees up to curl his body tightly into a smaller form, he tries to inhale but it only gags and he feels his throat close up. ‘Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod,’ that’s all he thinks while trying to kick his limbs out of place to move. He needs to pace and move to get his brain functioning again. 

He can’t go out there and face the man who broke him. Cici will never admit how the silver hero broke him and made the next few years of his life a void of loss and broken trust. Cici needed comfort and love, not a broken heart with a desire now lost on him. There was no reason for him to live life to the fullest when he couldn’t share it with someone. He once shared it with his brother, then a lover, but back then- everything was falling apart. The hands unfurl from his chest and tightly grip onto his shoulders, his face is buried into his knees and he whines softly, tears rolling down the apple of his cheeks as he hoarsely inhales a stutter.

He needs to stop crying. If he keeps crying then Aphdorite will see him and then Sal will try to get his attention. But he doesn't want to be touched, he needs to be untouched until he feels his soul return to his body. He wants to be alone. He doesn’t want to hear or see the staff hover around him as they try to get him to calm down. Gods, he doesn’t need to hear the voice of Farien call out to him and break him out of the spell of panic. The bastard knows him too well- he knows how to get Cici to calm down and even if five years have separated them, the sterling knows exactly what to do to get him out of his panic. He softly cries with his teeth digging into his bottom lip.

He needs to keep the sounds to himself. To hold them back because if he cries, he’ll come. 

He’ll offer to help calm him down. 

And that’s a touch he doesn’t want to feel. 

Just the mere idea of the sensation of the sterling and glass bastard pulling him into a hug that he does need makes his skin get tight and chills brush over him with the warmth migrating from his cheeks to his head. Surely, he’ll faint at this point. 

In lue of his internal spiral and gasping lungs, a stroke of strings snap his attention to the sounds around him. He doesn't hear staff or Aphrodite trying to talk to him. He only hears chords and strings of a harp playing a lullaby, a twinge of harp strings echoing in his ears as he focuses his darkening vision on the source of where the music is played. 

He sees the cherry blossom pink phone case strumming a tune while the musician stays kneeling next to him, keeping her eyes on him as he focuses more on the harp being played. Rather than the darkening vision capturing him in a muddy mist of panic, he feels more tired with the music soothing over his hyperactive nerves like a wave smoothing out the sand full of rough stones. The blue eyes blinked away the stray tears as they gathered in the corner of his eyes. He sniffled and watched the phone play a song he didn't know, but it was enough for him to be pulled out of the anguish of his spiraling mind. 

He sniffles and lets the hot air in his hands puff into the cold air, the hands shakily wipe his cheeks as he sniffles. “There we go… I was wondering where you went.” The blue-haired male turned to the pinkette who smiled so softly at him. Her strawberry quartz eyes were creased like a crescent moon while her hands slowly snake up to take his hands. He grips to her fingers, his clammy fingers rub over her cool hands- breaking the heated sensation from his face as he refocuses his attention on her. 

He sees the woman standing, her hands go to pull him up and he quickly latches his arms around her. Her hugs are different from Fairen’s; she’s softer with her approach, she doesn’t secure herself around him, all she does is hug him and her form is so light that it perfectly wraps around his warmed frame. He melts into the hug and feels the spiral and fright go down and soon, he’s just leaning on the pinkette for comfort. The curtain sings open and Sal stands there- his face morphs to one of relief and he signs something about food. 

Cici pulls away (unwilling) and wipes his face. “Sal has food,” he mumbles and Aphrodite frowns as she cups the other’s cheeks. “Do you feel okay walking out?” The dress forgotten and her roommate becoming more of a priority, she steers her worries to the other as he inhales a big breath and shakes his head with his exhale. “He’s out there and if he sees me… I don’t- I can’t face him and whoever he…” He feels his face warm up and tears ready to spill again. 

Luckily, Sal saw the resurgence of tears and came over to Cici. He pulls the pinkette to his left and places Cici behind him, a silent order for the blue male to stay behind the mute Frenchman while the pinkette shielded him from the unwanted eyes of the ex. Cici almost voiced his concern but just feeling the pinkette take his hand and squeeze it gently, all he does is nod. Exiting out of the store was the easy part, the two roommates kept an eye out for the potential lurker who caused their joyous roommate to fall into a panicked spiral. 

Cici keeps his head down and when they are closer to the exit, he takes the risk and looks around. His heart stops in his throat when he sees his ex chatting with a woman whose hair is as dark as the night sky, holding a midnight blue dress. He’s smiling, his face split with happiness shining through his sunken and tired eyes. Those pale lavender eyes pull away from the lady lover and meet with two different shaded sapphire eyes- the lavender and sapphire meet for a moment then the blues tear away as he exits out of the shop with two others in tow. 

Fairen feels his skin crawl as chills rumble down his spine. His eyes blink and when he watches the trio walk away, his feet want to carry him after the blue ex. He… he hadn’t seen Cici out in public, only in the apartment. But his eyes were slightly red, his posture was hunched, and based on the position he was placed between the two- it seemed like they were shielding him from being seen. Did he get hurt? Did he see someone that made him panic? 

Did Cici see him when he entered the shop? Is that why he looks so upset?

“Fairen, what do you think?” Luna asked, turning her head to the other hero. She found him looking out the window with a furrowed brow. Luna turned her head and missed the blue blur of her fellow hero’s ex. “Did you see someone?” She asked, turning back to the other. Fairen opened his mouth, hesitating, and then said softly, “Yeah… Yeah. I thought I saw someone who… I hadn’t seen in awhile.” Luna tilts her head. Watching the usually quiet and sometimes stoic winged hero be punched out full of emotion, she sees that far away look in his eyes- it tells her that whoever left the store was more . 

“From the way you look, it's like you saw an old crush or something.” She comments as she turns back to the dress she was previously looking at. Fairen shrugs his shoulders and tears his eyes away, “Yeah… Something like that.”

Chapter Text

The ground shook with the fire blowing from the sparklers in the hero’s mouth as they blew fire  at the golden orbs which shot out blazes of stone-turning eyes. The air boomed with the earth wailing at the sheer power of the villain blowing the enemy across the short expanse of the sky. Not too far behind the hero, an archer rears his holy earthly bow and shoots triples of clover-kissed arrows at the eyes to pop them like balloons blowing up in the air. 

The Reddish-Green Dragon Hero roared, wings flaring out as they charged at the stand still villain whose golden armor head was turned and watched the green archer hero destroy one eye after another, only retreating backwards to avoid their previous competition’s air strike. The Ivory Dragon barely reacts to the tempered hero but their sharp eyes watch every move that the green hero strikes, their attention more absorbed with Four-Leaf Clover. 

The levitating dragon dodges a strike from the hero and nearly misses the stray green arrow laced with senadive powder. The vicious dragon hero continues their air strike, blowing fire from their cracked lips as a dribble of blood drips from their ruby armor crown. The Ivory Dragon had earlier bashed their brethren into a building that would have killed thousands had Lady Moon and Four-Leaf Clover not swept in and saved everyone before the worst came. Queen Frost covered the plaza in a thick coat of ice to protect the injured people as the archer zoomed into battle to aid the fuming red and green hero. 

It’s not uncommon for the villains to go after smaller populated areas of the city- mostly because it's well aware that there is little to no resistance to the villains if they swoop in to steal something. But when someone as dangerous and deadly as the Ivory Dragon is hovering over a building holding offices and maybe the hideout location of Lady Moon , it’s not a surprise that they attack the building to get the hero out. 

The Reddish-Green Dragon was the closest to call in and they were more than happy to try and pummel their sibling. It’s no secret that the Ivory Dragon and the Reddish-Green Dragon were siblings and the ivory white dragon once had domain over the Dragon Clan which was an organization that desired to level out the heroes and return the land back to the ages when dragon humans once roamed the world but that time has long passed. Now there were two dragons on the Heroes side and the Ivory Dragon only had two on their side. 

It was a battle to witness. Scales or scattered orbs from the fight between the Ivory Dragon and the Reddish-Green Dragon sold for thousands to millions on the internet. But those sales would be capped and anyone who sold those items were jailed or given community service (depending on how much the item was sold for or if they lied to the authorities). It became a black market item to have any scales from the Ivory Dragon or the Reddish-Green Dragon. Scales that are molded into armor or weapons that can cause more casualties than the pale villain themself in an hour.

Yeah. Pretty dangerous. 

Four-Leaf Clover pulled his bow back and aimed for a cloud of stone-turning eyes, but he sensed something from behind. Ducking and puffing into miniature clovers that flutter into the wind before reforming back to his hero form, the jade green eyes met with narrowed gray slits. The Reddish-Green Dragon had been flung and smacked face-fist into the freeway. Colliding with hundreds of cars that were long evacuated. The Dragon Hero pulled themself from the rubble and roared a charge, the warnings from Command falling on deaf ears as they reared their armored crown at their sibling who continued to play a lax game of cat-and-mouse with the clover hero. 

Why was the Ivory Dragon was so interested in the green hero? No one is quite sure. For now, most watching from the TV or phone would assume it’s just a game with no meaning. But for Command, it meant that the dragon villain was trying to grab a hostage- making it crucial that they get Four-Leaf Clover out of there. Or at least get distance between him and the Ivory Dragon so someone can tag in.

Meanwhile, Cici watched with the most bored expression of his life. 

He and his other two occupants were sitting in his Kia Soul and watching the fight unfold in front of them. The blue-haired roommate blinked slowly while registering the silent foaming brute behind him, the different shaded blue eyes flick up to the rearview mirror and sees the feral joy in Radley’s eyes as he watches the Ivory Dragon hunt after Four-Leaf Clover with little to no sweat on their brow. 

The driver sighs as he closes his eyes, trying to push away the small pings of impatience from his mind, and he asks the brute in a gentle tone, “Do you mind not getting a boner from the Hero fight?”

A sharp smack hits his shoulders and the driver looks over to the other occupant. Sun resettled her hands on her knitting needles as she commented, “Stop being so vulgar. And Radley, stop drooling.” Cici snapped his eyes to the mirror again and swung his body around to smack the charcoal-haired historian, shouting something along the lines of “You’re drooling!?” and “What are you? A dog?!”

Sun sighed internally as she refocused her attention on the knitting needles. She was finishing up the scallops on the newest shawl for Aphrodite- the pale woman thought the pinkette needed something that would cover her torso, and not walk around wearing a tattered jacket that was ready to fall at the last seams. Plus, this shawl was the last shawl she’ll knit for some time. She already made one for Sal (a gentle lavender with periwinkle scallops), one for Radley (a dark auburn with ashy scallops), one for herself (which was just plain egg white with dumpling gray scallops), and she finished Cici’s shawl about a month ago (a cerulean blue with sapphire scallops). 

Aphrodite’s was a watermelon-pink with flamingo scallops. Two colors that would normally bore the knitter but she had to admit, the pink was growing on her. Maybe she’ll knit a shawl with cherry pink flowers dotting the pale lining. The car rumbled with a shake of the dragon hero being flung into the ocean, the shake caused the people who were still in their cars, along with the trio, covered their head or screamed. Wailing like a loveless maiden or a whining child who was told no to candy. Either one, it was a shriek that annoyed the pale woman. 

“Stop- gods Radley! Get your own car to drool on!” Cici snipped as he returned to his seat, crossing his arms with a tick. Sun glanced out her peripheral vision and called, “Have you ceased your inane tactics?” Both males slouched against their seats and the pale woman nodded. 

The three stay in the car, letting it rock and bump with each swing or bash of the heroes’ and villain’s attack. There was always traffic when there was a fight. The three thought they could beat the traffic before the fight got over the freeway bridge, but, the chances are zilch to none when the fight involves the Dragons. 

Long ago, the Dragon Clan was actually a good group of heroes with dragon abilities, it changed into a clan of power-hungry beings and Ivory Dragon was the leader of that revolution- believing that the laws that held the Dragon Clan back should be dismantled and everything should return to the era where Dragon/dragon-like people once ruled. But when the Ivory Dragon was in a deep sleep, the Dragon Clan was dismantled minus the siblings taking different occupations to keep themselves from getting trouble with the Heroes Command.  

Now Ivory Dragon has reawakened, there is a fight almost every two weeks between the Ivory Dragon and their sibling who joined the Heroes Command after being soundly beaten to the ground by said older sibling. It’s not a secret that the Five Dragons are siblings, it’s been announced all over the city and maybe the world that the Five Dragons are related. 

And while the Heroes Command did try to make peace with Ivory Dragon, there was a casualty that sealed their fate to be locked up in a secured prison for the rest of time. Cici vividly remembers that day, though, he would rather see the Ivory Dragon dead- get it over with and there would be no problem anymore. But of course , Heroes need to be above murder. Being confined into an isolated space is anyone’s worst nightmare. 

The car rocked again and the people around them screamed as they ducked again. But none of the three moved. They had no real fear to be afraid that they would get hurt, all three of them were more than capable to take care of themselves and each other if the time needed it for help. Radley would easily be able to grab both of them before the car went under into the water, Cici would very quickly yank both of the roommates out of the car and help them dive into the water, and Sun would naturally have them floating on her lotus flower which would be provided by her aid (when she told the others that her aid could become a massive floating flower, they were very keen on seeing it). 

The three were more than capable of surviving if the bridge was to go under. And for now, the bridge was stable and under the supervision of the Heroes Command, just to make sure that everything is safe when the Ivory Dragon inevitably decides to try and cause a distraction. And through that distraction, there would be casualties if the Heroes Command is not careful. Cici watches as the green hero continues to push his body into the wind by turning himself into four leaf clovers and reforming to his body to try and shoot an arrow at the Ivory Dragon. 

Four-Leaf Clover was an older hero who seemed to be stubbornly loyal to the Great Tree, a Hero who long retired from the game but still trains new heroes to help them achieve their goals. Once upon a time, Cici wanted to be a hero but he saw… 

He lost that starlight hope of becoming a hero. Plus, with how much attention the heroes get (good and bad), he knows himself personally that he would not be able to keep up with the waves of media and criticism, nor would be able to keep up with all the strict and tightening guidelines the law makes for Heroes. 

Especially with word about more restrictive laws being placed on people with Destructive powers… There was a lot of turmoil that would only push Cici to the “dark side”, if you will. More laws prohibiting Destructive to pursue certain jobs or get paid a certain amount in an authority job. Most Destructives were banned from entering into the police or firefighter forces. The Heroes Command and the government claim that it would be “too dangerous” for a Destructive to carry out the duties of a police officer. 

Cici turns his eyes to the rearview mirror and breaks the silence, “If you could fight a villain and hero, who would it be and why?” Radley snorts as he uncrosses his arms to drum his fingers on the seat. Sun pauses on her tenth scallop and answers without hesitation, “I would fight Sea Wave and the Enchantress.” Radley raises an eyebrow and asks with a mildly confused tone, “Why Sea Wave? She’s like- the nicest of the Heroes Command. Alongside Lotus Dragon and Great Tree.”

Sun hums with a shrug, “I don’t think she’s very interested in talking with people. She’s always pushing people away, and even if a child comes up to her, she’ll just be stoic and not react to the person.” Radley snorts, “Sounds like you met her and it got personal.” Sun scoffs and finishes another scallop. (Not denying or admitting that the “feud” against the watery hero was personal or not). Cici chuckles, “What about you?” Radley scoffs and boasts a proud smile, “I can take on that imbecile Fire Spirit and maybe Golden-Earth Dragon.” 

Sun scoffs as she finally turns to look at the third roommate, “You’re joking? You? Take on a Dragon? Please.” Cici tuts as he points out while watching Radley’s face turn red, “He could hypothetically take on a Dragon. I mean, I can see him punching the living shit out of the Reddish-Pink Dragon but the Golden Earth Dragon? Eh… Maybe with more time.”

Radley narrowed his eyes at the driver and snarked, “What about you ? Who would you fight?” Cici blinked slowly and as he was about to speak, his phone rang (saving him), but he would have rather answered the question than answer this call from Aphrodite. He answers the call too quickly, clipping his phone onto his car’s magnet on the dash, “Hey Aphro-”

“WHHY THE FUCK ARE YOU ARE YOU GUYS ON THE BRIDGE WITH A HERO FIGHT LITERALLY FOUR FEET FROM YOU?!” All three occupants flinched and covered their ears. The pinkette’s face was smushed against the screen with her beautiful face getting redder by the second. “For the love of Quetzalcoatl, do you MIND !?” Radley snarled as he lunged forward to shove his face into the phone’s camera. “ OH ?! Excuse ME ! I thought I would check on you guys since I got an ALERT SAYING TO CLEAR THE BRIDGE FOR IMMINENT DANGER!” The three looked at one another and looked around. 

Sure enough. They were the only ones still in their car.

And the fight was a little closer.

“Huh, well would you look at that.” Cici commented as he squinted and leaned forward. Maybe he could see the face of the Ivory Dragon. Most media depictions would show their face covered so maybe he could see the face, Sun sets her knitting needles down as she focuses her attention on the pinkette who is redder than Radley’s spices. “We’re going to be fine, Aphrodite. It’s not the first time Cici or I have been trapped in traffic. Besides, if there is surveillance on the bridge, then we are safe.” Cici also adds, “And we can get ourselves out of here if it really comes to us needing to dip.”

That seemed like the incorrect response because the next minute, the pinkette was raging at them for being so “iditoic” and her volume was getting dangerously loud so Sun quickly ended the call and gave the boys a moment to regain their hearing. “I love her to death but gods , she can really do damage.” Radley whines as he rubs his ears with his palms. Sun was blinking rapidly while speaking slightly louder than her usual monotone voice, “You can’t blame her for the power she was given. And I don’t think she had her aid with her to stop her voice crescendoing.” 

The phone rang again and all three covered their ears while answering the call. Luckily, Sal dialed and in the background, Aphrodite had her face buried in a pillow while her knees propped up and it was obvious she was screaming because they could see her hands gripping onto her miniature harp aide tightly. ‘* SAFE ALL?’ Sal asked while tilting his head with a furrowed brow. Sun dropped her hands and nodded, “Yes, we’re safe. Aphrodite was fretting over nothing.”

The musician snapped her head back and yelled, “ FRETTING OVER NOTHING-” Luckily, Sal muted on his end and turned to her. The trio watched as he signed something to her with one hand and her face was reburied back into the pillow while her hands gripped tighter on her harp. ‘* ALARM LOUD, C-I-C-I DRIVE OVER BRIDGE TO-GO WORK, FORGIVE HER.’ Sal gestured, his face shifting through the signs while holding the phone with one hand. (Signing with one hand is NOT easy). 

“We didn’t get an alert,” Radley comments and Sun pulls her phone as the historian does the same. Their screens flashed with YouTube notifications or text messages from co-workers, but nothing from the city or the Heroes Command itself. “Maybe they did the thing they did last year?” Cici pondered. 

The interpreter hums but the brute grunts in question. “Last year?” Cici begins, turning his head to partially see Radley while also keeping his face seen by Sal, “They enacted a new alert system that would alert nearby places if there was a fight occurring in the area. But it wouldn’t alert the people in the area because the Officials thought it would be better to inform the outside and not freak out the people on the inside. Less traffic. And less casualties via stampedes. But the downside is that if there are people inside a space that’s about to collapse or get decimated, thus not getting an alert- then they are as good as dead.” 

Radley utters a soft “huh” and looks back to the camera. “So what- are we actually in danger or is this just something that they are working out the kinks on?” Sal shakes his head as Cici shrugs, “We just have to wait it out until the traffic clears, they always have traffic stop crews come out when the fight starts to become less potent.” Sal grunts and before he signs, Aphrodite spoke from behind, “I would rather you just evacuate.” 

Cici rolls his eyes for the umpteenth time and waves at the two roommates on the other side of the phone, “If you could fight a hero and a villain, who would you fight?” Sal perks up and fingerspells a name that blows over Radley’s head, the brute squints and asks, “What the fuck was that?” Sun sighs, and replies for Sal, “He fingerspelled the name “Queen Frost” and “The Enchantress”. Although,” she turns to the phone, “I thought Sal would rather fight Golden Earth Dragon for the villian.”

Sal shrugs, his single hand signing but the context of the sentence is lost on the three roommates because of the wobbling hand holding the phone. Sun and Cici catch bits of the one hand signing but it’s mostly lost. “Sal- Sal- can’t understand you with one hand. Set us down somewhere.” The knight pauses, looking around, and he sets the phone down finally on the coffee table where Cici can see Aphrodite fully and Sal sits next to her. “How about you, Aphrodite?” Sun queries. 

The pinkette pulls her face away from her heart-shaped throw pillow and leans back- resting her head on Sal’s lap, thinking about it, her face pouting slightly while tipping her head back and forth. Radley watches her and snorts, “8th grade.” The roommates look at him and Radley repeats, “8th grade. Mr. Fletching class for a field trip to the Museum of Heroes and Historical Artifacts.” Aphrodite’s face was puzzled. Radley sighed loudly and got closer, leaning on the backs of the driver’s and passenger’s seat, he whispered, “New exhibit.” 

Like a firework, Aphrodite drove right up, clapped her hands, and screeched, “THAT BITCH!” Then bursted out into a fume of curses, while Radley rolled his eyes and leaned back. Sal and the other two stared at Aphrodite then looked at Radley as the pinkette continued to curse out someone- their name lost in the cursing. “Fill us in.” Sun demanded as she picked up her knitting needles (a silent threat to stab the historian if he didn’t explain quick enough). Raldey snorts, “8th grade, back in private school, we take a trip to the museum. Aphrodite had like- a “crush” on a hero,” he jests with air quotes.

Aphrodite was still cursing. 

“So, our teacher informed us that the hero Aphrodite had a crush on was going to be at the gallery and she wanted to give her a love letter.” Cici coos at the thought, Sal grunts with a puzzled look on his face while Sun hums, following along and imagining a smaller pink girl with a big grin and rosy cheeks as she clutches a letter with half-unreadable words on the page. 

“So, we go through the whole museum and Aphrodite is just unable to sit still. I swear- I had to hold her back when we saw the gallery on the third floor.” Radley continues gesturing to Aphrodite, “So we go through the place and finally, the new exhibit is about to open. Picture a small Aphrodite with a messily folded piece of paper and giggling with excitement as she’s about to meet her crush.” The image is vivid. Seeing a small girl with big pink curls, innocent eyes, and clammy hands that are ready to rip the love confession to shreds out of anticipation. 

“And then the gallery opens to a midnight sky with the hero sitting on the moon-”

Sun immediately looks at the phone at the same time Cici says, “Oh no.”

“Lady Moon does her thing and when she comes down to greet everyone. Aphrodite goes last. Everyone goes to chat with the hero, and after, little Pinkie walks up to Lady Moon and hands the paper to the hero. Explaining how she had a dangerous power like Lady Moon but she promised that she was going to use it for good. And that she was in love with her, blah, blah, blah.” Radley scoffs while his eyes narrowed at the phone but not at the two roommates on the other end. 

Sal, Sun, and Cici all collectively think, ‘Oh noooooo .’

“And what does the Hero of the Moon say?” He rolls his wrist to point at Aphrodite who finally takes a breath and says in a sickly whiney voice, “Oh honey, you can never be a hero with a destructive power.”

There it was.

The clapping oppressor that made any child’s dream into nothing. 

Radley sighs, full of faux empathy but it carries a hint of aggression, “Aphrodite looked so pale. Lady Moon patted her head, handed the letter to some agent who cumbled it up and threw it away. As if that wouldn’t break her further.” The pink-curled musician falls back bonelessly back on Sal’s lap as she says, “I went home , sobbing, my parents thought I had gotten hurt or something. But when I told them about the museum, they just said, “That’s how Heroes think”. Which only made it worse.” Radley scoffs as he crosses his arms, “For a year, a year , if anyone mentioned Lady Moon- she would break out balling and sobbing. Breaking many eardrums or making people go deaf temporarily.”

Cici cringes with a coo in sympathy, he’s experienced something similar but… At least it wasn’t as present in his mind as the memory for Aphrodite was. “Since then, whenever she is mentioned- my child-self would cry and I would be angry.” Kicking her left leg up with her foot pointed straight as if it was her hand emphasizing her point, she dramatically adds, “Rightfully so.” She slumps further into Sal’s lap with a pout on her lips. Sal holds his hands up and slowly rests them on the pinkette’s head, combing through her hair which seemed to soothe her. Sun blinks and rotates herself to better face the camera, “Poor thing. What about villains?”

The pinkette took a moment to respond, she then had this look on her face as if she remembered something odd. She scooted up to sit properly on the sofa and draped her arms over Sal’s shoulders, chiming with a thoughtful tone. “I remember my parents telling me about a blue villain that was a thorn in anyone's side. They loved the theatrics; making puns mid-battle, staging a robbery, or just kidnapping someone to have tea with. They never harmed anyone, to my knowledge.” 

The pinkette continues as she starts to climb on Sal, effectively telling him to lay down so she could nap, “Never got the name but “supposedly”, they were also a musician. I wouldn’t “fight” them per say, but I would definitely challenge them to a music battle.” Sun scoffs, her apathetic facade breaking for a moment as she scoffs with a smile. “What’s their name?” She asks.

No one sees how Cici tenses up slightly when Aphrodite mentions the actions of the unknown being  

The pinkette shrugs and comments that she never got the name. Only that they were one for theatrics and they were once a vigilante. Sun hums as she looks back on the shawl, reflecting on the subject. Vigilantes are typically regarded as a “third-party” who serve the public or a different group from the greed of the villains or the prevail of peace by the heroes. Sun personally knows that her family had once served as vigilantes for her home village long ago, when the heroes weren’t as popular in her village but when heroes became more popular and common to see, the work of her family’s vigilantes were finished. 

But in a city like this? Where villains can attack at any moment or a hero can turn on the Heroes Command in a blink- it’s uncharted water that breaches a level of trust within the people of the city. Sun recalls watching the news of the Ivory Dragon’s awakening; how they conjured a storm that could drown a continent, how the storms thundered and dared to break the earth into a hellscape of flames. Many people in the nearby areas were evacuated and sheltered in bunkers. There was fear that gripped the whole world because the Ivory Dragon’s awakening rumbled the earth to her core. 

But their power was a show. 

They would not endanger the earth nor the natives of the land. If they knew that you were a native to an island under the original Dragon Clan’s control, then you were spared. 

Otherwise, you’ll be erased within a blink of an eye. 

If Sun recalls correctly, there was a vigilante on the scene where the Ivory Dragon fought the main heroes. The vigilante’s name is lost on her but supposedly, he was struck by Ivory Dragon and he was near death when the fight was called off. Since then, the dragon of stone would carefully plan their attacks on the heroes. (Perhaps the vigilante that died at the scene was the same one that Aphrodite was referring to?)

Whether for the amusement of seeing the heroes struggle or understanding what they did to the vigilante- who was evacuating people from the battlefield and was left injured and clinging to life- they wanted to have a better plan of attack. Sun would never admit to anyone (maybe to her roommates) but she did relate the goals of the Ivory Dragon, she would be lying if she said that she didn’t think their goals were true to those who understand. 

“Earth to Sun, you here?” Sun snaps her eyes to the males beside her, then she catches a fury of colors passing by, and then, she sees crowds of people. There were mostly civilians but along the outside lanes were police and traffic patrol helping people get back to the road. “We’re heading back, say bye for now.” Cici instructs as he pulls the car out of park and slowly starts to roll the car forward. Sun mutters a half-attempted goodbye to the other two roommates and leans back in the seat, feeling the soft rumble of the car move forward. She turns to Cici and comments, “You never answered the question.” Cici blinks back, slightly confused. Radley snaps into attention and grabs the back of Cici’s seat, shaking it slightly. 

“OH YEAH! Who would you fight?” Sun watched the facial muscle of the driver flinch, then drop, a look of unease, and then a placid smile. “I would fight Four-Leaf Clover and Lord Faerie.” Radley rolls his eyes and falls back. “That’s so simple. AND you already know the identity of one of them . Not fair.” Cici scoffs, a glint of amusement twinkles in his eyes, “That’s why you will never be able to take on Golden-Earth Dragon. You underestimate them too much. That's why they can whoop your ass faster than Reddish-Green Dragon blowing smoke.”

The rest of the way home was Radley loudly cursing at Cici in a language that Sun would suggest he made up. 

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He looks up from his papers as Archer enters the office, his left arm bandaged from the shoulder to the bend of his elbow. Millie clicks his tongue as he stands, ready to heal, but the hero steps back, “I disobeyed your orders.” He stated simply. Millie pauses- studying the down-turned expression of the second-in-command hero, and he sighs, patting the younger hero’s shoulder and pulling him into a hug, “I’m just relieved that you are safe.” The head of the heroes comments softly. 

He thought he was going to have a heart attack when one of the stone eyes got too close to Archer but luckily, Pono was right behind Ivory Dragon to distract them, giving the green hero a moment to flee and get tagged out by Queen Frost and Sea Wave. The two stand in the office for a moment longer and pull away, “Go downstairs and get checked up by Freya’s assistant. I’m sure Clara can fix that up for you.” Archer nods and leaves without much argument. Millie stands there for a moment, watching the door close, and begins to step backward, continuing to fall back until his backside hits his desk.

He braces against it as he inhales slowly, his amber eyes watering as he lowers his head. He refuses to tell Archer how desperately close he was to certain death. Millie had seen the same thing play out one time; when Ivory had broken free, the world was crowded with fear, when the heroes fought tooth and nail to drive the stone dragon back, and some thought it was a success when the dragon backed off. 

But there was a causality that was never meant to happen. 

He wasn’t supposed to get caught in the crossfire, yet, he did and it ended in the hospital after three long hours trying to keep him alive. Millie wondered how his kids were doing… If they even know that their father had died trying to protect them. 

Millie sighs and cups his hands over his eyes, letting the tears drip into the palms of his hands. He should go talk with Mary… Ask her about any updates. Maybe he should check on them, see if they checked into the hospital at some point. Flashes of two pairs of yellow-and-blue heterochromia eyes dance over his mind and stare so blankly while wisps of golden blonde and baby blue locks flash over his vision. He should check on them. He needs to know that they are safe. 

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Ivis grunts as Apollo tightens the bandages on their torso. “Sorry,” the golden dragon mutters as they step back. Ivis grunts again and rolls his neck, this battle was… interesting. Observing one of the grander heroes since their awakening was needed but at the same time, it was rather disappointing. 

The green archer is swift but he relies too much on the wind and the dodges, and Pono… The moron. They rely too much on their strength. The silver dragon stands slowly, regaining his power over the eyes, looking for any disturbances in his office- beyond the two dragons by his side. “Did we get what we wanted?” They ask the smaller dragon. The opaline pink eyes of the smaller dragon crease as they offer the USB from the building they “attacked”.

“Got it! It was a bit tricky to get behind all the firewalls but nothing like a quick punch to the system to disable it will do!” Apollo scoffs with an eye roll as Rhea hands the small chip to the taller dragon. “And this should have everything? A list of every Destructive human in this insufferable city?” Rhea nodded, their little wings flapping excitedly. Ivis nods and looks at the USB, studying it as if it was a small flick of power in the palm of their hand. 

And in truth, the USB held a powerful list of all humans who were either in jail, prison, or a civilian with a “Destructive” power. Something they need if they want to control the city and revert it back to its prior state. Before the silver and pale dragon could command the other two to hunt for the first person on the USB list, a soft beeping came from the console of the desk. Apollo rounded the table and picked up the phone. 

Their expression annoyed but they verbally confirmed something and hung up. “Those overseas business people are going to be coming in a week. The receptionist found a Mandarin interpreter for us. She’s sending the profile over now.” Ivis nodded and looked out behind the golden drake, taking note of the orange hues of the sky. He stares out the window for a moment, as if contemplating something for the two of them to do but he ultimately decides to call it “a night”- at least, for the two of them. “Return home and rest. I’ll send word out to the two of you for phase two of the plan.” 

Neither of the two dragons stuck around long enough to ask or hear a lecture. The sterling and pale dragon walked to the window, gazing out to the city, watching smaller heroes patrol the streets. A sneer falls on their face as they think to themselves, ‘This city will be mine again, Great Tree. There will be no death that will stop me this time. I’ll be sure of it.’

Chapter Text

Waking up to Sunny banging her pots and pans in the kitchen would normally make Allin smile as he sits up and watches the other lover cover his head with a pillow. Normally, Allin would giggle and throw himself over the ravenette who desperately tries to block out the shouting of not only the golden-haired lover but the pinkette who is equally making loud sounds for breakfast. The two males would lay in bed until the frail woman of white hair and round dull pink glasses peek in and ask for the two of them to help her calm the extrovert of the five lovers. 

Normally, Allin would be getting up with help with his crutch by Hamgwuang-gun (or Cannoli as the girls have started to call him), the two would slowly reach the stairs and giggle at the antics of the avian lover as she harps and begs the two males to hurry downstairs. The five would sit at their round table and pass around the plates full of food that was unnaturally sugary but have that dose of fruit on the side. The five would talk, plan, and offer help to any of the lovers for their chores. Most chores are just dusting and helping Allin sort through the attic. 

That would be how everything normally goes. Except for the past few weeks have been… tense. 

Allin blinks at the ceiling when the pots and pans clap and sing. The bed is cold, there is no ravenette to grumble and pull the blonde closer to him, no white-haired nature mage to enter the room and help him fetch his clutch, and just noise downstairs that isn’t light-hearted, mostly just frustration and yelling from the golden avian to whoever made her upset. The sapphire and topaz eyes close as he inhales, counting to seven, and then releasing for seven more seconds. 

He… None of them have been the same for some time. At first, they all admitted that the property they have taken residence in has started to seem more like an isolated space rather than the homey vibes that they all crave for. Allin knows that everyone is just trying to adapt to the manor but … 

It’s becoming more obvious that four of the five lovers are struggling to make the manor their home. Cannoli struggles to adapt to civilian life, Lily struggles to adapt to the vast forestry that seems more scary at night, Sunny is dealing with the sparse ingredients and lack of craft stores nearby, and Holly is just dealing with the lack of neighbors that she would normally bother or greet with a proud voice. Allin knows that his lovers are trying, they are trying to make peace with the quiet property but there is only going to be so much they can do before someone snaps. 

The blonde rolls onto his side and curls in the cold spot. Usually, Hamgwuang-gun would pull the blonde closer to him for more cuddle time until the mage comes in to help the blonde up but of course, the onyx-haired male is feeling the world of time slowing down now that he is no longer in the military. He has time to spend and he doesn’t know what to do with it. So he recently took up long walks or training in the forest to keep himself in shape. He would get up at an ungodly hour and only come back for breaks. 

Normally; Sunny would wake up first and quietly slip into the kitchen, Holly would wake up not to long after and move to take an early shower, this would stir the white-haired mage from her slumber and she’ll go downstairs to get the tea going, and after an hour or two, the two males would be pulled from their slumber and brought down to eat. Allin loved this routine, it was something he could follow and it meant that he could soak up all the love in the polycule. 

But now everything is quiet and he hates how quiet it is. He would usually take the silence as a moment of temporary peace before something chaotic happens. And the blonde healer wishes this was what was happening but this was a tense tension that fell over the polycule. And he wasn’t sure how to ease up on the tension. 

The healer sighed sharply, sitting up and observing the room; books of nature sat on every flat surface, laundry was spilling from the hamper, and closet doors were left open. The blankets on the bed were wrinkled and thrown in disarray, there was not a space in the room that wasn’t covered in golden feathers, where the room didn’t smell like white lily flowers or held the stale smell of berry alcohol. The room was where the five slept but thanks to the tension, the mage was falling asleep in her greenhouse. Holly and Sunny sleep on the couch after watching marathon after marathon of medical dramas, and Cannoli… Allin doesn’t even register the male sleeping next to him. 

He feels lonely.

He swings his one good leg over the bed and sits there, staring at the floor that seems to be more interesting than anything else in the room. The blonde mindless scoops up his scarf, wrapping the tails around his neck while his thumb rubs over the vanilla flower pendant, he slouches in his spot- unwilling to face the tension in the home. He doesn’t want to go downstairs and see the tightrope ready to snap, he can’t balance anymore- he is barely holding on with his hands, dangling over a pit of void and loneliness. 

The medic inhales slowly, puffing his chest while gripping onto the sheets of the bed, and letting out the breath shakily. He repeats this motion until the thumping of his heart calms down and he is in a better space mentally, now, he can go downstairs and try to put on a brave face for his lovers. It's a lot easier said than done, he doesn’t feel that sense of ease when the crutch slips under his arm and he makes the slow descent to the stairs then to the kitchen. 

With one leg, it’s hard for him to have a perfect balance of himself as he reaches the stairs. The first few times he had to deal with stairs was when he was in physical therapy, Cici was stubborn and ditched a fair amount of his university classes to help Allin grow used to walking without one limb. Luckily, the four lovers were more than ready to assist the blonde when he struggled with his crutch or an obstacle that required two legs. The stairs were the greatest enemy. 

Sunny and Holly would glare at the stairs whenever they helped the blonde up or down, Cannoli would just pick up the medic and carry him to the bed or wherever he needed to go, and Lily would be so patient to help him with holding one hand on his shoulder and the other gently on his back to keep him from falling backwards. 

They will still help if they see him fumbling slowly on the stairs but with how everyone is seemingly trying to avoid the inside of the manor, he had to do some things to get himself up and down. The blonde arrived to the staircase and took a moment to admire the lack of set up in the lobby; a decked out space with the sofas still covered by the bedsheets to collect dust, boxes full of smaller items to hand from the banisters or to decorate around, and the healer could see the layers of dust collected on the fake potted plants that Sunny brought with her. The checkered black-and-whtie tiles were shining in the light of the sky blue glass stained windows above the door. Making the dark tiles look like they were a dark navy blue rather than the pitchess of blacks. 

A common theme that Allin noticed about his late father’s home was the attention to detail with all colors of blue and yellows. He noticed it when he helped Holly clean the windows, he saw the colors decorated every window, glass panel, and even a few picture frames had a yellow or blue tinted glass. He mentioned this detail to Lily one time while they were sitting on the patio, the mage looked around and also made the same observation, “Maybe your father had your heterochromia?” She pondered.

 Allin hummed, he mused for a moment and commented that he doesn’t have a recollection of what his father’s eyes looked like. “I did notice a lack of photos of your father. Do you think your brother would know?” The rocking of the creaking chair pauses. The medic blinks as he looks at his tea, the steam billows up to his face while he looks at the liquid, his mouth set in a soft displeasure. “My brother… He doesn’t really like to talk about our father.” 

The mage of nature tilts her head as she tries to make eye contact with the healer. “How come?” Allin doesn’t give her a response, his face tells her that it could be a sore subject and thus, he doesn’t want to bring back memories to his brother. But that doesn’t stop his hands from reaching into his warm yellow cardigan. 

It only takes a few taps on the screen before the ringing starts. It takes one ring for the phone to answer and Cici’s voice breaks the millisecond of silence, he sounds like he just woke up, “M-ello?” He mumbled as the sounds of something moved in the background. “Hey Cici, sorry to wake you so early,” Lily makes a sound with a soft mutter, “It’s 11 am?” The blonde waits for his brother to respond to him first, “I’m up. I’m up. What’s happening? Did the moose finally attack?” Lily gives the blonde a perplexed expression and Allin sucks a sharp inhale to keep himself from breaking into giggles. 

“Ah- no. No. The moose didn’t attack. I had a question actually. About Dad?” The line then goes silent and the two lovers sit in that silence for a few seconds until the voice on the other end replies, “What did you find?” Allin doesn’t miss the crack in the voice, he winces at the sound. Lily, on the other hand, grimaces as she curls in on herself- more than likely regretting this interaction (Allin did too). Just the simple way that the older brother responded was enough for Lily to figure out that the subject of the father was not an easy one to discuss. 

Allin opens his mouth to make a response but he takes a moment to hold his tongue and quickly asks, “Do you know where that old collection of vinyl records is? We finally found the gramophone and I remember you told me that Dad had some old records somewhere in the house. You also mentioned that some were hidden somewhere in his study because they were his favorite?”

The half-truth rolls off his tongue so easily. The lovers did find a gramophone and some records but Allin knows that there are some hidden somewhere in the house and he’s just assuming that the records are in the study. 

The line goes quiet from Cici’s end but the two could hear him moving around and shuffling about his room, he mumbles something too quiet for either one to catch but Allin knows at that moment that Cici must’ve been at his desk when he called. The soft creak of the bed in Cici’s room echoes gently through the phone as Cici replies with a soft yawn, “There’s a secret drawer at his desk. There should be a small push-lock under the desk of the far right corner. It should pop out a small panel on the side of the desk.”

The phone is filled with shuffling of covers and blankets. “You should find the records in perfect condition. Just be careful with the Napoleon XIV record, that was father’s favorite. He used to play it to get you and I to sleep.” Allin nods and leans back, rocking the chair again. “Thank you. I’ll let Sunny know, she’s been wanting to have a music “party” at the manor. Which just means playing a bunch of old songs and we’re all drinking. Responsibly.” Lily muffles her giggles behind her hands as she turns away. Cici chuckles on the phone and yawns mid-sentence, “Sounds like a party. Tell them that if you are having trouble sleeping, play that record. It’ll knock you the fuck out.”

Allin hums and thanks his brother. Hanging up and turning to Lily who finally lets out a few giggles. Lily didn’t press for any more questions from then on about the father. The two did inform the others about the records and when they played the record of Napoleon XIV, it disturbed everyone but Allin. He smiled and hummed along. Matter of fact, he kept humming the song until Sunny squished his cheeks and begged him to stop for the day. 

Allin pulls away from the railing and sits on the top stair, he sighs as he begins the slow descent down the stairs with his butt being the pillow for his body. He’s done this a few times, climbing down the stairs with his hands moving him forward, and when he needed to go upstairs, he would lift himself up and go step by step upwards. It was awkward at first, but he soon got the hang of it.  

About halfway through the steps, the blonde hears footsteps coming towards him and the stairs. He looks over to see Holly standing in the entryway of the lobby to the stairs with a blank expression, her bright pink hair was braided off to her shoulder, she wore her nightgown with the words “Happy Sleeper” slightly wrinkled, and her eyes were wide as they stared at the blonde. Allin didn’t miss a beat to greet her, “Good morning Sweet Tart, does Sunny still have breakfast?” 

The sounds of pots clanging and the avian cursing was an answer enough. 

The noise broke whatever temporary spell on her and she strutted forward with her arms out, as if she was going to scoop Allin from the stairs. “What are you doing, Sunflower?” The sun-kissed hands slipped into her own and she pulled the medic upright, the crutch taken and helped under the blonde’s right shoulder. “I heard Sunny cooking and I wanted to come get breakfast,” he replies, as if that was the most obvious answer. 

Holly scoffs and shakes her head, “Yes, yes. But why were you going down the stairs like that? Isn’t Moondrop or Lily upstairs?” Allin shakes his head, nudging it off to the side to point towards the doors. “Moondrop and Lily are outside. I think Cannoli is training while Lily is gardening.” The taller woman pouts. Clearly unhappy about finding the one lover who has a literal limb missing coming down the stairs with no help. 

The healer drops his head on the arm of the other woman as he hums, “It’s okay,” reassuring the woman as if her thoughts were spoken aloud, “It’s exercise for my arms so it’s not all that bad!” Holly chucks up a few giggles and leans her head down to kiss the top of the healer’s head. “You silly Bluebird. Let’s get you some food, yeah?” The healer couldn’t have agreed more. 

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Normally after breakfast, someone would ask if anyone wanted to tag along with them to the market. Only a fifteen minute walk to the nearest “town” which was mostly a pit-stop with some houses. Sometimes Sunny would go to the town for more materials to make her jewelry or Lily would want to go to the Farmer’s Market for more seeds or look at any flowers she could plant in the garden. Allin goes into town to just wander and see what could be new (if there is anything). 

Recently, he’s been going alone. He’ll extend it to anyone in his proximity but no one really tries to voice their agreement. He tried to look for Hamgwuang-gun and couldn’t find him anywhere, Lily wasn’t willing, Sunny was too frustrated with her failed attempt to make french toast, and Holly said she was going to try and unpack some of her things. So Allin was walking along the rock and golden leaf trail, letting the tall pines drop their pine cones and letting the wildlife run free without any fear of hunters or humans disturbing them. 

The sun kissed the top of his head as he neared the town, the sound of the people shouting their wares and the animal market was full of animals calling out or butchers offering the best bits to eat, and the blue birds chirped above the head of the healer as he ducked into the market. He beelined over to the flower cart where the green-haired gardener looked up from his potted plants and waved at Allin, “Hi there Allin! Just you today?” The gardener asked. Herbert was one of the best gardeners that Allin knew beside Lily, the man always had something knew for the polycule and whenever Lily was around, the two would fall into a pleasant conversation about the best vegetables or flowers to grow in the current weather. 

Allin smiles as he leans on his crutch, looking over the selection of seeds. “Just me, the others were busy with house chores and well, you know, they don’t want me to do anything more than just walk around and make sure I don’t get killed by falling down.” Herbert chuckles softly. The town was the most aware of Allin and his disability. They were so happy to see Allin when he first came- supposedly, his father was very proud to show Allin off to the villagers when he was first born. Most still remember Cici as a young boy with a bright imagination and an ever-expanding inquisitive mind. It made the blonde smile to hear stories about his brother that he never got to go hear from a parent who died too long ago for him to remember his face.

At some point, Sunny and himself were in the village when one of the elders gave the healer an old black-and-white photo of his father. He didn’t recognize him at first, commenting that the “young man looked very handsome” and the elder mentioned that Allin and the man in the photo are very similar. At first, Allin thought she was referencing the dark shades of the eyes meaning that the man in the photo had heterochromia like Allin but he didn’t connect the dots that the man in the photo was his father. 

Allin tried to hand the photo back but the elder insisted that he keep it for memory sake. Sunny and Allin shrugged off the interaction as old age jargon but that night, Allin was on one of his longer calls with Cici. The blue-haired brother was still in uni, finally year and single (after nearly four years of a loving relationship), and Allin was talking about the village. The blonde doesn’t quite remember how the photo got into the conversation and when he showed the picture, Cici went all quiet. 

“What’s up? Do you remember the guy?” Allin inquired as he turned the photo back around and stared at the picture a little longer. The man’s hair was pulled into a braid that fell to his feet, holding a small bundle in his hands, a monocle sitting perfectly on his face and he seemed to be happy when the photo was taken. Cici didn’t respond and Allin filled that space with more chatter, “The elder said I looked like him. I thought that the man was a family member of her’s but she made me keep it. Dunno why. Do you know who he is?” The blonde looked at Cici whose face had gone pale and eyes watering with tears. 

“Woah- woah- Cici? Are you okay? Was he like a friend? Or what-” Cici spat out a wet laugh as he closed his eyes to let the tears shed. Cici’s emotions were high, he was broken from Farien’s breakup just a month ago, and his mental state wasn’t all there. The laugh was wrong. It wasn’t the cackle that Cici would let out if he was highly amused or the giggle of wheezes he would release if a situation was in his favor without the other knowing. 

This laugh was broken, a laugh that told the younger brother that the subject was sensitive and full of grief. “It’s Dad, Al. That’s Dad.” Was all Cici said and the blonde was suddenly looking at the photo with confused eyes. The man looked nothing like him but at the same time, Allin didn’t dare deny the points of similarity. The blonde stared at the photo for many hours, unable to tear away from the man who was smiling and holding a bundle that could be argued is Allin or Cici. “He looks so happy… He must’ve been so happy to have you both.” Holly commented when the healer informed the others about the photo. 

The three that weren’t at the market were curious about the picture, Cannoli even commented the same thing as the elderly woman, “The two of you look kinda similar. Maybe he’s a family friend?” Allin sat at the table and mumbled. He told them, his voice trembling as he squinted at the picture- his mind coming up to a blank as he tried to remember what his father looked like. There were no photos, no film reels, or even  blurry drawings in the house that would point out the look of a father that Cici so desperately wants to forget and what Allin wants to see. That photo is the only photo in the whole house that shows what “Sage Knowledge” looks like. 

“That’s his name? Sage?” Holly asked when she turned over the photo. “That’s what Cici says.” The ravenette hums, his voice rumbling in the grand kitchen as he sideway-hugs the blonde, “A nice name for a good man.” Allin huffs softly as he rubs his thumbs over a pack of blue sunflower seeds, his father’s favorite so rumored. Allin looks up to Herbert and asks suddenly, “Do you know anything about my dad? Or anything about my brother?” The gardener blinks and leans his head back. His mouth opens but softly closes. He looks away, sheepish, his hands rubbing together as he tries to find his words. 

Typically, Allin would never outright ask someone if they knew his brother or father. He didn’t go that far. For what reason? To not make anyone uncomfortable. He knows that people have a particular image when they see Allin and hear about his brother- they think both are doing well and living life the way their father wanted. But honestly, Allin hates to admit that he isn’t sure what his father would have wanted him to live like. He assumes… His father wanted good things for him? That’s what father’s want for their children. They want them to be happy. That is what he assumes at least. 

“I… I know your dad would take you to the sheep farm. Let you play with the lambs. Sometimes.” Herbert admits. It seems like a theme that Allin is associated with sheep. And the retired Navy medic doesn’t mind that comparison. Once he purchases the seeds and says goodbye, he continues his walk through the market; waving at stall owners, stopping by to chat with others, and checking out stalls with “new” items. Most of it is mundane and full of the same things, perhaps that’s why the other four lovers don’t come out as often- they see the same old things and lose interest with what can be offered. Allin doesn’t blame them. 

But it hurts all the same.

 Allin arrives at the livestock half of the market and greets the herders. Many of them greet Allin with bright smiles, knowing that the blonde would help them corral the animals to other pens or he’ll feed them while the farmer runs off to get food for themselves. Allin has started to get to know every herder by name, already reaching into his pocket to pull out the treats and chat them up. He finds this section the most stress relieving. All the animals coming up to him and showing him affection that he’s been wanting. He giggles when he’s nosed or bumped around to sit so the animals can “climb” on him and mess with face. He laughs and doesn’t put up most of a fight. 

Allin was at the rabbit stall when he saw the farmer for the sheep corralling his lambs away, much earlier than expected. Allin excused himself to catch up with the herder. “Hey there Pumpkin, what are you doing?” The sheep herder turned his head and waved at the medic with a down-turned expression. “Pumpkin” (or Peter) was a sheep herder as well as a gardener for pumpkins. Ironically, he was a part of his own polycule- five members total. 

When the other five found out, they searched for the village’s polycule and the ten of them chatted for long hours but with the travel the village’s polycule does for business or travel, the two parties never really see each other. Peter stays when he can but he moves a lot, always on the move with his lovers and his sheep need to move as well. Keep them away from the wolves in the surrounding forest. The herder is usually up-beat and always waving Allin over to play with the lambs before he leaves with the rest of the polycule for the summer. 

“Hey… What’s going on?” Allin asked, taking note of the depressed expression. “Ah… It’s nothing to worry over. Just…” He pauses and looks to the stall. Allin turns and feels his heart break when he sees a small body of a lamb sitting in the stall. Freshly cleaned but smaller than a lamb should be, Allin knows immediately that the lamb in the stall will not make it. “How long?” He asks, moving his crutch to enter the stall and try to hit on the haybale to be near the poor thing. “Maybe a day. I wanted to bring them along but… they won’t make it in the trailer.” Allin winces as his feet step into the muddy stall and as he approaches, he sees the body of the lamb shaking and bleating softly for its mother. 

Lambs like this always break his heart. He feels his heart strings get snapped when he sits his bottom on the hay, he feels for the poor thing. To be abandoned and alone in a world that has to give up on you because you couldn’t make it hurts the most. Allin may not have been through those shoes but his brother has. Traumatized and lost- his brother didn’t live his life the best when he was younger. Allin saw his destructive behaviors and when he had to adapt to his shape-shifting, it wasn’t easy for him. 

Allin is close enough to the lamb for him to lean down and pet the back, an attempt to comfort the poor thing. The lamb shifts and looks up to Allin- catching the blonde completely off-guard. “Peter-! This baby-” He starts but he stops when he looks at the herder. He has his walking staff and a sorrowful look in his eyes. “I can’t take them. It's a miracle they are alive now but still… They won’t make it.” The blonde looks at the baby and feels his heart rise. To see such life looking at him, begging him for help, begging to live- Allin refuses to let this lamb go out without someone by their side. 

“I’ll take them.” Peter tilts his head, “What would your lovers say?” Allin smiles softly at the lamb and leans closer, “They’ll love them just as much as I do.” Allin turns to the shepherd and asks, “You wouldn’t happen to have a cart for me to put them in do you?”

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“It has two-heads, Allin!”

The blonde looks at the phone with a deadpan expression. “Noooo, really? I didn’t notice.” He smiles as he turns his attention back to the two-headed lamb drinking the milk from the bottle. Carting the lamb from the market to the house was not an easy task but the idea of sheltering a baby creature like this invigorated the blonde to get the lamb to shelter. The lamb was born with two heads, small and very much aware, it bleated and cried for love. Something that Allin had lots to share. 

“Where in the world did you get a two-headed lamb? Aren’t they- like- rare and wanted by science?” Cici asked. The brothers were on a face-time call (one long overdue); Allin was in the shed converted to a small cottage for him and the lamb, Cici was in his apartment’s kitchen, and both were watching the lambs drinking from the two bottles Allin had in his hands. “Yes but I refuse to let them get hurt or taken away. If they die, I want to be there. They deserve that much.” The blueberry designer tilts his head back and forth as he watches in awe. Allin likes to think that the older brother is so tempted to drive to the manor to get up close and pet the lamb. “You better keep them alive long enough for me to visit. I’m bringing Aphrodite- she loves cute things like this.”

Allin hums in agreement and smiles softly as both heads of the lamb pull away and bleat softly as Allin sets the bottles to the side. The blonde maneuvers his leg to be outstretched as he scoots closer to the lamb to help them rest their heads on his lap. “I am bringing Pinkie to see these cute shits.” Cici admits. Allin hisses at his brother in warning, but there is no bite to the bark. The blueberry stares at the lambs as they rest their heads on Allin’s lap and slowly fall asleep, their ears flick gently and soon enough, Allin is trapped. 

“Do the lovers know?” Cici whispers, although unneeded. Allin turns the phone to him and shakes his head. “No, they don’t. But that’s okay. They wouldn’t mind- if anything- they’ll be curious. Lily would want to check their vitals and keep logs to make sure they live to the fullest, Sunny would probably be scared but warm up, Holly would just buy too many sweaters, and Cannoli… You know what? I don’t know what Cannoli would do.” The medic rests his hand on the lamb’s left head and pets it slowly, a smile of content on his face. 

Cici watches his brother smile and sees the mirth in his eyes. Allin always had that look when lambs or sheep were resting near or on the brother, he looked so content and at peace, he could die there and he wouldn’t complain. Cici sees his brother- he sees the joy but deep in the eyes, the eldest can recognize hesitance and doubt flickering in the eyes of the brother. There was a time when the youngest fell into the darkest pits of self-doubt, he remembers his brother was lost in the sea of hurt and life lost its shine. That tired and glazed look had returned to him. Cici distantly remembers one of the last phone calls had Allin sighing so deeply, his bones would have turned to dust from how tired he sounded. 

“Has everything been improving on the front?” Allin looks at the phone, the glazed eyes flicker with confusion while the brother pouts slightly. “Ah? Referring to?” He asked. Cici looks around the room to make sure none of his roommates were in the proximity of the call, he really doesn’t want his roommates to voice in the situation. Radley does it a lot with Sal and his siblings so Cici wants this to be private. “About the “pressure” everyone has been feeling recently?” The face that Allin makes it is simply heart-broken. 

His eyes fall to the lamb, his face is pinched tight with his brows furrowing, one hand goes up with the blonde bangs covering nearly fifty percent of the face. “Oh,” he mumbles, rubbing his neck. “Yeah… Everyone is- Everyone is better.” He murmurs in an attempt of confidence but everything about his demeanor is anything but confident. It makes Cici’s skin crawl with worry. “Talk to me.” He demands, tone set firmly for the younger to not try and change the subject. The blonde does want to talk, he isn’t sure what to even say. 

Does he tell his brother about the empty bed? How cold is it when he wakes up? How everyone is ready to snap if something goes wrong? How everyone is backing off from each other, leaving one or two to long for the touch of the lover? Does he mention how he has to pick up the pieces of his lovers as they pace like a caged predator? Or will he mention how he must struggle up and down stairs alone? There are only so many things he could say and his brother may or may not react well too? The blue-haired brother has threatened to drive down and pick him, to take the brother to the apartment and just give him space to breathe. To be back in society. 

“Allin,” Cici demands. The medic sags his shoulders and opens his mouth, just to then close it. “We… Everyone is taking their time adjusting. It’s nothing too bad.” He’s cold. He is so cold. He is a child of the sun, so his brother would say. He always thrives in the sun and the company of the people he loves the most. He grows in the love and adoration his lovers give him, he blooms under the sun when it shines, and he becomes this being of peace when he feels everything is clicked into place. 

But recently… everything has not been warm . 

“Bull- and you know it.” Cici remarks, raising one eyebrow in support of his callout. Allin snaps at the camera with an expression of fury for a moment then breaks it into a solemn look when he sees his brother's face. “We’ve… It’s not easy for them,” he whispers. His hands pet over the heads of the lamb as they snooze in their sleep, such innocent things curled against him- it fills his heart with such joy. It only reinforces his determination to keep them alive for as long as he can. He even playfully thinks about making them into his service animal.

“This land is… isolating. You know that.” Cici nods then comments, “Dad liked the quiet. It means that he could study more and only go into the city if he needed to check something out or anything that means leaving the house if absolutely needed. Like we needed to go to a doctor’s appointment.” Allin scoffs with a small smile as he imagines a younger Cici holding him in a bundle of different blankets as a man with a blurry face sits next to him and reads a book while waiting in a waiting room full of germs and chatter from nurses.  

“Yeah, well, the others don’t like it as much. Sunny likes to fly around, Holly wants to talk and share stories, Lily wants to explore, and Cannoli wants to do something that’ll keep his mind occupied. The city offered those things but out here… It’s a “wasteland” as Sunny would say. Nothing to do, nothing but trees for miles.” The older brother scoffs as he raises his hand, starting a list, “Lily could check out the forest for more plants, the pink one can go into town and  tell stories, there is literally the fucking sky for Golden Meance to fly around in, and your dark and broody lover can just take up knitting. OR crochet! That’ll keep his mind “occupied.” Geez…” Cici slaps his hands on the counter and one of the heads shoots up. 

They bleat for a moment then settle back down. Allin glares at Cici for a moment then he resettles down. “I’ve tried to help them but they… It- it wasn’t easy. It’s not easy for them to adapt so quickly to a new space.” The other scoffs as he snips at no one but the images of the four lovers in his mind, “Lily and Grumpy were in the military, they can adapt. Grandiose Pinkess is a social butterfly while Gold Seagull can just fly around. They are just being ignorant.” Allin wants to bite back. He wants to argue. He has that urge to defend his lovers but he knows internally that his brother is not wrong. 

He knows that Cici is more correct than anything. There are things for the four lovers to do and he knows this. There are places and spaces for the other four to busy themselves, and maybe they just need to know that they can do it, but at the same time, the blonde wonders if they would even want to try it out. “Look Allin,” the two brothers look at each other. 

“Just… Just work on something for yourself. I’m assuming that you’re working on trying to get them to work with you but you’re either getting nothing or just a little. So just let them come to you. Work on something for yourself. Like… Like…” The designer squints and says with a questioning tone, “Making that shithouse into something for you to nap in with the lamb.” He pulls back and gestures to the brother and lamb, “You want that baby to live long? Make a space for them to thrive in. Don’t like- make them into a dog or anything but just help them get used to living with you. Hell, make them a service animal. Just occupy yourself and once those four idiots realize their mistakes, they’ll come running for you.”

Allin bites the inside of his cheek, he rolls the thick tissue with his lower jaw as he looks around the shed. “This space could use some refurbishment. Maybe I could make a little nook for the lamb?” He voices aloud. Cici nods and rolls his hand as he remarks, “A space for you to breathe and take a break from the pressure!” The blonde nods his head and feels his heart soar as he imagines what he could decorate in the nook. “Yeah… Yeah, I could do that.” Allin confirms. The older brother smiles and as he crosses his arms to lay his head on, “What are you gonna name the lamb?” Allin blinks and looks back at the two-headed infant.

One name rings true in his mind. A name he used for a toy he lost long ago, a toy he has never been able to find in the manor. “Lamby. That’ll be their name.” He leans down and kisses each of their heads. 

“That sounds stupid. It’s adorable.”

“Be careful, I might train them to eat your clothes.”

“I fucking dare you.”

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The shed was turning out great! The walls were painted with a new fresh coat of virent and the trim was a soft minim color, he painted the walls with flowers of all types, while also keeping an eye on Lamby who wanted to step in the pain and coat the floors with little hoof marks. Allin gave up on stopping them when they stepped into the yvor paint. The healer had to be careful where he stood as he walked the two-headed baby run around and jumped in delight. He almost took off his shoe to play with the lamb but thought better. 

The walls were soon covered in small landings for the lamb to practice jumping, the far left corner was decorated like a pillow fort with all the best blankets Allin could buy from the market to decorate the small corner, and with the pile of books that were luckily left uneaten,it seemed like a nice space to sit and read. The floor was covered in small balls for Lamby to push around and hanging on the inner door was a service vest that Cici had sent him. “Might as well make them a service animal at this point,” Cici remarked. 

The two-headed lamb walked with Allin everywhere . Like a little ducking with its mother. The town cooed and awed when the two-headed sheep came walking in with Allin by their side, the medic felt pride whenever anyone approached and respectfully asked to pet the sheep. He was happy, and even when Peter came back for a few weeks to rest after his trip- he was pleasantly surprised to see the two-headed lamb still alive. 

The two sat at a cafe and chatted as they waited for Peter’s lovers to come over and see the service sheep themselves. Allin was just so happy. He couldn’t stop smiling; everyday he woke up in the early morning- much earlier than anyone else, he would go to the shed and take the lamb out for a walk and train them to their side, and then they would go into town to help out or socialize the lamb with the world. 

Several weeks blurred together and Allin partly forgot why he was so focused on Lamby. Cici didn’t try asking about his lovers, seeming like he couldn’t care less if one of them died or left. The shed was starting to become Allin’s sleeping spot, he hadn't returned to his normal bed in sometime- unwilling to feel the cold sheets cling to him, and Lamby was so warm, he felt better with them resting their heads on his chest. It was calming. 

But there was a problem that Allin was facing. The roof wasn’t reinforced as much as he thought it was. The rain season was coming and he could see the hole in the roof. He went into town the day prior to ask for advice for the roof. Ava (usually a blacksmith of town but recently took up construction to help build more homes around town) recommended some study material that would best cover the whole roof. She even helped him move the material to the shed and she asked if he would need help but Allin refused. He knows how to use a nail and hammer, sure, the ladder will be fun to work with but he can handle it. 

Leaving him with one difficult task, taking nails and a hammer without anyone seeing him. He was sure that everyone was minding their own business so he believed that he was fine to go into the garage, grab the nails and hammer, then go get started on the shed. The garage was dusty and with the sunlight blessing the dark space with light, Allin wanted to cough for how much dust there was. Lamby sneezed thrice and bleated, pawing the ground with their hooves. “Go back to the shed, Lamby. I’ll be right back.” He commanded softly, the two-headed sheep nodded and bounced away. 

Allin shuffled through the boxes, moving them off to the side as he reached the old workbench. There was a beautifully bright red toolbox that Allin knows there are nails and a hammer inside. He reaches the bench and takes the toolbox, ready to walk out, but he catches something from an opened box. He stops for a moment to look at the opened box, most of the things in the garage were just extra things some of the lovers brought along, and hoped to place around the house once they got situated but obviously, from all the dust, they haven’t really planned on unpacking everything yet. 

Allin scoots his crutch closer so he could peer into the box and see what was inside; he found some old tapes, a turned over picture frame, and some packing peanuts. He set the toolbox off to the bench and reached in, pulling the photo up and turning it over to see what it had- he mostly assumed it was the picture of some stock photo but he stopped moving when he saw the two eyes. 

Cici always said that the three of them inherited the heterochromia. The man in the photo was sitting with a background of navy blue, his hair was a dizzying blue raspberry with white streaks weaved into the hair that was off the shoulder in a low ponytail. The man was wearing some hat that was a mix between a pirate hat and a beret, and there was this little tendril popping out of the hat like it was also a part of a jester hat. He was wearing a soft golden yellow sweater with a monocle on his left eye. He wasn’t alone. There was a small body with the same blue hair braided off the shoulder sitting next to him, mirroring the same eyes the man had. The right eye was a sunshine yellow while the left eye a sapphire blue. 

And in his arms was a bundle wrapped in a knitted blanket that had little flowers doting the chains. Allin could see a little hand reaching up for the man and Allin feels this cold sensation fall down his spine-

“Allin?”

“FUCK ME!” 

There was a sharp echo of glass meeting a concrete ground and a body banging into the bench beside them. Hamgwuang-gun flinched and took a step back as Allin bumped his side into the bench roughly. The photo is now sitting on the floor with glass haloing around the frame. The blonde looked up to the other male and wondered how he didn’t hear his male lover enter the garage. “Don’t fucking scare me like that!” Allin snaps at the ravenette as he looks down. The glass litters around his foot and the photo is faced down. The medic leans down to pick up the broken frame and he grunts as he stretches his now bruising side. 

“I’m sorry- I- I saw you come in and I just-” The other stumbled and then hissed, “Careful! There’s glass-” Allin stands upright and frantically turns the photo over, hoping for the least amount of damage to the photo. 

Of course… Of course, Cici and himself are perfectly fine but the broken frame scratched up the face of his father. The paper was slightly torn and one small piece of glass is stuck between the photo, stabbing the father in the center of his chest. “I… Ah, I’m sorry. I should’ve said something.” Cannoli mutters as he steps towards Allin. The blonde snaps his head at the other, his movement swift and cut-throat, it makes the taller lover flinch. “I’m fine. What do you want?” The medic demands. 

The Korean grunts with his face contorting from one of worry to mild annoyance, a look he usually gives to Sunny when she does something stupid. “I wanted to come talk to you. Spend some time with you. I’m sorry if I wanted to check up on you.” Allin knows his face is changing, molding from anger to one of apprehension, he wants to keep that fury in his heart burning. Now he wants to spend time with him?

“Why? Got bored punching trees?” He tries to snip, but it comes out like a joking tone. He doesn’t actually know if the Korean man was punching trees to pass the time but it seemed to be the correct answer. The taller rumbles, a laugh he tries to suppress but can’t. “Yeah… Yeah, I got bored punching trees. And I got tired of banging on my chest like a gorilla.” Allin shouldn’t  giggle, he shouldn’t be smiling. Stop smiling! It cannot be this easy for one of the lovers to come to him and make it seem like the past month has been a nightmare. A month of waiting for one of the four to come to him and make his life glow again. 

“Why are you in here?” Cannoli inquires as he looks around the garage, probably noting how dusty it was. “I.. I was just- Looking around.” Allin says, the lie sits in his throat like a lump of coal in a stocking. He hates it when he lies to his lovers, he made a vow to never lie to them because if he lied, then he isn’t being truthful about his feelings. Something Holly wouldn’t be happy to hear about. “Ah. I guess you were assessing how everything should be placed in the house, hm? You shouldn’t be moving boxes…” He trails off when he sees the edges of the photo in Allin’s hand. “Oh…” He mouths. The blonde turns to set the paper back in the box and looks around, “Where’s a broom?” He tries to push the subject away. 

He doesn’t want to think about his dad. Not without Lamby. Did Midnight see Lamby? Where was- “Hey- hey! Hold on.” A grip rests on his forearm and he’s pulled back before he could move around the ravenette. “Slow down…” The other mumbles as he looks at Allin. The blonde doesn’t want to stay but he can’t deny how much he missed seeing one of the lovers being with him. He hates it. He hates how one of them could just appear and make his insides feel warm with butterflies and his face pleads for the lover to kiss him. He feels his cheeks warm up the longer Cannoli stares and when Allin finally looks away, the other lets go of the forearm. “I’m sorry… For scaring you. I just… I haven’t seen you around the property and Lily said that she didn’t see you in bed so…” 

Allin scoffs without realizing it. The darker male looks perplexed, “What was that for?” he asks. Allin looks down, he stumbles over his words for a moment and instead, he waves his hand. “It’s nothing. Really.” He turns his crutch to move past, forgetting the toolbox and willing to return later when the other wasn’t in the same space. “Now hold on Allin,” the larger body blocks his segway to leave. “Just what is going on with you?” Allin steps back and looks at the garnet eyes (how he missed those beautiful eyes). “First of all, Lily doesn’t see you in bed. Sunny hasn’t seen you at breakfast for the past week. Holly doesn’t even know where you go, and I don’t see you anywhere on the property. So forgive me when you scoff when I ask where you’ve been, I’m a little more inclined to know where you have been. And why you’re acting so… cold.”

Allin feels that fury return like a whip, he snips as much, “ So NOW you care about where I am?” The other rears his head back as if he was surprised with a gun to his face. “What does that mean?” He demands, stepping closer. Allin huffs his shoulders back and puffs his chest as he hisses through gritted teeth, “A month has gone by and now everyone is wondering where I went? For the better of four weeks, I have been trying to get everyone together and still call you lovers. For God’s sake Hamgwuang-gun, are you really just going to pretend that you haven’t been pushing me away when I try to get you to come home? Are you just going to willingly forget you snapped at me when I begged you to come home to sleep in our bed because I was tired of sleeping alone?”

The other male doesn’t try to open his mouth, he only looks at the fury that is surely burning in Allin’s different colored eyes (or maybe he sees the tears that are threatening to fall). “ Now you want to come to me and cuddle? To love me after a month of just pushing me and the others away?” Allin stamps. He wants to stomp on his foot but he can only shake his head, trying to shove down that urge to curl into an embrace to fight away the tears. 

They have fights. Sometimes, it gets out of hand. He admits that. Every couple has a fight. But this… This wasn’t a fight. This was willful neglect. “Allin… I’m sorry-”

“Save it.” Allin cuts off. He’s trying hard to not cry. He’s trying so hard to not break into tears. His chest is heaving while his face warms up, he doesn’t want to cry. He doesn’t want to admit how much he wants the ravenette to just shove his words away and hug him. To kiss him and tell him that he will never leave his side. He wants the other male to just engulf him in a warm embrace and swear to never leave him again. He can’t go through something like this again. He would rather die than go through this. 

He’s crying. He’s just letting the floodgates out. He’s so disappointed with himself. Why couldn’t he just hold it in for a moment longer so the other can leave and prove to him- prove his doubts that maybe he’s the problem and he’s going to break the five apart-

He feels the shadow of the man step closer as two bulky arms wrap around him, pulling him into a chest. He tries to pull back his hands only bang soullessly on the chest of the taller lover. The Korean holds his lover as he lowers his head to kiss the top of the blonde’s head. A quiet motion of silence while the medic muffles his sobs into the bulk of the other. 

Midnight never meant to do harm to his lovers. He’s… He doesn’t like open space. Open space was ingrained into his mind that it was a ploy for the enemies to use and to ensure safety for his troops and brothers, the open space would have to be closed off or flooded with troops to keep the space clear and out of harm’s way. But that is a double-edge sword in of itself. And that sword not only stabbed into him, but also in the lover who has made his transition to civilian life, that much easier. Allin hiccups as his hands curl into the jacket that the ravenette wore, he was angry, frustrated, and more or less, upset that he was crying like this. He should be angry. He should be yelling and screaming at the top of his lungs. But he can’t deny how much the presence of one of his lovers made his body untense itself. 

The large hands that are firmly wrapped around the blonde’s spine slowly unfurl, making the lover retreat and look at the blonde in the face. Suddenly the two large hands are picking him up, his back hits the boards of the workbench and a scarred pair of lips are pressing against his face. The first pair of lips were pressed firmly against his lips, then kissing around his cheeks, they kept pressing against his face until the small hiccups were turned into fits of laughter. Giggles echoed through the garage as the taller kissed the blonde silly. “C-Cannoli!” Allin laughs as he tries to pull away. “M’yes?” The kisses move from the cheeks to the forehead and the closed eyelids of the healer. 

“You goof-” The medic spats with giggles peeling from his lips as he tries to keep his grumpy facade but the other refuses to let the sadness return. “Mm…” The taller finally settles his lips on Allin’s and they hold the kiss for a few moments. The sun casts her rays into the slanted space and the light illuminates a halo around the taller’s back but his shadow engulfs Allin as he sits on the workbench. The two of them part away for a moment. Dark calloused hands come to rub away straying tears from the apples of Allin’s cheeks. Allin cups his own hands over the larger hands and presses into them, feeling his heart slightly settle for the warmth the rough hands provided. 

Another kiss is delivered to the diamond-shaped birthmark on Allin’s head. “If I can say it a thousand times, I will say I’m so sorry for leaving you to believe I did not want you around me. I… I’m not used to all this space. I keep thinking that I’m dreaming and I need to be ready but my mindset has brought you great ill. I’m so sorry.” He mutters as he kisses the space between Allin’s eyes. “It’s okay… I’m sorry for snapping.” The other mutters as he turns his head to kiss one of the palms of his Midnight's hands. “You have nothing to apologize for. It’s my fault.” The taller leans back down to capture the other’s lips. 

This kiss goes on a little longer, both reunite their kisses and as they continue the kiss, the taller takes a turn. One hand leaves the cheek and pulls the scarf around Allin’s neck to become a little looser. He starts to trail the kisses down to the chin then to the neck. His hands leave the face of his lover and trail down the sides of the blonde. 

Allin squirms when the fingers trace over his side and slip under his sweater, “Ah- Midnight,” he breathes as the other tilts his head to kiss the spot where Allin’s pulse beats a thousand per minute. “Someone might- if one of the girls catches us-” he tries to warn, trying to stop the warmth of his cheeks go south. “Mm… You’re right.” The other pulls back and looks around the garage. The taller one looks around a little more than hums when he finds what he needs. 

Before Allin could ask, the soft click of the gears above him started to groan. The track reel starts to lower the door and soon, the room is only illuminated by the dusty windows that create a faded sunlight to filter into the room. The other returns to where he left off but this time he presses his hands into the hips and gently bites the spot where Allin’s pulse beats. 

Allin tilts his head and trails his hands up the arms to soon rest them on the shoulders of the taller male. “What if one of them-” He hitches his breath when Cannoli pulls Allin closer to him, hip to hip. “It’s fine. All three girls went into town. Don’t worry about it.” Allin nods and shifts himself to better balance himself on the bench, shivering when the lover trails his hands down.

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Allin has his face covered by his scarf, refusing to let Cici see his neck. The blueberry was wheezing on the phone while crouching by his bed, unable to breath as his younger brother tried to cover his blush. “I hate you,” he muttered. “No- no, you don’t!” Cici howls as he falls back, sitting on the floor. “How- how did the others react? Were they jealous?” He pried, which Allin turned to bury his face more into his scarf. 

Matter of fact, Sunny and Holly hooted and hollered when they came back. Lily supposedly drove them to the next town over and they brought lots of things like alcohol, candy, microwave food and soup, and so many things that would kill anyone if they consumed too much. The two males were napping in the bedroom after they moved their activity to a more comfortable safe. For once, Sunny wasn’t the one who was taunting the two lovers- it was Holly. She crowed in laughter while Lily hid her face and Cannoli chased after Sunny who mentioned something about taking a photo. 

The next few hours were filled with chaos and drinking. Something Allin didn’t partake in and snuck out to check on Lamby, who was thankfully sleeping after eating a meal Allin left before the party started. Now come morning, Allin woke up to the bed being full of warm bodies and arms locking him in place.  He was luckily able to slip out and run to the shed to help Lamby walk around, just like the usual schedule, but even when he got the red toolbox, Cici decided to call and when Allin wasn’t looking, one of the roommates peered over and saw the hickey. 

Forcing Cici to hide in his room and demand details (which Allin told him no). Now he was sitting outside, face scrunched up and hiding in his scarf while Lamby ate inside. Cici rolled his head back and asked, “Did they see Lamby yet?” Allin shook his head, “And I’m going to wait until after the shed roof is done. Which I should get to, so bye.” He rushed, Cici looked at the camera and before Allin could hang up, the older brother just squinted and the call ended. A silent sign of ‘how dare you end my entertainment,’ but Cici will get a bigger story later. 

For now, Allin looked up to the ladder and sighed. This was going to be a pain in his butt. He knows it. But there is no other way for him to do this so… Up he goes. The actual part of standing with one leg is… interesting. He had to learn how to pick himself up if he falls down, one leg to uphold the whole upper half of his body is not an easy feat but at the same time, there is no other way for him to stand unless he wishes to crawl like a worm up the ladder. (A mockery Sunny will find hilarious). 

The blonde grasps the sides of the metal and presses his knee into the third rung of the ladder, he slowly slides his hands up, then once his back is properly stretched out, he hops onto the fourth rung of the ladder and wheezes as he repeats the same motion four more times to reach the rooftop. Luckily, he was able to slip the red toolbox on the roof with no need to climb up and down the ladder, he had some material to use just to patch up the hole, and maybe when the others are awake- they’ll want to meet Lamby. Seemed like a genuine good plan. 

He opened the tool box and pulled out the hammer and two nails, one was held in his mouth while the other was held in Allin’s non-dominant hand. The first sheet of material was set over the smaller side of the hole and the first nail went in without any problems, Allin popped the second nail in with a few hits and the first piece of the roof was complete. Now to do six more. Allin only held two nails pre hit, he never held more than one in his mouth and more than two in his hand. He was getting the hang of nailing in the material, keeping balance on the roof was a little tricky but he didn’t mind, he found it fun… hitting something in place and watching it go into the wood. Lamby bleated at him when he finished on sheet after the other. 

One sheet four, Allin was about to hammer in the 24th nail when he heard fast footsteps approaching. He lifted his head up and heard a loud squawk that he knows belongs to Sunny but he doesn’t see her-

“ ALLIN!? ”

Ah. He’s caught. 

The blonde looked over his shoulder to see Sunny in her almost transparent robe with her wings fully expended out and looking horrified to see him on the roof. He doesn’t get a chance to wave because Cannoli runs out from the house to most likely see the commotion and when he makes eye contact with Allin, his face molds into a look of horror. As if seeing the one-legged medic was a sight to behold. 

Allin watches as the ravenette books it over to him while Sunny struggles to get out of her robe and fly over him. “Hi Midnight,” Allin greets normally- trying so hard to not get flustered at the wide and panicked eyes his lover was giving him as he approached the ladder. “ What are you doing up there!?” The darker lover all but snaps. He starts to climb the ladder and Allin tries to shoo him off, “I’m just fixing the shed’s roof. Why are you-”

“ALLIN!”

He should’ve just announced that he was on the roof of a shed just so the others won’t freak out this badly. He honestly didn’t understand why they were acting as if he was cutting off his other leg. Sure, the blonde understands that seeing a disabled lover in a space where climbing down could be near impossible but if he was able to climb up, then he can climb down! (That’s his mindset anyways. Cici would approve). “Just- just stay still!” Lily cries softly as she circles around the ladder as Cannoli reaches the top. 

“What were you thinking!?” The other male snaps as he reaches the blonde. “I just said I was fixing the roof of the-” He’s suddenly lifted over the shoulder of the Korean and he braces himself on the back with a mildly confused expression. “Seriously- I’- I’m fine! I’ve climbed the roof before with no problem!” He yelled as he looked over to the girls who now had an extra layer of stress folded over their faces. “You did this before?!” Sunny snaps as she rushes forward to help the darker male stand on solid ground. 

The retired medic is settled on his one leg, the blonde doesn't try to take it as he tries to speak above the fray of panicked looks and stern words. He doesn’t try to stop them as they fiddle around him; Holly beckons the darker male to get a first aid kit, Sunny is gripping on the crutch with a vice grip, while Lily tries to look at Allin as if he has a grievous injury. The blonde lets this happen, he tries to speak over everyone as they fumble around- he sees the panic in their eyes and he briefly wonders if they were worried about him because they hadn’t seen him in the past few weeks. 

On one hand, he can see why they would be so freaked about seeing him in a position that could’ve been dangerous. But on the other hand, why are they acting like he did some universal wrong? Last time he checked, none of them have been keeping tabs on one another, no one has checked on him- much less offered him company when he tried to offer his company to them in the weeks of isolation. And to add, last night was the night that all four of them willingly got together and slept in one bed after several weeks to a month of not being in bed, forgoing to sleeping in greenhouses, on the sofas, or in a guest bedroom. 

There is that fury that starts up in his chest again, the same anger that burned in his skin when Midnight tried to spend time with him after willingly ignoring him and pushing him out of “picture”, when all Allin tried to do is make the manor into a home they all can enjoy. The blonde shoos away the smaller hands of Lily as he turns to Holly and Cannoli as they return with a first aid kit. “Honestly! I’m okay!” He tries to say but the taller pinkette shakes her head, “No- no- Allin- you were on a roof and with nails! You shouldn’t have been up there anyways! One of us could have done the job if you asked one of us!”

Allin scrunches his nose. “And when would I have been able to say anything when the four of you were ignoring one another?” He snaps harshly. He doesn’t mean for it to sound so blunt but it was the truth in the situation. The five just reunited under one roof, and that was when there was alcohol, and two lovers got a little crazy in bed. Is that all it takes for the five to be one again? “Allin… We-” Lily starts but closes her mouth as Sunny scoffs with an affronted look as she tries to make eye contact with the blonde healer, “We all needed some space. Air. Away from this massive and isolating place. Besides, it’s not that we abandoned you.” Allin doesn’t look at her but the air starts to become thick. 

There was a silent response that stopped the four’s senseless chatter, the look on Allin’s face added to the silence, and the way he didn’t look at Sunny said enough for the silence to spell out the words he did not say. Holly stares at the smaller male and opens her mouth, to ask- to ask if the four’s temporary moment of quiet made him feel as if they did abandon him. She feels her gut roll uncomfortably as she remembers helping the blonde down the stairs when he tried to come down on his own, he said Midnight nor Flower weren’t in the room to help him down, and she knows that Sunny and herself have been sleeping on the sofas, has he been sleeping alone this whole time?

“Allin-” She starts, her hand reaching up to rest on the blonde’s shoulder, to get him to look at her, for her to see the words he refuses to say aloud because he knows that if he does, he would be slapping them all with the truth of the matter that has occurred in the past few weeks.

“Baaaaaah! Baaaaah!” All five turn their heads to see what creature just broke the silence. 

Only to see a two-headed lamb looking up at them with both heads tilting the other direction. 

No one moved. Lamby blinked her four eyes and bleated again, curious about the other members she hasn’t met before. Lily felt her curiosity take full control of her brain. Holly just blanked out when she saw two heads. Sunny’s face was slowly morphing into one of true horror. And Midnight was slowly reaching for the first aid kit, to do what? He has no idea. He is looking at some abomination of life staring at him. He must act. 

“Oh, hi Lamby.” Allin greets. He finally turns to Sunny, takes his crutch, and moves past the two taller lovers of the five. He whistles gently to the baby lamb who takes up full attention and trots to his side, laying on her hooves as the blonde situates in front of the four “new” people. “Allin… What-”

“ KILL IT!”

“I’m getting my gun.”

“ WHY DOES IT HAVE TWO HEADS!? ”

Allin flinches back and raises one hand to try and calm the four, but one already left for something and the other three were either trying to get closer or pull him away from his lamb. “Sunny- Sun- GOLDIE! Chill!” He snips as the avian tries to yank him away from the lamb who has perked up at the yelling. Lily tries to kneel but gets scooped up by Holly, “Nope, nope, nope, nope-” Sunny hisses as she reels backward, going behind the shed and glaring at Lamby. 

“Sunny- oh my god. Holly, put Lily down. Lamby isn’t harmful- Hamgwuang-gun! PUT THE GUN AWAY!” Allin yells as he quickly moves to get in front of the lamb as the retired military lover comes out with a gun. “There is currently a thing behind you-” The darker male tries to argue but Allin stands in front of Lamby, ready to start smacking and swinging his crutch around to defend his service sheep. “Allin- it has two-heads! ” Sunny cries as she ducks behind the shed again. “And? Two heads for me to kiss? Why is that bad?” Allin argues. 

Midnight tries to move around Allin but the blonde gets in his way again. “Wait- wait, hold on everyone,” Holly finally speaks, moving to step between the two retired military personnel. “Allin, have you been raising this… lamb?” She asks. Allin nods as he says, “I’ve been training them to become my service animal. Which has been keeping me company .” Lily ducks under Holly’s outstretched arm to kneel at Lamby, “Hi there,” She coos so softly. 

Cannoli flinched his hand up which held the weapon but once he saw the two-headed lamb bleat and nuzzled Lily’s hand for pats, he lowered his hand. Sunny wasn’t coming out from her spot and instead, glaring at the lamb. “Where did you even get a two-headed lamb?” Sunny snips as she curls her wings on her back, showing her apprehension to approach. Even if one lover is adoring the lamb so happily. “Peter. He was taking his lambs out and this lamb was assumed to die after a day but I am happy to say that I have been keeping her alive and healthy for two weeks!”

Holly sees a sparkle in the different colored eyes of her male lover, she sees how his face relaxes as his eyes drift to look down at the baby sheep who happily bleats under Lily’s hands as she looks at their heads and scoots closer to inspect them more. “Where did you get the vest?” The mage asks as she looks up to Allin. “Cici. He insisted that Lamby be my service animal. He says he’ll bring his roommates to meet her because they apparently love to see baby animals with two heads.” 

Lily nods and pats the lambs’ heads. “Its name is Lamby?” Midnight asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched Lily look at the sheep. “ Her name is Lamby. I named her after a toy I lost when I was younger. I also wanted to be a shepherd when I was older. Sheep are my favorite animal.” He says kindly while he turns to look at the lover hiding behind the shed. “And she’s super affectionate. She loves scratches behind the ears.” Lily tested such claim and Lamby bleated happily, shaking her head and bumping her hands to ask for more. 

Sunny shook her head as she said, “There… We can’t… You-” She looked at Cannoli and Holly and gestured at the lamb with her face extremely tense as she kept her eyes on the lamb in case she tried to run to her. “I think what Sunny is trying to say is, where are we going to keep the… lamb? We certainly can’t keep them, and-” Allin interrupts the pinkette with a raised hand, “What are you talking about? We are keeping her.” The four paused and slowly looked at the healer. Staring at him as if he was crazy. 

“What?” He asked, adjusting his grip on his crutch. “You… You can’t be serious?” Sunny hisses. Allin scrunches his nose as he says, “Well, I’m not joking. She’s been working with me well and she’s been great. It's like a dog but with hooves.” He argues. “And with two heads.” Lily adds as she stands up. She dusts off her nightgown and crosses her arms loosely, looking to the lamb who resettles on the grass and looks up at the five with her heads tilting left to the right. “I mean, she’s adorable. I would love to look at her more and even get a vet to say what would be the best course of action but Sunny is right. She doesn’t belong here.”

Allin snaps his head to the mage and retorts, “Oh? Where does she belong? A slaughterhouse?” The white-haired woman raised her hands up in surrender and shook her head furiously. Cannoli sighs deeply and says, “I think what Lily means is that the lamb belongs to some place where she can live to the fullest. Not here. Where anything can kill her.” Allin rolls his eyes, “Or we can keep her in the manor.” Sunny shouts from the shed, “ABSOLUTELY NOT!” The blonde looks at her and says, “She’s not going to eat our clothes.” Holly shakes her head as she gestures to the manor, “I’m agreeing with Goldie on this. It’s a lamb . It belongs to a herd. Not inside like a cat.” 

Allin responds, “She’ll be targeted by the herd. Wolves will come after her. She might die if she is with a herd. At least here, she’ll have a chance to live!” The dark-haired lover shakes his head, “It’s a farm animal! It doesn’t belong in the house! What made you think we’ll allow a farm animal in a house for humans?” Allin turns to the taller one and feels his chest stutter. 

Did they think this was a choice? Did they assume that they would have a say in whether the lamb would be allowed to stay in the house or not? How ironic. “Oh? Cannoli, tell me,” Allin retorts, his face starts to bloom in a dark shade of red, and with a furious scowl, his voice rises- snapping like a firecracker, “What makes you think you have a choice in this? Might I remind all of you,” he snarls, snapping his head to look at the girls as he jabs a finger at the house. “That manor is mine. It is in my name. It’s not your house. It’s MINE! So if I say that the lamb can stay, she can stay.”Lily frowns while Holly tries to retort, but Sunny beats her to the punch, “Last I checked, there were five of us in this relationship!” 

Allin roars at her with his eyes pinpricked, “ Last I checked, you four fucked off and left me alone to pick up the pieces!”

All four flinch; Lily backs away while Holly takes a step back, Midnight rears his body back, and Sunny flinches behind the shed. All four stare with wide eyes. They haven’t heard the blonde snap like that before, none of them have seen the blonde medic viciously defend, much less, roar with such anger. But to point out the truth, how blunt and real it was, it left the air to be filled with more tension than any of them can deal with. Allin isn’t finished, he’s not letting his feelings bubble like this again, he’s going to bottle up his fury like he has been since the beginning of this awful month. 

“You four left me alone in a room with a cold bed and lacking the lovers I thought I was going to spend everyday with! I spent a month of my life waiting for you four to communicate with me what you needed to make that damned house a home because I certainly had no idea! I don’t know how to make it a home for the five of us. I haven’t lived here since I was an infant! You think I’m doing so well?- Handling all the things that my deceased father had? You think I’m doing well ? And to top the boiling pot with the four lovers who promised to support me through this nightmare of a house! So excuse me , for trying to make this place a space we all can enjoy!” He feels his eyes water, he wants to cry but not to cry from anguish- out of frustration. 

He has not been able to deal with this noise in his head since the four started to give him the cold shoulder. He can’t handle loneliness, he can’t handle it- he’s learned that he needs people to enjoy life. Cici needed him until the elder could learn to live with other people. The roommates became his saving grace just as the four lovers have become his life and joy. Now there was an infant that made his life a little better while the four were absent from his life. Now that the four were here, was it wrong for him to want to share that love the little lamb has with them?

“You know what…?” He snips, closing his eyes and stepping back, making his path away from the four. “You four can just mess around and do what you want. I’m going to try and calm myself down before I say something I’ll regret.” He turns away and whistles, Lamby sits up and trots after Allin, following him into the forest as the blonde limps away, finally letting the tears fall from his eyes and leaving the four lovers behind. 

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It’s nightfall by the time Holly finds Allin in the shed. She wasn’t sure what told her that he would be in the shed when she went out looking for him. After the blonde walked off, the four returned to the house and sat down. There was a long, heavy discussion about the situation. Midnight admitted that there might be more boiling emotions under Allin’s skin and what they got was just a snippet. The four discussed, long into the afternoon and finally coming to a conclusion in the early evening- they would let the lamb run free and they would contribute to helping the lamb become a legal service animal for the one-legged lover. 

The next challenge was waiting for the blonde lover to return with a lamb in his stead. They waited until the sun set and the four then felt worried. Holly offered to search the property first, she was the best one to handle overwhelming emotions, her hands and arms were always willing to wrap around anyone’s shoulder and hold them close. To reassure them of whatever demons dare to haunt them. She kisses her smaller lover and tells him how much they want to fix the hole they had made in their trust with him. 

How they want to work with him in making that two-headed lamb a member of their family. She wants him to see and feel the love they have for him. But for that to happen, she has to find him first. The shed’s door is slightly ajar and when she peaks in, she almost sighs in relief. He was safe and resting gently in a pile of blankets with the lamb on his lap. The woman knocks on the door and opens it, she makes her steps slow and deliberate, so as to not startle the lover or the lamb. Her caution would be unneeded as the lamb stays asleep and the blonde only raises his head to meet with the spinel eyes of the other. 

Holly pauses her steps, she sees the redness in the heterochromic eyes, the smallest stutters of the body with the chest shakily rising and lowering, and the hands that subtly shake as he continues to pet the side of the lamb. The woman wonders if Allin is about to snap but when she looks at him more, she feels like this reaction is more than just him being angry. 

She recalls this emotion was present when the five had first moved in, when they were cleaning out the attic when they all first moved in, the blonde explained that they just needed to move things off to the side and when everyone saw how cluttered the attic was, it was a demand that Allin needed to sort through things to either donate or keep. 

It was… A rough few days. Allin outright refused to go into the attic and at first, everyone gave him space. He nor his brother have been in the manor since they were small so seeing so many things of their past that they don’t or couldn’t remember was jarring. All four agreed. Let Allin take his time to adapt to the new place and then they’ll work on the attic. But after two weeks, with everyone tripping over boxes and stubbing their toes, they confronted the blonde to start donating or else they’ll do it for him. 

Allin initially looked guilty, curling in on himself as he quietly admitted that he wasn’t sure if he could go through the things in the attic. His older brother had a concept of what was important and what was garbage, he was afraid to toss anything that was important. 

The four understood, Holly understood, their lover never got to live in a place of mystery and joyous adventurers, he was confined to his brother’s side and he never got to live his life. She understood. The four decided to sort through the things and if they find something that could be important, they’ll ask Allin and the older brother would be in a call to confirm or deny that item’s importance. 

The first few boxes were full of picture frames, old and used books from school, and there were some treasures that the four did keep for themselves. For example; Lily found a limited edition of nature books that were apparently so rare that each book goes for half-a-million per book, Sunny found jewelry that is far too expensive and pretty to be collecting dust, Cannoli apparently found a Hwando sword in the rubble, and Holly found intricate wine glasses that supposed come from the Dark Ages of Medieval times.

There were some clothes that Sunny got dressed in to make the lovers giggle. It was all fun and games until Lily found a box full of old baby toys, she asked if they should keep them and all said it would be best to send it to a family who would use the toys. Lily had set the box away and she tossed more boxes on top of the toys, Sunny had then found a small plush. “Ewwww, look at how old this thing is!” She sneered as she tossed the rotting and gross plush at Lily who squealed and ducked behind Holly. The plush thumped on the dusty floor and the Korean man rolled his eyes, he leaned down and pinched the doll to pick it up. 

A spider must’ve crawled off the plush because he then tossed it at Sunny who screeched like a banshee and smacked the doll away from her. The doll rolled over and landed nearby Allin who laughed softly at all their reaction. Holly slowly picked up the doll and asked if they could toss it. There was a growing pile of garbage that they were going to drive to the dump 90 miles from the manor to dump. Everyone chimed in agreement and Allin finally looked over to the doll as Holly swung the doll around, slowly inching it to Sunny’s face.

The golden avian screeched again and smacked the pinkette who accidently threw the doll towards Allin. The blonde chuckled and leaned down, but when he looked at the plush, he froze. He was staring at the doll and no one noticed how his expression was down-turned and he slowly picked up the old thing- rubbing his thumb over the worn white fabric. The four were giggling and Lily walked over to take the old thing away from Allin, but, as she reached for the doll that Allin had picked up, the blonde rounded and snapped at her. “BACK OFF!” He snarled. The shout was enough for everyone to freeze and Lily to flinch.

She froze in place, a shock for the blonde to snap. But when they looked at him, they saw the tears in his eyes and Holly wondered if they overstepped with the joking. That would be the same emotion the blonde shows now. That fury in his eyes, the pinch of his brows while his body curls like a wounded animal trying to flee from a hunter. The slightly redness of his eyes peak with tears as the chest heaves a broken song that only the blonde can hear in the rush of blood in the ears.  Lily must’ve clocked it in and she quietly apologized. The healer started to slowly relax his posture, flinching gently as if he had done something wrong for reacting in such a way, and he looked at the sheep, both hands rubbing over the sheep’s matted and rotted fur, it wasn’t too long before he started to weep.

His cries echoed in the attic like a gong of a bell, echoing in each their hearts and soul. Everything was placed on hold as they surrounded him with hugs and quiet apologies. Holly saw how tightly the healer was gripping onto the plush. It was beyond saving but yet, the plush still sits in a box in the attic. Untouched and waiting for someone to play with them. Allin has the same look that he carried when hovering over the doll. But this expression looks more broken. As if he lost something that made his life see light. “Sunshine?” She whispers, taking a step forward.  The blonde lowers his eyes to the lamb and he peels his lips back. 

But instead of breaking out into a fit of rage, he lets out a soulful cry of despair. “She- she just stopped breathing and- and I didn’t want-” He closes his eyes and the tears gush like a waterfall. The pinkette is quick to kneel and pull the blonde into her arms. “Hush, hush… Shh, shh, shh, sh. It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here.” She hushes gently as she sits on her knees. Hugging the medic close as he sobs loudly. 

The pinkette lowered her eyes to see if the two-headed lamb was awake yet but she saw sheep not moving. Her chest wasn’t going up or down. She was still. Suddenly, Holly understood and pulled the blonde closer. She tucks his head into her neck while her hands rub his spine, his tears stain her collarbone and collect on the collar of her nightgown, but she doesn’t care. Her only mission is to comfort the lover in her arms, who curls into her frame and sobs a storm the Elemental Heroes would envy. 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. It’s alright, I’m here. I’m so, so sorry, Sunshine.” She whispered in his ears. She started to rock her body, rolling his to and fro, trying to unwind the body from its crouched position, her hands gracefully rubbing his spine from the tension that is surely building up, “I- I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I- I didn’t mean it. I- I’m so sorry.” He sobbed. 

Holly hushed him again and pressed a kiss to his head, trying her best to keep him close, to show him that she was here and she was going to stay there until he said otherwise. He continued to break at the seams, his body unraveling at her fingertips while he tried to inhale a gush of air. Only choking on the air and then letting the tears pool around his hands as he tried to look away from the lifeless body of the lamb. The other woman frowned and closed her eyes, she shifted her weight to be sitting while her arms pulled the medic to her bulk, effectively hiding him from the view of his lamb. “I’m so sorry, Sunshine. I’m so, so sorry.” She whispers as she presses kisses to the temple of the healer. 

He gags for a second and lets his body fall limp like a doll in Holly’s arms. He doesn’t even try to stand or speak, he just lets his body and emotions pool out of him in waves upon soul-crushing waves. The pink-haired woman sits there, holding her lover while keeping an eye on the body of the lamb and the door, half expecting one of the lovers to come in to see if they were in the shed. Yet, it seems that the other three were being smart and giving the two some time. Allin’s sobs have started to trail off, his hiccups echo in the room, and his grip on the pinkette loosens as he pulls away from her chest, shakily wiping his eyes. 

“Hey love,” She coos softly, her own hands cupping his cheeks and rubbing her thumbs over his face to flick away the stray tears. “Hi…” He mumbled back as he sniffled. She sees his eyes pull away from her own and try to look at the lifeless body of the lamb, the lover is quick to reorient his attention to her as her mouth presses into a firm pity look. “Don’t… It’s only… It’ll make it worse.” She says gently, her hands dropping to the shoulders of the blonde. “But I- she… She- I need to”- Holly leans down to bring him back to her, “We can bury her. But for now… the other three want to make sure you’re safe. They’ll bury her with you. We’ll bury her in the morning.” Allin tries to open his mouth to argue, to urge the burial to be now, but he pauses. He sees the sorrowful look in Holly’s eyes, he realizes that he needs sleep. 

He needs his lovers by his side tonight. He can’t sleep alone. 

“Okay… Okay- okay-okay”- he starts to fumble out as he shuts his eyes, the tears seemingly ready to rise again. Holly hushes the blonde again and helps him stand, she hands him the crutch and gently drapes a blanket over the lamb, her hands giving the lamb the last pets they’ll get for the night, and then she assists the medic out of the shed. She closed the door and pressed her hand against the spine of the other. Both taking their time to walk into the house where Sunny was on the phone with someone and Lily was curled by the ravenette’s side. 

The three were nestled in the den of the kitchen, draping over the sofa while the avian paced, her wings bound to her back out of nerves and when Holly opened the sliding glass door, all three came to attention to see if she was successful. “Hold on, he’s back. Apologies for bothering.” Sunny hurriedly says as she hangs up the call and hurries over to check on Allin who looks all but beaten-down and curled in on himself. “Sunshine, Sunflower- where have you been?” The canary stressed as she came to his face, her hands cupping his cheeks and trying to make eye contact with the other. 

“Goldie, my beloved sun, easy…” Holly gently commands. The ravenette takes in the shuffled appearance of the blonde and looks at the ruby-eyed mage. The woman who knew Allin’s emotions better than him, she was staring, when she looked at Holly- there was some snap of fingers that finally flicked the switch in Lily’s mind and the earthly mage stepped around the avian to hug the blonde close. Whispering soft reassurance and condolences, the other two looked at the pinkette as she sighed. 

“The lamb.” She says. Sunny has this click in her mind and she’s expanding her wings over the hugging couple. Cannoli furrows his brow and stands there, unable to gauge whether he should take part in the hug or if he should give space. He doesn’t want to give space to the blonde, he wants to anchor the medic to the world, and keep him secured around the home. Make sure his lover won’t fall off into “the deep end”. The garnet eyes meet with the strawberry topaz eyes. The larger lover offers her hands to the taller and the two embrace the blonde. 

That seems to do the trick because he’s weeping and sobbing all over again. 

The four stay around the medic, holding him close and whispering soft words to his ears while also holding him close. His cries are swallowed by the arms and kisses the grieving lover, he curls into their embrace, and he feels their arms tense around him as his leg starts to wiggle like jelly. The mage of white lilies tucks her head on the top of the blonde strands and she says, “Let’s go to bed… We can have a burial in the morning…”

The five slowly make their way up the stairs, the retired healer stops at the stairs and starts to navigate his crutch to go up the stairs, but he’s quickly swooped off his feet as he is carried by the ravenette. The motions blur his vision and he doesn’t stop to lean into the embrace, letting the colors blur together and for him to fall into a darkening void of warmth and love. He doesn’t even register the soft quilts wrapping around his frame, the dips of the bed as he’s laid down and the four bodies falling into the shared embrace to surround him. 

It seems to be enough for him to start to cry again. But not out of grief or hurt, it was the feeling of his heart finally settling down. Since the start of the month, the four have been drifting apart and thus, leaving him behind to pick up the pieces of the poly. His heart shattered like puzzle pieces and his poor attempts to try and get the puzzle back together. To feel the pairs of arms wrapped around him, secure and holding him together like he was too fragile to let go. And perhaps, his emotions were like a fragile vase that was ready to shatter with the small breeze brushing against him. 

But he has this feeling that the puzzle pieces will be back together and when they break, he finds the embrace he is trapped in to be more like glue, something he will need for the future if this occurs again.

Chapter Text

This had to be some cosmic joke.

A universal joke that was played on her because why not!?

The building was as tall as the sky, intimidating anyone who dares wander into the space or the perimeter of the building if they didn’t know what the tower was and what it represents. She had to be dreaming. Or maybe she pissed off her ancestors or maybe she made them pleased? She wasn’t sure what was happening. 

The tower of white and stormy gray was a “beacon” in a sense for the Desctrutives in the city. The Iris Law and Business Corporation was a split between two very competitive careers; one handling the law aspects of the Destructives involved with court or getting legal advice, and the other half essentially the “bank” for Destructives and meant for Destructives. Hell, Sun has an account with the bank that gets most of its funding from donations and employees from Iris Law and Business. She was sure that anyone in this city would be a part of a bank or any branch of a bank that is associated or works under the company. 

Sun was sure that she was hallucinating. Her company reached out and offered her a job, since most Mandarin translators went overseas- she was one of three who stayed in-land, not that overseas would be bad but … she didn’t do well on planes. She has an uneasy feeling when she’s in the air. The email came through two days prior from one of the other translators, (Fancie, if she remembered correctly) she was begging for Sun to take the job because she was going to attend a last minute funeral and Sun wasn’t going to say no to some extra money so she took the job. 

She should’ve looked closer at the listing because now she’s staring at the towering giant of steel and glass, wondering if she either pissed off the afterlife or if luck was turning to her side. Despite her apathetic nature she displays on the outside, internally, she felt very watched. Everyone around her was dressed in business or lawyer attire; sharp suits, chatting on a phone with jargon she can’t catch, and all clean cut for the building that seems more like a gate of the Heavens. 

Her phone buzzed and her usual composed self was scrambling to pull up the phone and see who was texting, her thumb unlocked the screen and the text messages were lighting and buzzing her phone up. Most were from the group chat- wishing her a good day of work and reminding her to eat in between meetings, there was one solo message to her from Cici and it was just a reminder that he was going to pick her up from the building when she finished around three pm. The pale woman sighed and looked back to the tower. She… Might as well get this over with. 

Entering the building was easy; walk through the sliding doors, find the main desk, inform her of her visit, and get a shiny badge with golden-leaf letters pressed into the badge with the title, “INTERPRETER/TRANSLATOR”. She was directed to walk down the hall next to the main desk, press the button for the top floor and then speak with the secretary to inform the client that she had arrived. Seems simple. 

Sun walked through the hall, covered in ivory tiles and the walls painted an off-gray color with small plants decorating the floor every seven tiles. The doors of the elevator were gold, a shiny but gentle shade of gold, and when the doors opened, she was hit with the smell of lavender. There was a gentleman in the elevator, wearing a courtier service uniform. “Which floor?” He asked in a monotone but high-pitched voice. “Ah- the top floor.” Sun showed her newly acquired badge and the elevator was going up. Everything felt like it was fast. Sun wasn’t sure if she just disassociated or if her body is moving on auto-pilot, the hairs on her hairs were rising as a shiver threatened to run down her spine. 

She tried to focus her attention on the panel and did a double-take. “Isn’t it bad luck for a building to have a 13th floor?” She inquired, her eyes shifting to the elevator man. “M’yes but the Boss has inquired “good luck” for this elevator to have no harm done to the 13th floor.” Sun blinked and thought it best to not say anything. But internally she was asking what was happening. The ride to the top was easy and soon, the doors opened, revealing a long hallway with the tiles now ivory with gold smaller tiles leading to a pair of doors that she had to assume was where the secretary desk was. 

“Your floor, ma’am.” Sun bowed to the man and stepped out. The doors closed and this time, the shiver shot down her spine without much resistance. It wasn’t cold, just unsettling. But what made her feel a little less safe was the walls, made of complete glass. She wants to call out and walk away- or at least call one of her roommates but her professionalism just snipped back, “Do you want to fail this job?” And she was forcing herself to walk without looking at the ground below. She refused to look down, she does not want to look down and see the horror of the ground below. She doesn't have a fear of heights, but an intrusive fear of falling out from the floors despite her feet physically planting themselves one foot in front of the other. 

The golden doors stood like a wall only willing to fall if the master behind the door was willing. She knows that behind the golden doors was a man who not only carved a path for Destructives to live and therefore, have a better chance of living, but also was a symbol for the injustice of the city. Some admire, some shame, some want them dead but Sun knows that he has power in high places (literally and metaphorically). Sun paused at the doors to check herself over, usually, she wouldn’t be this nervous but she met this man only once and it was when she wasn’t professionally dressed for a job. 

She smoothed out her long black skirt and combed a strand of loose hair behind her ear, her hands pressing on the doors and pushing them open was like pushing a leaf away from your table. Despite the golden doors looking heavy, they gave way quickly for her to see the lobby room. One long desk was before her with a woman sitting at the desk, typing away at her computer. The room itself was small but there was enough space in the room for four long sofas, three coffee tables, a desk with a coffee table and a kettle, and finally a decently sized bookshelf with literature ranging from history, to business, to politics, almost every genre was in that bookshelf. (Although Aphrodite would complain about the lack of romance. That woman’s taste is something else). 

Sun stepped to the desk and the woman behind the counter looked up, “Interpreter?” She asked, her voice nasally and her olive eyes sharpening on Sun. The pale woman nods and reaches to show her badge but the lady’s long golden nails flash, her hand motions the other to sit, “Take a seat and wait until you are called up by Apollo. He’ll take you to the meeting room. Help yourself to coffee or tea.” The pale interpreter stood for a second then beelined to a seat on one of the sofas. She was… put-off by the sudden shift of the room, rather than a quiet and almost tranquil space- it was clouded with tension and a rubber band that was being stretched far too thin. It was an uncomfortable silence that fell over the two, so Sun decided to look around the room to see what she could observe about Ivis. 

When she realized that she would be translating a business deal, she had to sign an NDA and confidential papers, a very common thing to do, and when she read who she was hired by- her hands scrambled to fetch the heavy business card she had gotten earlier. In February, she was given a card by a silver man with topaz eyes- offering her and her roommate protection if they were in any danger. She rubbed the pad of her thumb over the gold-leaf lettering and when she decided to take precautions with this assignment, she did something she had never done before. 

She asked for help. 

She went to Cici, who would seem like he would be the least reliable for information. Sal or Aphrodite would have sufficed but she didn’t want the pinkette to charm her way into sneaking in a microphone, and Sal wasn’t available at the moment so, Cici was the best bet. She was very blunt and the designer was very quick to help her research. Iris Ivis was a descendant of the original Dragon Clan before it turned to evil paths, they were very stern, and very vocal about poorer areas of the city that housed the most Destructives. 

“He donated to a bunch of charities, hosted events to sponsor schools, even contributed to a funeral for …” He paused. Sun turned to him and noticed how his eyes were staring at a photo of a newspaper clipping with the taller silver man kneeling at a propped portrait of a man who Sun didn’t recognize. “Sorry-” Cici closed his laptop and turned to Sun, “If anything- I think it’s going to be a simple meeting. It’s just you translating Mandarin to English, right?”

The woman nods and he shrugs, “You’ll be fine. Just make sure he doesn’t flirt with you.” Cici jokes. While Sun rolled her eyes at the time, that didn’t stop her from looking up interviews and press conferences to get a sense of what the guy wants for her job and she certainly was intrigued by the dragon. They stood tall with their topaz eyes always bright with vigor and sharp when they looked at the person speaking, she watched him step aside for other speakers to speak their piece about charities or bringing awareness to a side of people that many reject or outcast. Sun will be honest, she’s sort of excited to work for someone who is so willing to hire her but to also have a connection to her via their profession is towards helping Destructives. 

There were times when she wished she had the support that Iris was giving to the community. She wonders if they ever had someone “put a hit on them” because of their association. From her knowledge, Ivis was always vocal about the betterment of Destructive and they provided the best care when the city lacked it. She remembers hearing about them and their rise to fame, how they were the last of the original Dragon Clan, how they were raised in the city’s foster system, and how they were spared from the Ivory Dragon’s destruction when they first awakened. 

Many people assumed that Ivis and the Ivory Dragon had an alliance but that rumor was quickly disproven by the media. Sun was one of the few who knew that Ivis and Ivory Dragon were not in truce but she did think that if the two were to be in a truce, it would create a greater power to combat the politicians of the city. Sun curses the politics of this city- it's so much worse than her government back home. 

Sun sits upright as she folds her hands in her lap, her bag off to the side as she counts her breaths. She refuses to take out her phone for the betterment of her own professionalism. She felt as though if she took her phone out while waiting for the job to start, she felt she would be perceived as “inpatient” or “bored”. Two things she never wanted to be associated with. Counting her breaths, she inhaled as quietly as her body would allow it, and exhaled as softly as she could muster. She counted slowly and allowed her mind to gently run through the rules of her translating. 

She counted 42 breaths when the doors across the room opened. Rather than a perm-press suit and tie, a taller man with golden hair and leather biker jacket held the doors open and made direct eye contact with Sun. “You the translator?” He called. His voice echoed in the small room, enough for Sun to feel the tension of the room thicken and with her head nodding, she stood and tended to the door. The golden-haired person was certainly taller than her, perhaps as tall as Sal if the guy didn’t slouch. The golden man nodded his head to follow. Their leather jacket was open, revealing a wrinkled white shirt with a faded Coke-A-Cola brand on the center, their jeans were torn and their posture was just slouched. As if they were annoyed to be assisting her around the halls. The hall she entered was similar to the one she entered once she got off the elevator. Simple off color gray walls, black and gold tiles, and then a sharp left revealed a massive glass box. 

The three walls forward and the sides were all glass, overlooking the city with the sun glaring hatefully at the glass. But it seemed so miniscule compared to the silver man in the room. They were sitting at the head of a long table, the shine of the desk seemed like it was made of marble and ivory stone. The golden male besides Sun grunted, “Ivis. The interpreter is here.” The topaz eyes didn’t give a glance while they raised their hand, long and pale with nails as sharp and pointed as knives, waved off the other. “Thank you Apollo, make sure Rhea isn’t going to break something today. I would like to keep the babysitter we have assigned. They seem competent.” 

Apollo grunts and spins on their heel, “Good luck.” They mutter. Whether that was to Sun or the boss, she wasn’t sure. And it didn’t help settle her nerves. The only two beings stood in perfect silence, the only sound was the soft scratch of an ink pen marking papers while the boss lazily glanced over the papers. Sun wondered if they recognized her, the card that they gave her was heavy in her purse. She isn’t sure why she kept it but she wanted to hold onto it. As if it would be a reminder to her about the first encounter she had with a “celebrity”.

Does Ivis consider themselves to be a celebrity? They are popular with the Destructives and with the middle to lower classes, they are popular on many levels and not the type to dwell on the hypocrisy of gossip. Sure, they would indulge a reporter but then that report would turn from a gossip column about their “romantic life” to one about the struggles that the poor class has to deal with. They had that kind of influence on the media. 

“You may set your bag off onto the table. Collect a pen and a pad of paper. I’ll try not to ask you to take notes but I may need a synopsis of what the company wants. They are very particular about numbers.” Ivis instructed. Sun closes her eyes and moves to the side, her hands do not shake as she pulls out a pen and pad of paper. She always has one on hand. Her fingers did drift over her wallet, a half-second insecurity of her wallet being stolen crossed her mind but she pushed it away. Instead, she grabbed her aid and tucked it into her pocket. 

Luckily, all aids have the ability to shrink or grow to the correct size. She is lucky, Radley and Sal had to deal with their aids to stay at home- which means that they can’t be near anything sharp. Radley often complained about how he needed to ask coworkers to help him cut things or Sal would furiously curse out customers when they were rude to him when he couldn’t cut something. 

Sun considered herself lucky in that her aid could shrink. She isn’t sure how Ivis would react upon seeing her aid hovering over her. She turned back to the marble-like table and the pale male waved her over, “Please take a seat. I’ll explain what I need from this meeting.” Sun took in the twelve chairs on each side of the table and decided to take the third chair away from Ivis. It was enough space for them to sort out papers but it would also be closer to the other clients when they came in. 

As she sat, she straightened her posture and turned her head to look at the other. Her hands were clasped and settled in her lap. The scratching over the pen intensified for a moment until the pen made a sharp whip across the paper, the boss collected the paper into one pile and set it off to their right. “Now then. You already read the-”

For once, the silver man looked up. Topaz eyes met closed ones. Sun finally opened her eyes to look at the other and was surprised to find them mirroring her expression. Both stared; Sun was unsure if they were trying to remember her name or if they recognized her, she saw the honeyed eyes take in her face and then with a blink, they crossed their arms and leaned back in their chair. Their head tilted as they asked, “I was not expecting to see you again.” They admitted. 

Sun nods, closing her eyes. “The original translator asked me to take the job due to a familial situation.” The silver man nodded, their arms uncrossing as they gestured to her, “I remember seeing the paperwork refiled. I believed that the original was merely having another on the job. But I suppose I should’ve read the files more closely.” They dropped their eyes to the pad of paper and then back to Sun’s face. “I don’t believe I caught your name when we met last. Your friend was… busy.” So they do remember her. 

“Yes, Aphrodite was causing a scene. But for the better. My name is Sun.” She introduced, her hand coming out to shake as the boss reached out the same, “Ivis, but, you know this already. Tell me, how is your friend? She’s safe after the whole incident, yes?” Sun nods and adds, “Yes. Aphrodite is fine. If anything, she found it amusing that it even happened. In this day of age, none of us thought that it would happen. She told our roommates about the whole ordeal, they found it equally amusing.”

The silver man nodded, their honey eyes glazing over as they asked with an amused smile, “Did you mock the man?” Sun scoffs, “Yes. We all mocked him. Found out recently he was fired from his job because of the incident.” It was a recent development that Radley had found while scrolling on his phone, he yelled for the pinkette and when she came out, ruffled and annoyed from being rudely awoken from her daily nap, he showed her the video and the countless people reacting to the video. She was suddenly up and laughing at the man as he was escorted away. But in clear view, you could see Aphrodite being taken to the bathroom and Ivis approaching Sun off to the side. 

“Good. Good. No one deserves such a thing to happen.” Sun nods. She did find Ivis to be a sympathetic soul. One that understood the struggles that Desctructives lived through, it was theorized that Ivis was a Destructive themselves but that claim had gone nowhere when it first surfaced. “If you don’t mind my prying,” they asked, pulling Sun away from her thoughts, “Are you a Destructive? Your friend certainly made me think she was a Destructive but I was unsure about yourself.” Sun hums as her right hand drifts to her pocket to fiddle with her aid. 

She almost wanted to pull it out and show it to the man but she pulled back. “Yes. In my filing for this job, I have to list myself as a Destructive. I have my aid on hand so there is no worry for me “losing control” as most clients say.” The silver man leaned forward, interlocking their fingers together as they leaned on the desk, “If it is not too much to pry, may I see your aid and know about your power?” For some Destructives, this would be too forward. 

Sun has heard horror stories from friends and even her roommates of people who are too forward about a Destructive. Sal had told them one night about a time when he was horse-back riding (yes, Aphrodite and Cici begged the Frenchman to take them to the ranch where he practiced to see the horses) and the instructor was too curious about Sal. Asking him about his power, his aid, and everything a Destructive was told was a bad idea to tell. Sal, being only 13, simply explained. After that, the coach was harsher on him- pushing him and the horse to the limit, and overall, treating him poorly. 

Sal told his parents and they pulled him and the horse out of the ranch. Turned out, the coach was trying to anger Sal to attack or harm someone so the coach could call a Hero to “deal with a Destructive”. Sal explained that he was sent to a different ranch and he was better off in the current one rather than the original. While it wasn’t a horror story, the implications of what could have happened if Sal wasn’t so damn patient would’ve meant hell for him in the future. 

For Sun, she could simply ask the silver man to not ask but then again, they were one of the few people in the city with enough power to make a change for people like her. Sun wordlessly pulled out her aid and made it the appropriate size, the leaves stretched out with the petals of the lotus blooming. “This aid is designed to help me keep my power in check. It’s often referred to as “Foggy Apathy”. An accurate name.” The aid began to work its job and it began to levitate. The silver man cupped their hand under the flower and began to play a small back-and-forth with it. 

“And your power?” They asked. Sun shifted and pulled her shoulders back, “My power is the ability to turn anything into dust.” The little game stops and the honey topaz looks at her. Sun opened her eyes this time, to gauge the reaction of the male, and to her surprise, they looked curious rather than frightful. “Is that right? So you have the ability to touch anything- and it will turn to dust?” They clarified. Sun nodded, keeping her face blank but her mind was trying to pick up the speed. Many don’t… look at her with such curiosity. Most of her life was filled with sharp yells and cruel stares at her when she walked the halls of her secondary school. Her sibling would curl in her arms as she listened to her parents bicker and yell about her situation and how she was a shame to the family name. 

She had long learned that her fate in the world was to be ridiculed and shamed. She was a monster who walked among mortals, titans that could easily overpower her with a snap of their hands, gods and ancestors shame her from the afterlife. Disgusted by her inability to hold the family name. To uphold the family dynasty. 

To see someone who looks at her with such naivety, it makes her homesick. 

“Yes. I can turn anything into dust. Although, I get to choose whether or not I want to. Most assume I just have the inability to control my power but in actuality, I can control it. But…” She trails off, holding her tongue back. She doesn’t want to get political. She doesn’t want to talk about the things Destructives go through to someone who already knows. And she doesn’t want to tell this man about her family troubles. She already has to deal with that on her own, she doesn’t need to share it with the silver man. Ivis looked at her, their eyes meeting hers, and she felt as if they could see her thoughts and soul. As if they could see her past and future. Their golden eyes clung onto her as her aid floated to her, hovering over her shoulder. 

“You don’t need to fear your opinion on the matter of your aid or others. Believe me, I have had worse people come in here and claim that I’m “wasting my money” on the people who need it.” Sun nearly scoffs, not surprising that someone would be so bold to tell the single man in the city with the most power and connections that they were putting their money in the wrong place. The silver man looked at the clock and clicked their tongue. “A moment, I must inquire where our guests are.” They stood, bowing their head to her before leaving. 

But that didn’t stop Sun from noticing the gold hair pin shaped like a Chinese dragon in their hair. Her mind curiously supplied, ‘Perhaps that is their aid.’ For some reason, Sun felt more relaxed upon seeing the pin. Maybe the rumor about Ivis being a Destructive was reassuring her, more maybe seeing a pin that her mother wore made her feel more at peace. Sun sat in that massive for at most, five minutes, before the door opened and a long, deep sigh echoed the room. “I fear that your trip here was unnecessary. The other company decided to reschedule their meeting without informing me. My sincerest apologies,” Sun stood, pushing the chair back as she rounded around the furniture to face the taller. 

“It’s alright. It was still nice to see this place in person. I hear so many rumors about how glamorous it is, I’m sure to verify the rumors.” She offered in a joking manner. She was bummed that she wouldn’t be paid for the hours she would’ve put in for the meeting but at least she was getting paid for the hour she stayed. “Surely, there is something else you can do. I highly doubt you have another client this late in the day.” Sun frowned and thought, ‘It’s only noon?’

Sun offered a small smile, a professional one she always gave when she didn’t want to spend anymore time, or waste anymore time. She could go home and finish that shawl she’s been working on. The silver boss tilted their head as they gestured to her person, “Are you hungry? There is a restaurant here.” Sun blinks and as she opens her mouth to reject, the silver man adds, “And I could still use your services. I do need an opinion on a matter that you might have more knowledge in than I do.” 

‘Are they asking me on a date or interrogating me?’ Sun questioned wildly. 

Ivis was a nice person, really, they are refined and they have this aura of elegance that makes Sun slightly swoon (she’ll never admit to Aphrodite OR Cici. They’ll never let her live it down) but surely, she wouldn’t accept this offer. Surely. She’ll just gently decline and say that she needs to catch a bus or her roommate will be picking her up. An excuse to get away from this very refined and possibly Destructive who is being so nice to her. 

Yes. She needs to leave. She has things to do.

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“The caviar-filled oyster shells are very nice. I believe they were imported fresh this early afternoon.” Ivis chimes as they look over the menu. Sun only hummed while berating herself harshly in her mind. The “restaurant” that the boss had mentioned wasn’t just a space to eat, it was a five-star heaven of food for all employees. Ivis apparently liked to spoil his employees and they all got one free meal from the place. Sun doesn’t even see prices on the menu. She doesn’t want to know how much this would cost outside of the building, it would more than likely take up her whole paycheck even if she worked for a solid month with a bonus. 

“Ah, the dumplings are also very good. Haven’t had those in some time.” Ivis mused, blinking slowly as they continued to scan over the menu. Sun wanted to dip, she was not prepared for this kind of interaction between a powerful boss and her person who barely understands the politics of the city. She is NOT the best person to be sitting here and talking to this man. “What are you thinking? I feel like the dumpling would be a great start for an appetizer.” Sun scrambled ehr eyes to find anything of “normalcy” on the menu to seem like she was very professional and not losing her mind internally to a war of ‘why am I here?’ and ‘why did I agree to this?’

“I will get the dumplings as well. They look nice.” She agreed. Closing the menu at the same time the silver man sitting across from her also closed his menu. This seemed to be the “signal” for a waiter to come by, take both orders, and scurry off to input them, maybe put a rush on the order so the boss wouldn’t have to wait for a long time. ‘The servers and hosts must get wonderful tips from working here. Probably better pay.’ Sun hummed to herself as she sipped her water. 

“Tell me,” the silver man started, slowly lifting their eyes from the water on their right to the closed eyes of the interpreter, “What made you go into the business of translating? Especially taking on two languages to interpret for?” A rather mild and simple question, but it was expected. Most people to ask this are genuinely curious or merely find themselves invested in the smooth movements of Sun’s hands or translating tongue. For Sun, it was a matter of making money to keep herself afloat in a capitalist country. “I was originally born in the People’s Republic, more specifically the Changsa providence. My family has been loyal Buddists of the Eight Temples. But they mostly guard and protect the sacred temples now.”

Ivis nods, their hands folding on the table with their elbows tightly crunched to their side. They keep their honeyed eyes on her, knowing that there was more, but Sun quickly skips over the parts that would add more “fluff” to her backstory. “My first language was Mandarin, then I learned English. Came to the States, and then I was introduced to sign language and I got my registered license in both languages, got interviewed for a company, and now, here I am.” She doesn’t want to tell the man about the temple of cold stones, how her knees ache whenever she prayed and begged for the Buddah to deliver a blessing. 

She doesn’t want this boss to know anything about her home. About her sibling. As much as this meeting was a “spur of the moment”, she doesn’t want this power-house of a man to have a say over what her work will become, she doesn’t want this silver man to know about her issues. She was already dealing with them at home with her parents, she’s already trying to hold a steady face in front of her roommates, and she certainly doesn't want to break in front of this man. 

“Fascinating. And, if you don’t mind telling me, how did your parents react to your power? Are they also Destructives?” If only. Maybe if her parents were in her shoes, then maybe they wouldn’t have sent her away as soon as they did. They didn’t want her to “influence” her sibling to follow her “dark path”. She doesn’t want to tell this being about her sibling. How they are the light of her world. And the only thing she looks forward to everyday is talking with her sibling late at night. “No, my parents were powerless. They tried their best to support me but there were more opportunities in the States than there were in the People’s Republic.”

Ivis nods, sipping their water as they lean back. Their eyes never leave the face of the interpreter. “And has the States treated you well? This city surely has been treating you well for your work, it’s not an easy job.” Sun doesn’t respond, she has opinions on the matter- ideas of how the city could change to benefit not only the powerless and Heroes, but also provide opportunities for the Destructives. Perhaps that is what the goal of Ivis is- to have a united society. Unlike Longan Dragon who wants to revert everything to the beginning of time. 

“My time in the States has been… beneficial. I face no issues with work.” She offers, hoping that answer would satisfy the silver and gold man. “But outside of work, if you and I walked outside and stepped onto the street, would people treat you kindly?” They asked, their leg crossing over the other while their hands folded on their knee. ‘Am I being interviewed or interrogated right now?’ Sun wonders. “I would be treated like everyone else. As long as I have my aid, everyone will be fine.” She retorts. 

But even with her eyes closed, she knows the look they are giving her. She has this feeling that they know that she is lying, or at least, trying to push a narrative that is better than what is reality. Their response was a perfect example of it, “And what about the incident at Target? When the man slapped your friend’s drink all over her and cursed such cruel things?” Sun pressed her mouth into a slight frown and thought about her response. There were times when she was afraid to walk home alone or afraid to leave the house to face the world that obviously believes her to be a monster before they find out about her. There were days when she was rejected by people who saw her and claimed her to be the aggressor. 

And there were times when people made her the punching bag of a joke that she couldn’t fight back because then she would be labeled as “dangerous”. This was the life a Destructive had to deal with. They either lived in fear or worked with the people who made their lives harder. Sun has seen her fellow Destructives become blamed for a crime they did not commit but when they are free, they are a target for mayhem or chaos. She knows that being a Destructive means that you are the number one suspect in a robbery or shooting, Buddah forbid she is accused of murdering someone. 

She has her whole life predetermined by a test that has been more or less accurate but powerless ratings and when a Destructive is shown on the test, no one tries to see if that test is accurate. ‘How many newspapers have you read where a family is shunned and outcasted because a test told them the wrong result?’ She wanted to ask. How did Ivis Iris deal with a world that certainly has no desire to treat their fellow citizens and people correctly? Racism and Sexism is already a problem, much worse if you are the victim, and if you are a Destructive, then it’s a combo of three that’ll get you farther away from a line of success. 

How Ivis was able to reach the ranks is beyond Sun, but then again, she is assuming that Ivis is a Destructive. “Sun,” the pale woman opened her eyes to look at the silver man. Their eyes of amber etched into her pale irises, as if the golden sheen of their eyes were peering behind her apathetic facade. The sheen of the golden pin catches her eye and her olive eyes momentarily glance at the head of the pin. The dragon’s head seemed to tilt and stared at her, as if reading her inner thoughts. Sun wanted to back away, lean so far back into her chair- she runs the risk of tipping over. But the smell of dumpling and a hot plate suddenly appeared before her. 

“Your dumplings. Is there anything else I can fetch for you?” The server asked, looking between the boss and the translator. “No, no. Everything is perfect. Thank you Bob.” Ivis thanked, gesturing to the server with a gentle but bright smile. The server tips his head and scurries off. Sun feels her stomach drop to her gut, the shallow crawl of desire worms its way up her throat and makes her mouth salivate at the idea of the dumplings popping in her mouth and the warm liquid of sizzling broth dripping down her throat fills her with a sense of homesickness. The woman reaches for her chopsticks and snaps them open, the silver man mimics her movements. 

Both take their first bite of the food and they fall into a respective silence. Sun has to hold herself from devouring the dumplings on her plate, she has to hold herself from popping as many dumplings into her mouth. They were warm, full of brother, the meat was tender but not so easily torn, and the veggies clung to her teeth and its crevices. She feels the salvia she had gathered swallow down to her stomach with the contents of the dumplings. She feels the best when the soft dough of the white bun tears and breaks in her mouth. She feels the warmth of the bun fall into her soul, warming away the apathetic facade. 

“Sun,” the silver man tries again, wiping their mouth on a cloth of fine silk and linen, they set their utensil down and stare at her with an expression the pale interpreter can only describe as “leveled”, as in, wherever the silver boss of a company so prestigious as this one was going to ask a question that could or might change the view she will have on the company. The look in the caramel glazed eyes tell her to not move, to move an inch would not be in her best favor, more so if she did move, their eyes will be full of disgust. 

In reality, the soft autumn colors that swirled in the eyes of silver man reflected more softer tones with their posture slacking to give away a more relaxed meaning- to give the woman a moment to compose herself as the tongue of the beast slips past his lips as the throat bobs with their voice soothing the air of tension and static. Sure, the air is thick and the eyes of the other patrons glaze and stare, holding her face and soul in a moment of precise position, like prey ripe and ready for a feast, and Sun cannot be bothered to look around to shoo away the vultures who stalk her with their eyes bloodshot and heads tilted. Watching her like she was an exotic dancer performing at a circus with tigers and dancing bears rolling around her with unicycles and swallowing swords. 

She feels no chills as she focuses her attention on the lips and tunes her ears to focus on the voice that the man speaks. She feels the rumble of her skin fluster, sharp pin pricks peck at her legs as her feet begin to harden, her forehead throbs slightly as the sensation of fright. Sun tightens her grip and bites her tongue, she must not move- even if her spine crackles with fire and her hair feels longer and curling into fluff and frizz. She forces her chest inhale and the breath she holds to exhale through her nose in a steady breath. She blinks slowly with her ears internal flickering to each sound the world makes outside of the bubble of an uncomfortable afternoon lunch. 

The voice breaks through the haze and static of the sounds and air, forcing the scales to shoot back to her legs and her feet to soften with a relaxed huff of breath, “What is your personal opinion on aids for the Destructive Class?” 

She sucks that relaxed breath back up and she feels the feet in her shoes harden with the voice of panic rear back and shout for her to retreat. To hide. To seek shelter within the temples of her family’s ancestors. To hide and to flee. To leave this silver-tongued bastard behind in a cloud of puffy dumplings and warm-stained broth on the linen napkins. “My… opinion?” She congratulates herself for the steady monotone voice she pushed out when every part of body and mind begged her to leave and find shelter within an apartment that has started to become more of a home than her wood and straw hut with marble concrete and smoke-filled rooms could ever be. (Her roommates are becoming family. As much as she hates to admit it). 

“Yes. I pride myself and the company on learning and hearing the voices of the Destructives and how they feel when they are forced to comply with something the city is enforcing. I have a … particular interest in aids and the construction of them. I have multiple accounts, interviews, and first-hand photos of HOW the aids are made and what labors of hours the workers put themselves through to make these things for people that are feared. But very few Destrucitves wish to tell me their opinion about how the aids impact their lives. Some are afraid to tell me. So I want to hear from you, what do you think of your aid?” 

The aid that hovers in her pocket suddenly feels warm. The cool curves of the flower petals warm in her palms as her fingertips brush over the indentures of the carved lines on the leaves and base of the flower. How the flower is closed but would sprout when she tucks it out of her pocket and lets it float around her head- like putting a target on her back and head for anyone to mock or harm. Her mind flashes to the countless newspapers, news anchors hoisting a picture along with “ Missing ” person’s papers stapled to telephone polls or taped to billboards, all the faceless people who were sought after because their aid- which is supposed to protect and help them become a member of society- is now a target for anyone’s aggression. 

“It… Is like a big red button you want to press,” Sun starts, her eyelids closing as she envisions her words and how the pad of her thumbs press lightly on the closed petals. “It’s so obvious and you have this intrusive urge to press it. To see the result of what happens.” She sees her aid hovering overhead and the spoke of incense disperses into small kisses of snow gracing her head but not cooling her in the hot summer. “Some can resist, they can live with the red button looming over them and the seed of intrusive thoughts are rotten and do not grow. But there are others who jump- they are “trigger-happy” to see the result of the button being pushed.” Sun sees a projection of a woman’s face who is bruised and cut, her eyes are swollen shut while reporters shove their mikes in her face and ask her to tell them how she feels about the men who assaulted her. 

Does she feel shame? Or does she accept what happened to be a way of life because she was a Destructive? “And while that person may have pushed the button, there are others who are unhappy about the result of the button being pressed and they push to break the button to see how it works, to see the inside, and to understand how it works so differently from another button. The aid is the button and when you press on it hard enough, then it will crack and reveal the consequences of the aid. Whether the person who pressed the button liked the result or not, the Destructive will have to deal with the end of the line once the result is finished and the perpetrator is gone.”

She sees Aphrodite covered in a drink and her clothes soaked with coffee and syrups, how the pinkette reacted so fiercely, and how Sun could see the bruises covering the girl be reflected so easily on the pink musician. “How the aid does not protect the individual but it opens the gate for society to wreck and ruin the person- even if they have the best intentions.”

When Sun opens her eyes again, she blinks a few times to take in the world of light and her olive eyes locked with the honeyed eyes that stare at her. No longer was the boss leaning back, relaxed, now they sit upright and hold an expression that screams “understanding”. Sun wants to say more, to keep the silver man hooked, for her to keep them on the train of memories. To show them the memories she has been pushing down since she has been born. To hide the shame that filled her being since her discovery of her power. 

She’s so happy that her sibling doesn’t have the circumstances she has with her power. They are safe and happy. And far away from her, away from the danger she poses to the world. 

“Do you think the aid is required? After all this time with your’s hovering over you, do you think all Destructives need them to live in this city?” The question offered does provide insight to the boss’ awareness to Ivory Dragon. If the villain was successful in their power of conquering the city, then the world, the potential of Destructives living normal lives were much more likely. Sun has read the posts on Hoot and Blogin about support for the dragon and most who are in support for the reformation of the city are Destructives and some poorer class citizens. The Heroes Command always remain silent on the front for equality between all classes, and even with the politics, there is someone who has a better power to oppress the Destructives for the sake of safety . 

And the Heroes Command endorses them. 

“In a perfect world, a Destructive wouldn’t need an aid. I would be able to see my family without being spied on by security, or another Destructive would be able to walk down a street without being afraid of being arrested for an unknown reason or being attacked because their aid is around them. In a perfect world, the Heroes Command would allow Destructives to enroll in their academy and work for them to better the community. Yet, we do not live in that society. We live in a place where I could be “hunted” for the only reason is that my aid is pointing at me like I’m a bull’s eye target for anyone to come and hurt me.” Sun closes her eyes as she tries to think of her roommates and their circumstances. 

Even if the time they had experienced discrimination about their power was minor, it was still an impact that told them that they weren’t valued as citizens. They were seen as monsters. “I do believe that the Heroes Command have curated a few civilians that can be classified as “Destructives”; Lady Moon, Four-Leaf Clover, arguably Great Tree. Do you think that they are the type to be labeled as the “Destructive” class?” The interpreter frowned as she reflected. 

Her experience with Lady Moon has been mostly word of mouth- thanks to Aphrodite who has been broken by the slumbering hero, the power to influence dreams and to lure anyone to sleep with a wave of her key-like stauve can be classified as a “Destructive” power. Four-Leaf Clover is a harder deal to sell for the mere fact that he is so stubborn and his power only extends to shooting a bow and arrow that can replicate into multiple copies with a shout of command, but that can be classified as a “Destructive” power. But for someone as grand as Great Tree… His power is stemmed as one that is influenced by nature and the thriving energy around him. Sure, his power can become “ Destructive” but it can also be minor. It’s hard to say for the retired hero. 

“A popular opinion that is shared with Destructives is that the Heroes Command have people that hold the power of a Destructive but they aren’t classified as a “Destructive”. Hence, a line of hypocrisy involved with the Heroes.” Sun answers, opening her eyes to the dumplings that have gone cold. “I know… a few Destructives that would have been greatly beneficial for the Heroes Command to have on their side but they wouldn’t even make it past the first rounds of tests. All because of a label that tells them that they are dangerous.”

Sun adds with a bit more bite than she intended, “And who are they to tell someone that they can’t be a hero? If their power is considered “dangerous”, then they wouldn’t be a hero. They would be just like every other Destructive.” The woman sits back, her hand gripping onto her aid, she could feel the imprints of the aid burying into her skin. She knows better than to let her fury grow into a blaze in her heart. She knows better than that. 

But when her eyes reach up to the warm caramel eyes that once held such softness and lure- she found them glaring with empathy and a slight frown burrowing onto the face of the boss. “I see… To be honest, I couldn’t have agreed more. Perhaps,” they said, tilting their head and offering a small smile, “You should speak at conferences or rallies. You would be a great support for the protestors.” Sun shook her head, her bangs brushing against her head and her eyes returned closed as she rejected the idea in a soft manner, “I couldn’t risk myself being out there. I wouldn’t be safe.”

None of her roommates would be safe in that crowd. Personally, she would be too overwhelmed by the noise and the touch sends chills down her spine. “Perhaps, you’ll change your mind one day, then.” Ivis shrugs. Sun still shakes her head and they fall into a general silence. Letting the noise of the world fill in the gaps, it would be peaceful if the interpreter wasn’t feeling like the silver man before her was giving her the feeling like the last statement was a confession or an order. It was odd for them to suggest such a thing. 

The phone in her pocket buzzed and when she pulled out the phone, she found a text from Cici greeting her. A way out of this awkward lunch. “My sincerest apologies, my friend is here to pick me up.” She informed, her hand halfway up to wave down a server passing by. “Shame, I would have loved to get to know more about your perspective but I suppose I’ve taken enough of your time.” The silver man waved a server over and once the dumplings were gently placed in the white cardboard box, the two were walking to the front of the building. Sun had replied to Cici to get his ass to her location so she can leave right then and there. 

And thank the gods that Cici was always ready to help his roommates at a call or text away. By the time the white Kia Soul pulled up to the front of the entrance, Sun felt her nerves soothe. “I do hope we can speak again in the future. Your insight has been the most helpful.” Ivis informed, facing Sun and bowing to her slightly, Sun repeated the motion and replied something back. She doesn’t remember what she did say, she just walked to the car and got in. The roommate was wearing his blue sheep cardigan with a white tank top as he wore blue sweatpants. “Drive. Just drive.” Sun insisted, buckling in. Cici didn’t give a millisecond more to ask a question, he just hit the gas pedal and soon they were gone. The grandiose building was far behind the car now and the woman slumped into the chair, deeply inhaling the smell of faux blueberries and honeysuckle. 

“Wanna spill or wanna wait until we’re home?” The designer asked, flicking on the blinker to get into the left lane. “Home. I- I need a moment to decompress. I’ll tell you everything when we get home.” The idea of walking into the apartment and smelling the spicy cooking of Raldey with Sal signing with Aphrodite on the sofa filled her body with more relief than she realized. 

She comes to the conclusion that she has grown comfortable. 

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Ivis stares at the folder in their hand, the left hand was occupied by a teacup holding honey-filled Earl Gray tea while their eyes read over the general description of Sun’s power. They weren’t expecting to have such trouble with getting information from the pale woman. They were hoping to pry more but perhaps, they overstepped their boundaries with the woman- regardless, they got what they needed in general. The silver man set the folder down and sipped the tea, humming constantly as the warm liquid rehydrated their throat. While being unable to blow fire like their other rambunctious sibling, they feel as if they had blown fire from the depths of their core. 

The dragon spins in their chair to face the city. To watch as the sun starts her trek to the opposite side of the world and to let the moon rise with a soft melody to lull the city to a deep sleep. But the silver and white villain knows that there will be poeple who will not sleep, they will hunt and harm under the guise of the night. And their topaz eyes narrow at the tail end of the green hero coming towards their territory. They should have Apollo smack the flea back but they resist the command. 

They have more important things to worry over. Not so much as “worry” as it is securing assets to their take over of the city. They know that there will be a festival in the coming months, and they would very much like to keep a close eye on any potential allies. “Yo, Ivis!” The silver dragon physically slumped as they turned to look boredly at Apollo. The golden dragon had Rhea under one arm as they kicked and snapped at the taller, “I got the files for the interpreter’s family. No Destructives in the family but…” They set down a file with a familiar woman of pink hair, “The translator is rooming with the pinkette you met at Target.”  

The honey eyes blink at the photos and nod. “Rhea, put decoys and eyes on the apartment. Or find out about their schedules. If Enchantress or Dragon forbid, the Command finds out about our search- the plan will be set back disappointingly.” The purple and pink haired dragon giggled as she wiggled out of Apollo’s grasp and skipped off. The golden dragon grunts, “Why are we focusing so much on these two? Besides the fact that they are one of the few most “powerful” Destructive in the city?”

Ivis responds as they pick up Sun’s and the pinkette’s file to stare at the files’ contents, “Because there is more to them than just a power. They hold more power than I can gather at the moment. We just need to find the right button to push and the right time to bring them to our side.” Ivis blinks as their gaze stares at Sun’s face more closely, wondering if this woman was pushed far enough, would she break her aid to set free or would she allow the aid to suffocate her? 

Only time will tell. 

Chapter Text

The apartment was lavish. Too lavish in Fairen’s opinion, but it was decked out to protect what was inside the building. He sighed gently as he slumped off his jacket, pulling his shirt over his head to break his wings out from their tattoo bind. The glass wings sparkled in the dim light of the entryway as he dropped the sad sack of a backpack onto the lavender carpet and started to brush his hands up his hair, undoing his high ponytail to let his hair run free and out of its confinement. 

He took a moment to look around the living space; it was tidy and untouched, a sofa without an impression of someone’s behind, not a dot of dust covering the glass coffee table, and the stack of magazines were perfectly aligned and untouched without a thumbprint on the spine or cover. He found the home to be dark, darker than the city lights that seem to burrow into his skull to bring out a migraine if he doesn’t deal with it right away. 

Speaking of injuries, his torso thumped in response to his slacking body posture. The injuries were numbed to small sores and scars but that was the consequence of stopping a derailed speed train going for a small market once the wheels lost traction on the rails. He moved around the room, his feet slipping from his shoes, hands wandering over the walls where photos of himself and his boyfriend were posing. 

One with the couple standing on a dock. 

Another on a date. 

A few more showing the goofy side of the hero and lover. 

And a small propped photo of Cici kissing him over a sunset with a ring on his finger. 

‘Shit…’ Fairen thought, pausing his steps from entering the living room where the lamps were illuminating a shadow of the lover moving around the room, ‘The appointment…’ He groans to himself. The lavender-eyed hero wondered if he could sneak around but the shadow that was pacing frantically paused and as if the silence was an answer for the other’s entrance, Cici called out, “I know you’re in the foyer. And I know you just realized that you forgot the appointment.” The hero sagged his shoulders as he accepted his fate to enter the living space. 

After Cici was proposed to, he was taken to the hero’s apartment and listed as a “weak spot” in the Hero Database so if the blue-haired designer ever left the apartment, then he would be covered by whoever was in the neighborhood or be escorted by a hero in civilian form until he is returned safely to the apartment. Cici was wearing one of light blue sweaters with his black sweatpants covered in fabrics as he sat on the sofa in the living room and pulled the fabric of his recent dress over his legs to continue the work he paused to pace. 

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to flake on the appointment-” He starts, feeling ready to take on the heat of the lover, ready to mend and offer promises to support the bridge between the two. Cici glanced at the hero, his sunshine-and-sky blue eyes blinked at him, jumped to the torso of the hero, then back to hemming the fabric. “Just buy me dinner and you’re forgiven,” the fiancee mumbled as he started to riffle through his sewing basket to search for something. Fairen paused as the metaphorical heat suddenly died to lukewarm. “What?” He asked, he didn’t want to admit that he didn't know how the other was so easy to forgive him. 

Cici would usually shout, stomp his foot, let the tears run, and the two would be holding each other. Hugging while one listens to the heartbeat of the hero while the other feels the gasps of air leave the body of his smaller lover. They would hold one another, feeling the heat radiating from each of their hands and feel the worry melt into a shared kiss. And if Fairen had the energy, he would tease the fiancee, who would giggle and it would lead to the two of them resting that night- hot and tired, but so happy to have each other in their arms. 

But the face that Cici wore was blank, his eyes were so focused on the fabric, it seemed like he was refusing to look at the shaking from his hands as he tried to feed a piece of thread through the needle eye. Fairen waited for a moment, then decided to try and apologize again. But this would take more steps than his usual cry for forgiveness. He didn’t like to beg, he didn’t like to ask for forgiveness by crying, but he was confused. 

Cici was never this… detached to the world. He stepped over the fabrics and sat besides the designer, watching the hands shake as the needle was pressed into the purple peony fabric and shakily threaded through. Cici was dangerous with a needle but the other knows that Cici needs a knitting needle to stab someone. He’s seen it before. 

The calloused hands reached over and stopped the movements of the other, forcing him to drop the needle and fabric, one hand came up to tilt the fiance's face towards the hero. The lavender stared into the yellow topaz and the blue sapphire eyes, one face was set with a gentle frown, while the other was blank. Neither spoke but it was obvious that there was something going on. Cici was never one to be quiet when it came to muting his emotions. He grew up with emotions running wild and after his brother left for the Navy, returning home with a missing leg, and going through the motions of trying to keep his head above water from school, work, projects, and living in general- there was a flicker of upset in the eyes of the hero’s lover. 

“Cici… I know you don’t want to speak but please… Just tell me what I need to do to hear your voice?” The other blinked slowly, then his voice returned with a viciousness that came with going against a storm in a high-wind gust, “You showing up to the appointment would’ve made this night a whole lot easier.” Fairen flinched as he focused his attention somewhere that wasn’t the face of the lover. The appointment was supposed to be them visiting a venue that was so hard to book for a tour, both Fairen and his mother had to use their “hero” status to get into the venue. For Cici to show up alone, to imagine a wedding alone- when it's supposed to be a thing the couple choses must’ve cut deeply into the designer. 

Not to mention, the blue lover hasn’t been himself per say. He’s been more inclined to hide in the apartment, he refuses to watch the news, and if Fairen tries to see any broadcast via radio or show, Cici throws a “tantrum” and until the device is off, both will get into a loud argument about it. The glass-winged hero thought at first that the other was getting upset because he was adjusting to the “hero’s life” and further, having very little contact with the outside world beyond family members and the higher up in the Hero’s Command would certainly make anyone upset or irritable. But the fae hero has been reassured by the designer countless times that he’s fine. He’s been safe and talking with his brother (who fortunately is far away from the city). 

But the silver-haired hero tries to recall anytime in the past three weeks about the eldest brother talking to his younger brother or telling him anything that might be considered hilarious for the lover to mention to his brother. The last story the fiancee remembers is when Allin had recently adopted a two-headed lamb and it was happily accepted into the family because Cici urged the four lovers Allin married to accept the lamb as a helping hand. After all, Allin still experiences the PTSD of losing his leg and the world of villains vs. heroes does not help him relax. 

Allin is always calling his brother at ungodly hours of the night to make sure the elder sibling is safe and somewhat asleep in bed. Only one time Cici wasn’t answering Allin’s phone call caused the blonde to rapidly call Fairen, then Cici again, until one of them finally called back and told the retired Naval medic that they were busy with something . And the blonde now calls during the day and calls once a week at either two a.m. or three a.m. 

Fairen turns his eyes back to the designer and wilts a little when he sees the tears in the other’s eyes. Even after nearly six-and-a-half years of them being together and only being engaged for six months in those years, the hero easily finds himself kneeling and wilting at the sight of his lover crying. 

There are few times when Cici will freely cry. While he is awful with hiding his emotions, his tears are held tightly to his chest. He wears his heart on his sleeve and freely allows himself to be ridiculed or taunted, but he never cries unless it called for it. Cici will falsely cry for help to bring attention to an idiot or he’ll pretend to sob and/or be offended to tears when someone harasses him, it’s all fake until the real tears are there. 

Cici will be quiet, he’ll fall into his blank but heartbroken expression when he cries, the tears are globs of glue, rolling down his cheeks like waterfalls. He doesn’t shudder or shake, he stays perfectly still, and scarily enough, he is absolutely quiet when he cries. There was an incident when that quiet and practiced nature was broken, Fairne swore to never break Cici like that again. Much less, let anything make Cici break so hard. 

But based on the look the designer was giving him, he might as well be the cause for Cici to break into soul-wrenching sobs. “Do you understand how embarrassing it was for me to arrive at a venue alone, to explain to the tour guide that my soon-to-be husband was busy with “meetings” and “paperwork” while also getting the pitying look that says, “Oh that marriage won’t last for at least four months”? Do you understand how humiliated I was when Fire Spirit of all heroes had to escort me to AND from the venue to the apartment. His comments were unfounded and rude.” Cici snips, his eyes crinkling to free a few more tears clinging to his eye duts. Fairen shook his head, keeping his eyes on the pretty irises of his future husband, “I know he’s a dick but he means well… In his own crude way.” 

Cici sniffled and muttered, “I did not appreciate him calling OUR wedding idea a “frivolous motion of Capitalist gag”. And he insulted your mother’s tradition of having me wear her veil.” Fairen sighs, closing his eyes and imagining his mother’s wrath if she heard Ruben’s unkind words. Bless the Heavens for his mother, Mary, who had the patience of the Buddah, Vishnu, and all the other gods combined- would not have reacted well to the words of the oversized candle. 

Mary, his mom, wore a dark crimson red veil while wearing her white wedding dress. It was a tradition for every person who was marrying into the family to wear that veil. His mother wore that veil instead of the lover she married, Olive, because the lover refused to wear anything that would tie them to a “female” pronoun so Mary wore it and it would be passed onto Cici to wear. Mary has known Cici and his family since he was born. Fairen and Cici had been the best of friends until Cici’s father passed away tragically and the two-toned-eyed boy with his barely four month old brother was sent to live with their godfather. Fairen’s boss. 

Millie or Dr. Millie raised the boys the best he could. They both went into good careers and while Cici claims that he wants to pursue more careers, he placed them on hold for a relationship that the both of them cherished. When Mary saw Cici again after nearly 20 years, she cried and sobbed. A quick family reunion later, Cici and Fairen were dating. 

Dating through university, through the Hero’s Command Program, and now, they were supposed to be getting married. Cici would be wearing something he made in combination of his father’s old suit and his own twist while Fairen wore a soft lavender tux with a sapphire blue bow. The theme was “starry night”, nothing grand or massive. It was a small wedding with family and close friends only. “How is our wedding “frivolous”? It’s meant to be small and simple.” Fairen commented, opening his eyes to look at his lover. 

Cici blinked at him and gently pushed the hands of the hero away as he wiped his face. “You tell me.” He replied. Fairen tightened his face into a pinch before he dropped his hands into his lap. Boht sat on the sofa in a silence that spoke few words; Cici was staring hard at the fabric of his soon-to-be train added onto his father’s modified tux, Fairen was staring at the bandaged torso he sported, and both refused to look at one another. 

This silence should be easily broken with a simple apology, a kiss with a whispered promise, and then an offer for late night O'Malley's. That would usually get the two up and moving but the designer didn’t dare stir to look at the finance. Fairen turned the gears in his mind to wonder what he could do to help the blue lover to look at him again without that stoic look of emotion. The glass-winged hero glanced at the fabric and noticed one of the lamps lighting the fabric was tilted to shine on the work that Cici was working on. 

The fore-wing of the hero slowly peaked out from behind his back and slowly folded over his shoulder, making the light hit the soft muted purples, to make the neon aquamarine and bubblegum pink vein spots shine and gleam under the light. The lamp light was warmer than he liked but it was worth it for the colors of aqua, pink, purple, and hints of white to shine over the fabric that Cici was holding. The blue designer shifted his eyes to the outstretched fore-wing, taking in the gesture the other was trying to do, and he moved his hands to cup the wing gently. 

If Fairen was ever in a bad enough fight, he could be grounded forever. It’s a nightmare that many people of all classes and types of people who can fly fear to experience. One of Allin’s lovers, Sunny, was an avian and she had an experience when her wings were broken- forcing her to be land bound for at least seven months. “Seven long, torturous, and painful months where I walked everywhere and I couldn’t preen myself properly! Such a tragedy!” She once bemoaned over the phone when Cici asked about her wing cleaning routine. 

If Fairen were ever to get injured, his wings can be healed by Millie or Clara, but if they are ever torn or ripped to pieces… then the hero would have to retire far too early in his career and he would have to find a new job to keep him busy, and worst of all, neither would be able to enjoy the glimmers that the wings give. Cici would say that he fell in love with Fairen’s wings before he fell in love with the body. 

Just seeing the beautiful wings shine and reflect light like a crystal ball, it deeply fascinated the designer. He would try countless times to replicate the gleam and shine that the wings gave him but nothing could satisfy him when he saw the wings expand and coat him in the colors of aqua’s and pinks with the smallest hints of muted purple and lavender. Cici cupped the wing gently and tilted his head and he felt his tears dry. His pent up emotions were being soothed away by the shine of colorful wings, and he would be a fool to be angry at the lover who was just trying to do his job. 

“You know… I could call up Ruben and make him apologize when we go out to dinner. We could ruin his night.” Fairen offered and chuckled. Cici snorts as he shakes his head, finally looking at the fiancee with love rather blank. “No… It’s fine. I would rather not bother him. I know you can embarrass him in front of the others which will be punishment enough. Or get Pono to scare and put him in time-out.” The lavender-eyed hero snorts as he nods, “Sounds like a better idea when you say it.” 

Both smiled and stared at one another for a moment, lingering on the banter that simply comes naturally for the two of them. They stare at one another and the hero leans in, lips touch and while the kisses would be much and a little heated, this kiss was short, sweet, and simple. Something the both of them wanted. “Cici… My love, my sapphire, my workaholic lover when inspiration hits at three a.m. …” Fairen starts, his hands cupping the other’s cheeks while he folds his wings back. 

Cici melts into the hands and looks up to the lavender eyes with melting eyes, his body simply goes limp with the warm touch of the lover and he can’t deny how much he loves the other’s warmth. “I am so sorry for not being there. I should’ve left and gone to the venue to walk around. To make Ruben shut his trap. To make you feel ready. I didn’t live up to the promise that I vowed to Millie when I first proposed.” Cici tilts his head as he blinks so slowly at the hero. “I should’ve been there… I can’t make it up to you by trying to get into that same venue but I’m sure to arrive at the next venue and make sure you love it. Unless you liked this venue?” He inquired. 

Cici closes his eyes, most likely envisioning the wedding, and he then shakes his head, “It’s too big. It would be a waste of money to have such a large space for a small wedding. We can look somewhere else.” He mumbles. Fairen nods and leans down to kiss him again, a peck is all that got the designer’s spine to melt like chocolate. “Alright then… We’ll keep looking.” Fairen chuckles as he pulls back. He turns his head to the entryway where he left his phone in the backpack and he says, “We could order some food and relax here? Or maybe eat in the bedroom while watching a movie? I haven’t eaten and I bet you haven’t either-”

The hero is interrupted by a pair of hands pushing him back onto the sofa, Cici sits on him, and the kisses they share turn feverish. Hands wander and they eventually return to the room for some bonding time. 

When they lay in their shared bed, they hold one another while curled in each other’s warmth. Cici is happily pressed against the chest of the hero as he listens to the heartbeat. The steady thumps of the hero’s heart pulls him into a trance of deep sleep. Meanwhile, Fairen combs his hand through the lover’s long locks. He threads his fingers through the strands as he muses over the night. He thinks about the gentle hands that Cici always has, the way he was slow and made sure to be aware of the torso with the soreness and the bandages were redressed after their little dance. He sees Cici using those same gentle hands to cup a child’s face and press kisses to their face to cheer them up. 

He sees how Cici makes the silliest of faces to make the room less tense, Fairen sees Cici making those faces at a baby who babbles and wiggles as he cleans them in the sink. The hero melts at the image of seeing Cici cradling a bundle of blankets with his voice so sweet and soothing the cries of the infant who simply wants his attention. The baby will calm and fall into a deep sleep as Cici sings a melody passed down from father to son, he sees Cici kissing the baby’s head and then bringing them to the bed where the two of them curl around the baby. 

They would never have to buy clothes because Cici will always style and make the clothes. If the baby has wings, then he’ll teach them how to carefully clean their fore-wings and rear wings. He wonders if the baby could have his eyes but Cici’s magical blue hair. The two of them jokingly talked about baby names, they decided that having one boy named Sapphire or Junipter would be perfect. Fairen can see the toddle hugging his neck as he introduces the infant to Luna and Sasha, he would let Millie hold his grand-godson while the baby reaches out to play with his long strands, and he smiles wider when he sees Archer holding the baby so perfectly but Ruben makes them cry. 

It’s a perfect image. 

“What are you smiling about?” Fairen looks down to his beloved and smiles as he kisses their forehead, “Just imagining how beautiful you’ll look in your tux and how you’ll steal my heart.” The designer snorts and curls closer, “And Ruben says I have a sappy heart.” The hero chuckles and curls his legs to pull the other closer and he scratches the head of his fiancee, effectively, it makes the other fall limp and soon, fall into a deep sleep. 

Fairen doesn’t stop there. He sees Cici holding their child’s hand as they hide behind his legs when he meets his uncle. Allin would be the uncle to spoil the shite out of them, always showing them how to garden, how to help out with the animals, and be the first one to pull up to the apartment with a gun to protect the child if it was needed. He also sees his mother cooing and rocking the baby to sleep so easily, knocking the baby out for several hours so himself and Cici can spend time together. 

He sees himself taking the two of them to the docks to play in the sand, to build sand castle after sand castle. He can find himself holding their child’s hand as he leads them through the Fae forest, showing them all the food they can munch on while Cici takes pictures of them. He sees their child in a graduation gown, the two of them crying as they embrace their child. He sees himself retiring and holding Cici close to him. He sees the two of them growing old and dying together in their sleep- embracing one another as if the world didn’t exist and they break all the rules of Death and vows. He dares not lose that image of seeing Cici smiling, whether it's across the table, next to one another, or below him, Fairen closes his eyes knowing that the man he has in his arms is the man he will marry. And maybe… Cici will want a child too. A little one to carry on the tradition of seeing their partner wear the red veil of the family as they walk down the aisle. 

His smile only grows wider as he pictures the moment the lovers of two, welcome a third member of their family. 

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Fairen sits straight up as he pants heavily. His left hand blindly slapped to his side to feel for the body next to him. His eyes snap over to see where Cici disappeared off to, looking for a trace where the blue-haired designer was sleeping and showing the kisses he gave him the night prior. But the bed was empty. 

The space was cold. 

The chill of the room breaks his racing mind. He stops all movements as he pulls his eyes away from the empty bedside to the nightstand that has his phone buzzing. He looks at the phone and his hand reaches over, swiping the icon to answer, and he closes his eyes to lean back. “Hi Moony,” he mumbles, his palms rubbing the crust from his eyes and pushing the sleep from his mind. “Morning Faerie, sleep well?” She asked as she shifted around from something. ‘She must be on the speaker,’ he concludes as he answers, “Fine. What do you need? It’s my day off, remember?”

When was the last time he got a day off? He doesn’t remember exactly, all he does remember is coming home late at night from all the night shifts and seeing Cici slouched over the desk with fabric bundles in his hands. “Well- you know that there’s that festival being held for me in two months?” Fairen grunts, “Yes. I’m your “bodyguard” according to Archer. Frost Queen might take my place halfway through the festival. Why?” He mused, his hand falling onto his forehead. “Well- it so happens that I need a new outfit AND I promise to drop by that boba place you like so much IF you agree to help me shop. Sasha would usually come with but she’s working.”

Fairen wants to grunt and the offer to take her shift sits on his tongue. But his brain also chimes that he needs to get out of the apartment. ‘Go somewhere that’s not work or home,’ the voice that sounds too much like his mother chimes in. “Mmm, fine. Boba first, dress shopping after.” He agrees. Luna squeals and starts thanking Fairen over and over, making him smile as he pictures himself sitting in a chair and helping the poor woman decide the appropriate dress for the festival. 

The fae pulls himself from the bed and looks over to the side where Cici should be sleeping but the cold seeps into his wings which he flutters to blend into his back. He stands and quickly tosses on a pair of jeans, a breathable t-shirt, grabs his shoes and wallet- fighting with his mind against the memories of the dream. He doesn’t want to think about Cici. 

They have been broken up for nearly two years, he doesn’t need to think about him anymore. But at the same time, the voice that resembles his mother chimes, “But you still visit him at night when he’s asleep?” He grimaces as he curses himself for visiting Cici last night. After his shift, he dropped by to make sure Cici was doing okay- finding the blue designer fast asleep but not alone. The silver hero found a woman with large pink hair resting on top of Cici. 

At first, he thought that they were a couple, but he quickly reminded himself to steel the nerves of jealousy- it was his roommate. The pinkette was very sleep-prone so she will lay on anyone. He guessed that Cici was her victim for the night. He wanted to kiss the designer’s head but he didn’t know how light or heavy of a sleeper the pinkette was so he wisely observed until he felt secure enough to leave the two alone. Even if there was a bitter taste on his tongue as he tried to fitfully sleep to forget the toned arms of his ex wrapped around the woman’s waist. 

The hero eventually left the house with his mind wrapped around the figure of Cici sleeping in a bed, safe and sound, and not with another person. 

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He watched from the window, blindly hoping that Cici would come back in. Hoping that the blue-haired designer would walk and from there, they could talk. He longs for the other’s voice. He misses his voice. He slumps in the chair as he swirls the drink in his hand as he waits for Luna to return to the lobby. “Hey Fairen,” he looks up and finds the moonlight hero wearing a dress as dark as her hair with a layer of star and crescent moon lace laying over the dark layers, “I think this is the one. Meet me outside and we’ll grab some lunch.” 

He doesn’t want to eat. He wants to see Cici. To hug him. To apologize. 

The hero waits for a few minutes for the moon hero to leave the shop and the walk to the food court is silent, unbearably so. Luna doesn’t try to ask what was wrong. She pulls up a phone and opens the group chat, “We Da Legends.”

Luna: Does anyone have ice cream? I believe Fairen requires the comfort that only Rocky Road can supply :( 

A little icon of Ruben appears accompanied with the three dots and his message goes through. 

Ruben: wtf happened in the 2 hours that u guys need the sad snack? 

The next icon to pop up makes Lina’s face flush a little red. 

Sasha: I have some extra pints. Where would you like me to deliver them?

Ruben: LMAO 

Ruben: not surprising Sea Flop

Luna chastises Ruben for calling Sasha “Sea Flop” (even though its a gentle joke meant to tease), she thanks Sasha and tells her to meet the two of them at her apartment. She stops and tugs at Fairen’s arm, “How about we order pizza to my place? Sasha is bringing some Rocky Road for you?” 

The silver hero doesn’t need to open his phone to know that Luna called in for back up. So he nods and walks with her. Luna wonders who the person was that made the silver man go so still, she’s never seen him so… stoic before. He’s calm and despite him being a few years younger than her, he has this aura that tells her that he’s far more mature for his age than he should be. 

But at the same time, she can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking about. She can read into his dreams but sometimes, she wishes she could peer into someone’s head and help them out. Especially when a friend needs the Sad Snack. 

Chapter Text

The table was round and imposing. Most new members aren’t allowed near the table- not because they would accidentally cause the precious plans to rip, spill, or stain- but because new members are the easiest to lose and thus, be easier to sacrifice if there is a need. The Clan of Darkness (yes, that is the organization’s name- it may be corny but there’s a reason for it) was regarded to new members as a space that was more welcoming than the world around. The Clan was composed by a matriarch, Damona, and her triangle of followers who would help her plan, execute, or recruit new members to their cause. 

Their goal? To reshape the world to a better picture. 

Damona flips a page of a report that her second-in-command had given her before she stalked off to fetch tea for the two of them. The report was a recording of the recent new members; the rescued from the streets, the ones who are in “rehab”, the works on training, and as the head woman read the final summary, she sighed contently. 

After all her hard work, it seemed like everything was starting to fall into her cards. She played a game of russian roulette with blindfolded foes who do not know her, the gun on the table loaded- ready to use, and when she had the chance, she wasn’t going to aim her bullet at herself. 

The clatter of cups with idle steps pulled her out of her thoughts as she set the report off to the side to observe her right hand place the tea tray down and sit by her side. “Thank you, Patience. I always appreciate your assistance.” The older woman commented as she started to make her cup. The red-haired woman raised her bell sleeves to mock bow to the matriarch with a smile so sinister but sincere. The two had a very odd chemistry with one another. 

With the older one being mostly the one to make orders, it would be safe to say that Patience will do whatever her master commands. The red woman was a stir of emotions and conniving skill; her tongue silver and sharp, mirth with a hint of danger always lies in her smile, and with an amused crease of her eyes- you will fear her quickly. 

Damona sips her tea as she closes her eyes, her back slacking as she leans into her chair. Patience follows in the same manner. The room has fallen into a safe silence that is peacefully held by the two women. The chatter of the halls beyond the doors is nothing more than a mere rumble and near silent whispers. The room was simple; covered in windows that let the sunlight brighten the room, the walls were a slightly darker gray that kept the room cool but not too cold when the winter rolls around. 

The room that the two sat in was considered the highest clearance anyone can get into. Unless you were a part of the higher triangle (aka the triangle is Damona's most precious and needed members of the clan that she can trust with her life. To get into the triangle means that you are precious and a high-priority of Damona to keep). And even those in the triangle have their own little cliques. 

Be aware, it is nothing like stereotypical high school dramas many are used to. 

These cliques are a collective of members that the higher triangle find the most successful and better manage their sectors/wings. For example: Red, an adopted son of Damona, is the “general” of her forces and he controls what decoys or members are sent out for a mission. His circle is composed of Charles (a massive brute with the strength of an ox) and Arwyn (a newer member of the group who was recently brought in by Patience, although Arwyn is often stuck with Red for training purposes). 

These cliques are meant for sharing members with other cliques for either research (Byron’s wing), training (Red’s wing), information (Affo’s wing), and so on. These wings are what keep the operation going, it’s how people from the outside start to get pulled in. This operation is more functional than the Hero’s Command in most of the members’ opinion. Afterall, Damona was a person shamed by the world of the Heroes for her desire to better the state in which a whole class of people were oppressed simply because a test said so. Thus, she decided to make the world change for the better. 

Damona set her cup on the table and reached over to pull a report from the stack of papers and thick paper-clipped analytical papers that detail the most recent project and its succession. “I’m assigning you to oversee Arwyn and her developments with the mirror aid. She’s been experiencing some negative side-effects with the mirror and I know you can manage her power better with your own.” The ruby-eyed woman glanced at her superior and she blinked slowly, choosing her next words carefully with a soft smile full of  interest. “Of course. I will oversee her progression. Although, I am worried that she may not be ready to assist in the festival if she doesn't show any signs of progress.” 

Damona hummed, finally meeting the other woman’s eyes, “I see. I expected that she wouldn’t be able to be a part of the plan. Her power is still unstable, especially with how she was treated and when we found her with the aid she was “provided”. I was going to have her on temporary “discharge” for her to better her mental health and take time off. I would like to see her at full strength, not weak. She is a valuable member now.” Arwyn was a young girl who was found by Red and his team; alone and hungry, she had no one to rely on, and worse, she was left to rot in the outskirts of the city. She was small and could barely stand when she was brought to the Clan of Darkness, her aid was broken and she was left to die in the streets. Most of the homeless are forced to move to the outskirts so farmers can help them get to their feet. 

But it seemed that whoever left Arwyn, didn't want her to survive. 

There are families who abandon “Destructive” children and Arwyn is one of the many who were left behind or abandoned by family because the test claimed that she was dangerous. But from Patience’s opinion, shared by Damona, the younger girl with near jelly-gray tones of hair is less of a Destructive and rather a minor class. Her power can be scary but it’s merely a “reflection” of one’s power. Damona had assigned her right-hand to help the girl learn to weave her power into something stronger, and the matriarch started to see Patience working excellently with the smaller girl, almost as if the child was her apprentice. And the older woman thinks it's adorable. 

“Speaking of Plan A…” The woman in red said. Both cups settled on the table as the bell sleeves were pushed to the side to pick up a packet of three pages. The plan was well-detailed and with the date of the festival rounding around the corner in a month, the preparations were starting to come together. The city main plaza was starting to pull up the stage hall, the tickets were sky-rocketing in prices, and then there was the rumor that the actual hero the festival was being made for would show up to see the concert. 

An event like this would be ignored in favor of planning a heist from a rumored hideout of a hero, but this event has a star that is much more valuable than a rumored hidoeut. 

“Do you have the orders for who will execute the recruitment? Red has been hinting at trying but…” Patience paused, letting the leader recall the incident when her son tried to recruit someone with Affo by his side. “Yes… I would want him to redeem himself but this is a more sensitive situation. I would like you and Affo to handle recruitment. But I have the plan for the technical shutdown,” Damona explains. Her hands picked up a stray paper she had set off to the side which was such a list of names, some crossed or circled, and the white-haired woman handed the paper to the red-dressed second-hand to look over. 

“I want Charles to be the brute force in case there is security, I would like to have Byron send out a few spies to take out the power, then leave it to Affo and you to handle the potential recruit.” Patience raised a brow as she read over the names, her name was circled which she has a sneaking idea of why her higher up would want her to be on the plan. “And you would like me to observe or interact with the recruit?” Damona’s bloody irises brightened slightly as she tilted her head, her mouth forming a crooked smile, “I believe you would be the best at overseeing the recruitment, in case Affo cannot convince. Afterall,” she smiled a little wider than made Patience feel warm, “You are better at convincing than Affo at times. You know how to strike.”

Patience giggles and nods, “Of course, Mistress. But don’t doubt Affo’s work. He was so close to finding the location of that sword with two dragons kept inside.” Damona rolls her eyes as she shakes her head, “Bastard.” She snarls as she sips her tea. There was a previous mission where Damona had heard word that a sword that was once an aid for a powerful Destructive general in ancient South Korea was being moved to the city for display. Affo was sent to find out where it would be sent and then convince the night guard to let him near, which he would then take the sword. And with the sword, Byron could’ve used the power to find a “reflector” to combat a weapon that a hero was using. But there was a retired South Korean soldier that got in the way. He stopped Affo from taking the sword, damn near breaking Affo’s arm in the process of protecting the sword. 

The red woman nods and says after, “Supposedly, the thwarting soldier is residing with your sister and her lover group.” Damona widens her eyes and spits the tea out on her side. She snaps her head to her second-in-command with her eyes pin pricked and narrowing for the other woman to tread carefully with her next sentence. 

It’s an unspoken rule among the triangle to never mention the Head of the Clan’s sister. Lily and Damona were twins, but went their separate ways a long time ago. Lily believes Damona is working with a “company” that is trying to promote better care for the Destructive and the lower classes. Although, the older twin (Lily) is much more quiet and she does reach out to Damona from time to time, offering to buy them coffee or go to a tea place to chat. They only had a handful of meetings, most were check-ups on each other, but Damona hasn’t been open to meeting with her sister. It has inhibited her mood recently. 

“My apologies- I didn’t mean to upset you.” Patience hurries, standing and bowing. Her traditions are steeped deeply into her mind, her body bowing for forgiveness as she keeps her head low. Damona can't be angry with her second-in-command, afterall, her family relations is not Patience’s problem, it’s more of her issue. She hasn’t been a good “sister” in the opinion of Lily’s lovers. She has only met two of them; one was an avian with too much gold on her person to realize that she’s flaunting her wealth, and the other was a Navy friend who has been with her sister since Boot Camp. Allin was… kind, too kind for the world. He’s blindly naive. When she heard about his accident when he lost his leg, she felt bad for him but just enough to send a “get well card”. 

Her sister was reserved and very quiet. She didn’t want to bring attention to herself or to the people she loves. She and Damona have a rocky relationship. Damona doesn’t try to connect with her sister, feeling like the elder would only get in her way. Plus, the eldest twin has been busy herself. 

Especially since Damona heard that her sister is hoping to propose to the lovers officially for marriage (it has been so long, the woman wondered why it was taking so long). The younger sister would like to see what her sister is planning with the marriage but that was a line she wouldn’t cross. She doesn't want to be the one to reach out. Damona closed her eyes and muttered, “Fantastic. That’s great to hear.” She gripes out. 

Both women sit back in their chairs and start to drink their tea again. Patience looked back over the reports and started to draft a written plan for how everything was going to be executed at the festival. The Mistress of the Clan was planning on something big, everyone could tell, and most assumed it had to do with the word-of-mouth rumor that a Destructive was going to be playing at the festival. The event itself was a self-made “holiday” for the people who deeply appreciate and follow the Moon Hero, and the funding was massive enough that the city has been buzzing about the festival that’ll start in a month. The rumor came from the newer rookies who were volunteering at the festival for information to give to the Clan, the rumor spiraled up to the triangle who sent those same rookies to find out who was performing. 

Aphrodite Paradise was a harp prodigy with a power to shatter hearing eardrums for miles to come. Her power was classified as “Destructive” when she was 12, has been playing the harp and lyre at several concerts for a company she's worked and played for. And she is living in an apartment with four other people. The red-and-black horned woman hasn’t received any news about whether the roommates were Destructives or not, so she is safe to assume that Aphrodite is the only one. She didn’t want to try to meddle with a seemingly “normal” Destructive’s life but Byron mentioned how the more Destructives that join their cause will extend out to other people in her position to join their side but to also use her ability to further their goal in reforming the world. 

Soon, the leader agreed and ordered minor spies to follow her in the background to the apartment complex and to keep an eye on her and her roommates. And that’s when she was informed that the eyes of Ivory Dragon were taking up small shadow corners to observe the apartments. That was when Damona got curious- if Ivory Dragon wanted to observe the pinkette for potential recruitment to their side, then she was going to have to fight fire with fire. Hence the plan currently being written for. 

At first, Damona wasn’t sure that Aphrodite was a Destructive, perhaps assumed to be one but there was no proof unless she had her test results on standby but a video changed her mind. The sighting of the pinkette came from a video that surfaced online of some man insulting and claiming that Aphrodite and her friend (who turned out to be her roommate) were Destructives. The pink-curled woman was quick and busted out the waterworks, which was a smart move. After researching the pinkette further, trying to confirm that she WAS a Destructive, that’s when the leader asked for a full report on the woman. 

A power to deafen the world with her voice alone was a power that Damona would say is dangerous but very helpful in certain situations. The leader of the Clan read through the stolen file from the city hall and the matriarch agreed that the woman would be a great ally to their cause. “Master, I do need clarification on this part,” Patience inquired, showing the paper to the woman who set her cup of tea down. “When you said, “Worse case scenario”, do you mean if a hero engages or if she escapes?”

Damona looks over the paper to see what the second-hand had written and she hums, “In both possibilities, I want to make sure Charles keeps her still enough for you and Affo to talk to her. But if a Hero does get involved, then I suggest either taking her with you or fleeing. We can always get a hold of her again.” The crystals in the other woman’s hair clicked together as she nodded, “Understood. I’ll go and inform the rest.” Damona nods and leans back as the other leaves the room. 

The room gets quiet again as the red-horned lady sits in her chair, her back sinking into the plush cushion and her ruby eyes wandering from one report to the next. The papers were mostly small matters to attend to, such as the next course of action for the rehab center in the clan’s building and the request for more training grounds for the newcomers/rookies to practice their powers without needing to suppress their ability for the sake of privacy. Then there was also the construction of the “prison” that was still underway. 

It was more of a jailhouse rather than a “prison”. The idea was originally supposed to be used for any heroes or vigilantes that may try to infiltrate the building but as the construction continued, the higher-up began to see it more like a holding cell. In the hypothetical case, if Ms. Paradise is unable to decide at the festival, then she would be brought to the Clan’s hideout and put into a cell until she either swears her oath to the Clan or just stays there until she decides to join. 

But know this, Damona is not a cruel woman. She won’t force Aphrodite to join through threats. Unlike the world. She knows that society, especially the Hero’s Command, has infused this stigma that no matter how “simple” a Destructive power can be perceived, it is still a dangerous power that can end the world. According to the Hero’s Command and the testing facility the tested Aphrodite Paradise- she was a danger to the world because she has the unique ability to scream louder than any whistle or pitch any tone higher than anyone can imagine. To the mistress, she has many recruits who were placed in this mindset as a child and forced to follow the rules until their graves. 

She refused to let that continue. 

She would not let herself be another number for the world to cheer for. She refuses to let anymore Destructives become numbers for people to breathe easy at. The master reached for another report that had a bill attached to the back, she turned the paper over and scoffed as she flung it away from her. It was just the water bill. There was suddenly a slight buzzing on her thigh and when she looked down, her face morphed to confusion. She pulled out her phone and flipped the screen to face her to see who was calling- 

“Damn it all.” She snarls. Of course the universe wanted to play a cruel joke on her. The image on the screen was in Damona’s younger days, when she was wearing a ruby dress with scalloped-edges on the bottom with her feet encased in heels that made her heels bleed, and next to her was her sister- wearing her Navy Whites as the two posed for the camera. Damona thought her sister was joking when she said that she wanted to join the Navy. “For what purpose would the Navy serve you?” Was the question the younger twin sister demanded and all the older twin said was, “It will give me opportunities that no university would offer.” 

And true to her word, the Navy did give her older twin something that no university could offer. A chance to see the world and bring relief when it was needed. Damona blinks as she stares at herself, her white hair was pulled into a braid dotted with red lilies while her twin sister had her’s in a bun with her Sailor’s hat in hand. Back then, they were so happy. Together after nearly six months of being away from each other. The younger twin hated to admit that she missed her eldest and how quiet she was. She missed the smell of lilies or soil that would follow the woman around when she entered the house. 

She missed how her sister would know exactly what to do if she was overwhelmed by work or if she was simply out of her mind. Their “twin-connection” was strong and after the eldest twin was deployed around the world to better the wildlife and to culture the poorer countries to have better access to food and water, their connection grew thin and the youngest twin slipped away. She had a bigger mission to deal with. Her sister was put on the metaphorical back-burner. 

Until the naive blonde lover of her sister’s got hurt and was honorably discharged. 

Lily reached out, wanting to rekindle the lost familial flame and for a moment, when Damona first got the call- she wanted to pick up and talk to her sister. But it had been six years, six long grueling years of blood, sweat, and tears to build this Clan from nothing into something . So when her sister called, she hung the call and pushed onward. She will NOT be weak. She can’t show weakness. Her sister was a part of her, a part that was kind and soft- and being soft means that you will be taken advantage of and you’ll be left behind. Damona will not be soft. She refuses to be connected or known for her relation to a pathetic part of her life. 

The phone stopped buzzing and the icon for a missed call popped up. But not two minutes later, a message from Lily popped up, a simple hi, then a longer message followed saying: “Hey Damona! Sorry if you’re busy but I was thinking of visiting the city for a bit. I need some fresh air and I thought maybe we could meet up! Get some tea at that Tea House we always liked in high school. I could pay too! I hope you’re having a good day. Love you.”

Such a pathetic thing. Damona stamps out that small lingering hope as her thumb hovers over the text message, she swipes the message away, and then places the phone screen down so she could close her eyes. Her fingers pinched the bridge of her nose as she inhaled slowly, that gentle throbbing of her head slowly ramped up as it echoed in her ears. She exhales with her shoulders dropping and her body slightly slouching. These migraines always happened whenever her sister’s presence was around. How her insufferable sister’s flowers wafted from the phone to the room is beyond the matriarch, regardless, the woman has a headache now. 

“I swear to everything that is unholy and crooked-” she starts to snip but the doors open and her head rises to see who is entering. She pauses when a small child waddles into the room, with a massive mushroom hat and holding a crudely made purple mushroom plush with several patches of different fabrics sewed on the doll. The child blinks sleepily and the woman composes herself quickly. “My dear Prynce, did you have a nightmare?” She asked, turning her chair to the side as she stood. Her imposing exterior melts into a bendable form as she leans down to scoop up the child who happily hugs her neck, their mushroom cap slowly starts to fall back from their head. 

“Mmmhm- I miss Lee… I want… him back.” The child mutters as they sleepily mumble something after. The woman pauses at the nickname, her face scrunching for a moment as her mind flashes to a bakery on 57th Street where an ex-member of the Clan works. “I know… I know you miss Lee… I miss him too.” 

Lee (or Lawrence) was a member of the Clan. A man with the ability to turn into a puddle of black ooze was tossed away by society after his dream to be a hero was crushed by the countless cruel words that recruiting officers snarled at him. He was kicked out from his home, left to starve and wander the world, until Damona found him. She took the poor boy in and raised him to be proud of himself but she supposed that the bakery with a blind man made his world that much better. She observed the blind baker and the bakery’s history was delivered to her within three minutes, and while she looked over the history, she let the one member of her close circle slip from her fingertips and she lost him. 

She can’t be angry though. In the depths of her heart and soul, she knows that Lee is doing better mentally and as much as she sours at the mention of the bakery, she can’t find it in herself to hate Lee for leaving the Clan. She told him that if he ever wishes to return, then he would be welcomed with open arms. He is always welcomed and ready to be loved again. But he has yet to return to her. ‘At least he keeps the facade of a family friend to Prynce,’ the matriarch thought as she left the room. The halls she walked through were buzzing with recruits and members, bowing and tipping their heads to her as she passed, she felt the air shift to obey her. 

She was imposing and for the others to recognize this meant that they understood their place in the Clan and to her, that means a well-oiled machine working to her vision. The woman of white hair slowly stepped up the stairs as she reached for the bedroom halls; everyone was given a room to sleep and customize to their liking, she sees it as an offer of independence to the members of the Clan, and for them to feel included. It’s sort of the same deal with the “prison”. 

She never saw the reason for making a cell so inhabitable. She made sure the cells were decently clean; have a bed with a nightstand bolted to the floor, a small window for fresh air, and some books for the prisoner to read if they were bored. And if a prisoner tried to break out by means of  their powers, then they would be disappointed to find the cells reinforced with the same numbing metal that most prisons use for their cell blocks. The “prison” is empty (thankfully) but the woman isn’t afraid to have someone in the cell. And depending on how the festival mission goes, she might be placing their target in a cell until she either agrees or willing opens herself to join their cause. 

The mistress of the Clan reached a dark lavender door, slowly opening the creaky wood to slowly step into the room full of mushroom night-lights with glow-in-the-dark stars dotting the ceiling, she set the sleepy child in the bed and removed their cap. She tucked the blankets and stuffed the extra pillows around the sleeping child, she paused her movements from leaving as she lowered her hand to comb out the small tangles in the child’s hair. 

Prynce was an orphan found by Patience and Red when the Clan was just starting to branch out. They were deathly sick, barely able to eat, and so very malnourished. Damona believed that they were left to be dead. She demanded her son to find out where the parents were, hoping that they were alive or they died trying to protect the child. Red investigated the surrounding areas, talking with rookies who were from the same area, and the truth came out: the parents were neglectful and left the care of the infant to an aging grandmother who passed away and the child was passed from one bad person to another, until they were abandoned. Left to die. 

It angered Damona. Her rage bubbling as she sat by the child’s side, whispering soft promises to care for them- to love them like a mother should. Red already took up the brotherly role with most rookies, so it was no surprise for her to see the “general” of the Clan visiting the sickly child. But what made her heart warm was Lee, a small and fragile boy who had horrible crippling self-doubt and was broken inside and out by society, staying by the younger’s side and slowly getting them to wake up. Damona saw how Lee lit up whenever Prynce called out to him- even when the younger child’s speech was slurred and delayed (a symptom of being tossed and banged around like a doll), Lee was by their side and calling them little brother. 

Even now, when Damona takes Prynce to the Swirls and Pearls bakery to see Lee- she sees how he lights up as the child waddles in and hugs him tight. Her relationship with Lee is strained but all she needs is one look at him to see how much he’s grown into his own person and she must respect that he doesn’t need to depend on her. He has grown. 

The head of the clan leaned down to kiss the temple of the child, whispering goodnight, and slowly left the room while gently closing the door. She stood at the child’s door, her mind flickering between the grains of purple-stained wood as she recalled Lee painting the door while Prynce recovered. He insisted that the younger stay with him, he was willing to share his room. Even after the mushroom child moved in, Lee made the room more for the other occupant rather than his own. And when he “moved out”, the room was redecorated to have more mushrooms and plants for the child to marvel and grow. 

Prynce always had a better green thumb than her. She briefly wonders if her sister would give the little one tips on how to care for certain plants, or give them a plant as a gift. The head of the Clan shook her head to wave away the thoughts of her sister, to push away the headache that would surely form if she kept thinking about her sister. 

She turned to walk down the halls, her mind slowly carrying her to her own bedroom which was less than impressive. It was red with the curtains being pitch black to block out the sun, her bed was covered in plush covers with many pillows fluffed up to properly cushion her head, and her vanity was covered in papers, brushes, and someone occupied her plush stool. Patience was combing her long hair from their bun confinement and her headwear of crystals were gently placed on a mannequin head to preserve the fragile rocks. 

Damona moved to the opposite side of the room to undress from her flowing red and black spade dress into her nightgown, her hands unwinding the strings and pulling the zipper down, her eyes closed to relieve the pressure pounding against her skull as her body moved on autopilot. She gathered her nightgown in her hands, fingers smoothing over the silk fabric as she placed it over her head to wear for the night. Patience wasn’t far behind as she stood and gently pushed in the stool of the vanity, both women moved to the bed to rest their backs and let their aching arches rest after a long day of walking, pacing, and traveling all over the building. You could easily get your 10,000 steps from simply walking around the Clan of Darkness’ building alone. 

“Tomorrow will be better. I’ll take Prynce to the bakery to see Lawrence.” Damona hums as she turns her head to look into the other’s eyes, “Be kind. I know you like to “tease” but I would like to keep Lee around for Prynce’s sake. Understood?” She commanded. Both women blinked slowly as the woman of red crystals turned to crawl over the taller. Patience’s body rests gently atop of Damona’s, their lips meeting for a short but welcomed kiss. “I will hold my tongue,” the other promises as she pulls back. 

Damona raises her hands to rest on the other’s hips, Patience lowers her head to rest above the spot where the leader’s heart beats a steady rhythm, and both lay there in a held peace. Damona closes her eyes as she envisions the world tomorrow; people respecting each other, Destructives allowed to roam free with no fear of retribution, and her at the top, with the once proud Heroes bowing to her as she commands for their titles to be stripped and her next mission to free all society from the chains it has bore since the beginning of time. 

There will be no children starving. 

No people suffering. 

No one is forced to hide. 

Everyone will be free. It may not be shared by the world at the moment, but her plan will succeed. It must succeed. 

Chapter Text

A high-pitch twing echoes in the small room as the nimble fingers drop with gravity onto the parted thighs of the musician. The woman of pink hair stares at the sheet music half-hazardly propped up by her books and her phone holding the papers upright, instead of letting them slip from the table. With the harp settled between her legs as Aphrodite looks at the sheet music again. Her face pinching with her mouth set downwards; her ivy eyes pierced the paper, narrowing her pupils as if she could combust the sheet music into flames. 

Unfortunately, her power is not to make random objects combust to ash. She’s disappointed as the papers stayed completely untouched; she turned to her harp, eyes closing for a moment to let her fingers drift over the taunt strings. Repeating the music- her fingertips were numb, continuously plucking the strings against the fat of her fingers and starting to wear down on her small limbs, and when she repeated the same motions again and again, her hands were begging for a break. 

“One more time, one more time,” as she plucked the strings. Her mind knows the music- it knows how to play the notes, and it can envision the music notes playing around her. It’s been her life; playing this damned instrument. She was put through program after program: she went through the grueling process of music school to achieve her Master’s, she went through friendships like an alcoholic drinking their vice. Honestly; she was surprised that she was able to keep the other four roommates as her friends for so long. She surely thought they would have evicted her within the first month- yet five months later, they were closer than her parents ever were to her. 

The thought of her parents made her index miss a string: causing the beautiful flow of music and strings to jerk out of tune, and soon, her fingers followed suit; causing a dysfunctional flow of music to echo in her room. The woman sat back with face pinching as she dropped her head in her hands. The tips buzzed like her hand had fallen asleep; the fuzzy numbness made her feel lost in the haze of frustration, her headache wasn’t making her practice any better. 

The festival was in a month- four weeks, 30 days, and here she was, messing up her practice and getting more frustrated as her mistakes were more prominent than her perfection. She hates to admit that she was willing to sacrifice this time of practice for a nap. Her mother’s voice snipped at her for thinking of such a sacrifice; “Practice is important. Don’t sacrifice your life’s work for some selfish desire.” It’s something her mother and father drilled into her. 

Sometimes, she’s glad she moved across the country to work for a different company that actually respected her work and her low-iron. 

Aphrodite raised her head; her eyes latching onto the small clear case full of iron supplements. She glanced back at the sheet music; back to the small case, then to her bed, she could lay down for an hour or two; get up and eat dinner with the others, then practice some more until ten when everyone collectively retreated to their beds to sleep. Worst thing she could do is ask Cici to take her to the studio and make him stay with her as she practices her piece. The blueberry designer has been working on her dress since the dress incident.

Sal and herself guarded him until they got to the car and drove to a fast-food spot to just sit in the parking lot. Cici was out of it, dissociating while the other two signed to give him time to come out of the dark place he was in. “It was my ex, he was… he had someone…” That was all he could muster to say. The pinkette pouted and kissed the top of the designer’s head as she leaned  into the back seat, her pout may have been full of pity but her eyes were narrowed and almost seemed to glow. Sal told her she “looked like a green-eyed monster.” But she wasn’t full of envy, she was full of rage.

The harpist inhaled slowly, letting her body lean against the chair as she let her hands fall to her sides. The headache pounded with her movements, as if rejecting her movements. The woman  frustratedly sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, relieving little of the headache that was starting to become a migraine which stemmed from her low-iron. 

Her iron medication was just barely pushing her to stay awake for a full day, she needed to double her dose to stay awake. She was lucky that her medicine was an everyday pill bottle that relieved her from headaches and gave her body the push it needed to produce iron for her blood cells. Low-Iron Deficiency Anemia is a bitch to deal with. 

The pinkette never understood where the anemia came from; all she knows is that she fainted at practice one day and then when she woke up in the hospital, she was hooked up with IV’s and her parents were speaking in hushed voices; her fainting spell came from the lack of oxygen being produced in her red blood cells so she was put on at least six different iron-filled oral medications to see which did the best for keeping her iron up. The sixth medication worked up until her graduation from private school.

Radley was there to catch her thankfully after she walked off the stage with her diploma. He took her off to the side and switched their graduation caps after everyone threw their’s in the air. The woman was eternally grateful for the brute’s gentle nature when it came to her. In un; he was protective and made sure she was safe whenever her iron tanked, always asking if she took her medication, making sure she was hydrated and had a granola bar in her bag. 

The woman sighs as a groan slips from her lips when she opens her eyes weakly. She could take the medicine, lay down, get up and eat (maybe ask Radley to give her something full of iron, he knows the best recipes. Gods bless that man and his mama). 

But the mere thought of getting up; taking the pills, then spending 30 minutes finding some kind of heartbeat to soothe her mind, and laying down sounded like a nightmare- she just wanted to find a warm body, curl on it, and let the heartbeat soothe her to sleep. ‘I’m not lazy, I just have a taste,’ she thought to herself. She hates being lazy, being called lazy was a bigger insult than being called “big”. But… Laziness is also treating yourself to a moment to relax. She despises being told she’s lazy; she has a damn good reason to be lazy when she’s light-headed. She distantly recalls one ex snorting when she said she didn’t feel well and wanted to relax instead of going out to some carnival that came around every year. 

“You’re just being lazy. You’re gonna be fineee. Just take those pills like crack and let’s go!” He cheered. He was a crocky son of a bitch but Aphrodite can’t deny that he was fun to hang around when he needed his fill of fun. ‘He was still a cocky asshole,’ she thought with a snort. The harp player glanced to the side where her phone sat so innocently: waiting for her to pick it up and find a heartbeat rhythm to sleep to, but… she really doesn’t want to be alone. 

‘Maybe Radley would be willing to let me nap on him while he meditates or reads his archeology magazines,’ she thought optimistically. The woman carefully set her harp off to the side of her room and stood; stretching like a cat and twisting her torso around to pop her bones, she snagged her phone, her favorite pink blanket with multi-colored hearts; and went searching for her friend. Despite what many assume of the brute, his outlandish and sometimes dangerous personality simmers to ash as soon as someone he cares about asks for help. Aphrodite smiles fondly when she recalls the first time she ever asked about his family. 

His family is a sacred thing to him. He doesn't like boasting or talking about his family without knowing if the person he's talking to understands where his family comes from. When someone hears that his family still does blood sacrifices at festivals for the Aztec gods- they either ask to clarify what he meant (which is the correct response) OR call the police and report it as a “crime about to be committed” (which is the incorrect response). When Radley informed Aphrodite asked about his family, she was captivated by the events and begged the brute to let her attend a festival. (Sue her- she wanted to meet the family. She's been informed by the brute that his mom demanded Radley to bring her to a festival. Threatening to sacrifice him if he didn’t bring Aphrodite to the next festival). 

A family that originated from the time of the Aztecs, they worshipped the gods throughout the generations; far too steeped in the Aztec culture to leave. Despite the families living all over South America and on the islands of Hawaii- they came together for all Aztec holidays. On the plane over, Radley gave the basics of what the festival was celebrating: “It’s celebrating the deity of hunt, Mixcoalt, the men will dress up like the god. Obviously, we can't sacrifice people, so we just use chickens or goats.” Aphrodite will say that she needs to see how the other three roommates would react when attending a holiday for the Aztecs. She would be blessed to see Sal and Cici wearing the ceremonial garments made in an image of a god; especially being painted with red and white stripes.

The pinkette wandered out of her room to approach the door on her far left, and knocked. She waited outside with her head steadily pounding as her legs felt like they were going to crumble into a pile of rubble. She knocked again and then opened the door, finding the room empty. She pouted as she closed the door, then went to Sun’s room, and like the former- empty. The harpist’s left eye twitched as her frustration started to boil, her nerves simmering as her legs cried for her to lay down somewhere so she could rest finally. The woman turned her head to the end of the hall where the only painted door of all five rooms was slightly cracked and if the woman leaned back a little, she could see a potential victim of her impromptu nap. 

The woman skipped to the room and knocked, perking up the designer from his desk. “Yo?” He called, his eyes lit up as the pinkette entered the room. “Hey Sugar, you good?” He inquired. Then he saw the blanket and noticed how her left eye was twitching, “Nap. Now.” She demanded, pointing at the male’s bed. “Pfft, can’t at the moment. I need to finish embroidering the pearls on your wings.” He pushed his rolling chair back to show the dress he’s been working on since the dress incident. 

After the five had dinner, the male pulled the pink woman to the side and apologized for ruining the shopping trip. She told him that there was no need to say sorry, afterall; if she saw an ex that she was dating for five years and considered marrying to then only be broken up, she would’ve had the same reaction. She saw how the other’s cerulean and sapphire eyes wrinkle with worry, she tried to reassure the man that she was going to buy a simple dress online and at first, he was fine with it. Until the dress came in. 

Aphrodite was never the best at taking her measurements, unless the sizes said Small, Medium, Large, XLarge, etc… She didn’t know her measurements. She eyeballed her waist and hip measurement and purchased a dress from some small business shop. She’s been wanting to purchase something from this store and she had an excuse this time. But when the dress came in…

It was massive, floofy, and puffy. And not in a good way. 

Aphrodite scrambled to Sun, who was thankful home and begged her to help her put this dress on. It was too small and even when the two figured out how to adjust the corset back, the bottom half poofed out like it was trying to hide a baby bump. Sun, bless her gods, tried to help Aphrodite cut away the excess, make it slimmer and not so foolish looking. “What is the dress even supposed to look like?” The two looked at the picture which showed a beautiful baby pink dress with a ruffles coat splitting from the front to the back- like an umbrella made of ruffles, it also had these pure white scallops with pearls and pink diamonds stitched into the scallops. And the whole reason why Aphrodite purchased the dress in the first place was because of a moth motif embroidered into the main dress with winged-mantua resting over the hips.

“It’s supposed to be like a Rococo French dress. You know- pre French Revolution!” Aphrodite cried after she struggled to fit the dress over her hips. There are times when she wished was a little skinnier, where her hips and legs were less chubby and her body wasn’t molded with extra clay. Her past boyfriends and one girlfriend said that she was gorgeous but modern clothing says otherwise.

Sun tried to ask the pinkette to get Cici for help but the pinkette was already so distressed about the dress that asking from the designer was a poison she would not take. “He’ll be so angry with me!” She cried out. The boys were out helping Sal with some shopping (since the Target incident, the boys have offered to do the shopping for the girls’ sake) and Aphrodite was so set on making the dress work that she refused to let Sun call any of the boys. (The woman literally took Sun’s phone and hid it from her so she couldn’t call). 

But when the guys came back, Aphrodite hid; outright refusing to come out. Sun had to give the rundown to the boys who hissed in sympathy; they were all victims of false advertisements for clothing. “It’s not that bad, Pinkie. I’m sure Cici can style it better.” Radley commented, standing outside of the woman’s room but she was so mortified by how the dress fitted and fluffed around her, she refused to come out.

Until the smell of dinner enticed her. 

The boys bought pizza and Sun was trying to coax the woman out. The pale interpreter gently reassured the harpist that the boys won’t laugh, Cici will not get mad at her, and he offered to modify the dress so it fit her better. Aphrodite said she needed a minute to prepare herself mentally and the four waited in the living room. At that moment, looking back, the woman really should’ve just asked Cici to make a dress for her. 

She opened her door and slowly peaked around the corner, her hands shaking as she peered from the corner. Radley had unhelpfully rearranged the room for a fifth time that week and the furniture was arranged to be facing the corner where Aphrodite would come out. Cici was laying across the sofa, his head on Sal’s lap while his legs were propped up by Radley’s legs. Sun was sitting on the sofa chair, three were eating pizza while Cici was on his phone. Aphrodite hid back and shakily called out, “Fucking promise me you won’t laugh.” She cursed. Radley shouts his agreement while Cici says, “Honey- I have seen people try to justify using women’s pads as a dress for “fashion” and turn it into a laughing meme on the internet. Whatever you got on cannot be any worse than that.”

The pink woman highly doubts it as she steps out from the corner and lets the full horrifying glory of the dress be revealed to the boys. Sal choked on his pizza while Radley dropped his jaw, as Cici dropped his phone on his chest. Sun flinched when the half-hazard attempts to slim down the ruffles and puffiness of the dress made it look more crooked and overall; made the dress look worse. The harpist stood there, her lip trembling as she waited for someone to do something. 

And although she loves Radley like a brother, when he bursted out laughing and wheezing; she wants to kill him. 

“What- what in Mētztli are you wearing!?” He laughed, falling back and laughing loudly like a hyena. Sal stared but anyone could tell that he was trying not to laugh alongside the historian while Cici stared with horror in his eyes. Sure enough, the statement he made earlier was easily revoked. Sun shook her head as she covered her eyes, already knowing what was going to happen if Radley didn’t stop laughing in five seconds. Aphrodite’s lips trembled more as her body recoiled on itself, looking to hide away and flee from the cruel laugh from her brother-like figure. “Oh… Oh Aphrodite, what happened?” Cici commented with his body frozen as he kept fleeting his eyes from one horrible part to another. 

It didn’t take long for the waterworks to break. 

As soon as Aphrodite let out a sob, all laughter was silenced and Cici was up and coming over to hug the poor woman to comfort her. Sun turned to Sal and slapped his chest as she stood. Both male roommates sat on the sofa, guilt crawling up their throats as the pinkette’s cries crescendoed a little more as Sun and Cici tried to calm her. The trio returned to the pinkette’s room to help her out of the dress and even when she was out of the dress and in her pj’s, she was still crying.

The other two roommates eventually apologized and after everyone had gone to sleep, Cici snuck into Aphrodite’s room to wake her up and bring her to his room. “We are going to make a dress from scratch. That dress was atrocious and I refuse to let you wear such an ugly piece of crap.” He stated as she pulled out his notebook and started making notes and pulled out a roll of measuring tape. The blue-haired man measured the pinkette’s hips, her waist, her bust, and everything. Then they sat down to discuss what the pinkette intended when she bought the dress. “The piece I wrote is supposed to be like a lullaby. Something soft but sophisticated, and I thought the Rococo dresses were pretty…” She explained. 

The designer nodded and he was very quick to draw up sketches of what the pinkette wanted. “If the dress is going to be a variety of shades of purples and some pinks, does that mean you're going to dye your hair purple?” He asked that night. The musician hummed as she looked through Cici’s portfolio from university, “Maybe… I always loved how my hair goes light from the top then dark at the tips. But I don’t know if it’ll work with hair dye. Everyone just assumes that I dyed my hair pink so I never tried anything with it. I did cut it short one time… not the best idea for five-year-old me.” 

The two continued to talk through the late night until roughly one am when the two of them collapsed into bed. Aphrodite was happily snuggled on top of the designer, listening to his heartbeat and filled with content sleep. Although, she did feel a draft of cold air that stirred her awake. When she turned her head, she swears that the window of Cici’s room was closed before they fell asleep but, she thought that perhaps it was slightly cracked open before they slept. But she can’t help but feel as if she was fooling herself. 

Aphrodite pouted as she looked at the blue-haired designer, “But nap.” She whined softly as she stamped her feet like a child throwing a small tantrum. Cici snorts softly and lets the dress end sit on his lap as he reaches over to his desk to grab a small tray of pearls, “Darling- you can just lay on the bed and I’ll put on some heartbeat white noise. Then after I finish the beading, I’ll take a nap.” He compromised. The woman squinted before nodding; finding the compromise to be worth it. She moved towards the bed to set up her “nest” of blankets and then got herself curled up in the bed as the designer slowly stood to go over to his phone on the nightstand to find some white noise with heartbeats. As the other looked through his phone, the ivy green eyes looked around the room. 

It was all blue with blue curtains, blue comforter and sheets, closet doors painted blue with blue bookshelves and even blue shoes! The floor was thankfully wood but there were at least three blue rugs, the desk was a long metal desk with blue pens, earasers, lamps, and even a blue mug. The mannequin that the dress Cici was working on was blue! She thought it was funny how strict Cici was about his room being one color, her eyes drifted back to the closet and she saw the variety of blue-colored shirts, cardigans, and sweaters. 

Until her eyes caught onto a small doll on the top shelf of the closet. 

She sat up, head tilted curiously, and moved across the room to look at the doll, Cici glanced at her before returning to his phone screen. Aphrodite reached up and picked up the doll; it was a little jester clown with pale blue ruffles, a black body with small sapphire diamonds stitched into the legs, it had one all black arm with high ruffled cuffs while the other arm was all white with the same white cuffs; then the “hair” was two long quills with the top being an ombre of dark to sky blue but “under” the hair was black with stitched blue eyes, on top of the doll’s head was a milk white crown with two curls bangs hanging on the head. The doll’s eyes were buttons; one dark navy blue and the other was black, and there was even a little symbol on the doll’s left eye.

“Cici- how adorable! Did you make this?” The designer hummed as he turned around. He paused his movements when he found his roommate holding the old jester doll, her eyes were wild with gleam and awe, her face was split into a soft smile as her thumbs rubbed over the cerulean face of the plush. Warmth subtly brushes over his face as he observes the soft and innocent look on the woman’s face, something he violently tries to push down. “Oh… Ah, no. It was a gift from my late father.” 

The woman turned her jade emerald eyes to meet his, emotions brewed in her eyes- curiosity, worry, pity, and her lip bumped a little to a small frown with her brows furrowing. “Oh… I’m sorry- I didn’t-” She turned to look at the doll and slowly started to put it back on the shelf. 

“It’s alright. You can hold onto him. I’m sure he’ll enjoy some company.” Cici said Surprising himself as he blinked, unsure where the words suddenly fumbled. The pink-curled woman turned back to him, her hands folding on the doll to be pressed against her chest as she hugged the plush, “Are you sure? I can put him back-” She started to say, her expression said everything opposite of what she said. 

Cici felt the warmth return on his cheeks as he shook his head, “No, no. Seriously, you can hold him. In fact, how about you let the little guy keep you company until I nap with you? I’m sure he would be more than happy to provide you company.” The pinkette looked back to the doll and lowered her lips to press a small kiss on its head. “Sure! I’m positive he wouldn’t mind taking a nap.”

She returned to the bed and curled her body to engulf the toy, she burrowed her head into the pillows as she pulled the blankets over her shoulders, Cici smiled as he watched the pinkette get comfortable. “What’s his name?” She asked, her eyes slowly closing as a steady heartbeat white noise echoes in the room. “Jester. I named him Jester when I was younger.” Cici answered softly as he returned to his seat. 

He tries to not look back at the woman with his doll, but it’s hard to resist when he sneaks a look and feels as if the doll was smiling at him- thanking him for letting him out of the closet and having some quality time with a person. The woman hums as she lets her body slump, her arms locked around the doll protectively, and as her eyes close, Cici smiles at the woman curled happily over a doll. He’s happy that the little guy has someone holding him.

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The door to his room opened and the designer turned to see Sal peaking in, “*SUGAR WHERE?” Cici nods his head to the bed where the pinkette is happily curled into a cocoon of blankets with her face buried in the pillows. Sal “ah’s” as he enters, he slowly closes the door and waves at Cici to grab his attention, “*QUESTION HAVE- PASTA O-R E-N-C-H-I-L-A-D-A-S?” Cici hums as he pictures the food and raises his hand to sign number two. Sal nods but before he moves to leave, the pinkette suddenly jerks up. Starling the mute man; the designer stays still- ready to ease the woman back to sleep. 

Sometimes, sometimes, the woman will jerk awake and pinpoint who is in the room, then she’ll “pounce” on them. Why? So she could drag them to take a nap with her. 

“Nap.” She stated, staring at Sal. The heliotrope-dread-loc man sighs and nods in surrender. Then the pinkette looks at Cici and raises one eyebrow. “Okay, okay. I’m coming.” The sapphire designer sets his tray of pearls and needle on the table so he could stand and stretch, then go to the bed to lay down. The woman unfurls from her cocoon and drags both males into the bed, Sal laying on his back while Cici curls on his right side- letting the pinkette dwarf the both of them with the blankets, comforters and her body sprawls atop of them. Her body perfectly slots between the two without poking them with her bones or limbs. Cici rests his right arm over the woman’s shoulder and rubs his head against the pillow. 

Sal turns his head to look at the duo, he raises his hands to sign something but his left arm is trapped by the pinkette. “Comfy?” Cici asks the duo. Sal nods and signs that he’s comfortable while the pinkette hums as she curls around the doll, “Myes- very comfy.” She mutters. The taller male scrunches his nose as he points to the doll, “*T-O-Y FROM WHERE? SEEN BEFORE NEVER.” The pinkette coos as she raises her head, “It’s Cici’s. It’s a cute jester doll. I want one.” Then faceplants into the pillows. 

Cici laughs, “If we get an Ouija Board, we can try to summon my dead father to ask him where he got the doll.” It was a joke, really, there are so many times that Sun, Sal, or Radley would scold the designer or harpist for making jokes about summoning the dead. “Sensitive bunch” Aphrodite would joke affectionately. It was all in good fun; listening to one of the three roommates complain how the Dead work in horror movies, accurate or not, was fun. They always had good commentary for poorly executed horror movies involving the dead. 

Sal’s garnet eyes widened as he wildly shifted to sit upright (slightly struggling because the pinkette was pinning him to the bed), his hand wildly signed ‘no’ over and over- getting a laugh out of Cici. “I’m joking, Sal-Pal. I know you would kill us if we used that cursed board.” The woman hummed and raised her head again to announce, “But it’s tempting.”

Sal snorts, “*O-U-I-J-A BOARD DANGEROUS!” The designer nods as he replies, “I know. I know. But you would think a guy from New Orleans would want to have fun with a demonic board that communicates with the dead.” He earned a slap on the shoulder from the mute man. The pinkette shifts her face to look at the taller, “Sal- do you celebrate Mardi Gras? Or like- partake in it?” The spa-therapist hums as he makes a “so-so” motion, “*YES. MARDI GRAS MASSIVE EVENT. MY FAMILY LOVE BUT LOUD MUSIC AWFUL.” The two roommates nod. “I get it. I hate when it’s too loud. That’s why I am bringing earplugs to the festival. They always play loud music that’s too cheesy or mediocre for my taste.”

At the mention of the festival, Aphrodite groaned loudly and planted her face again into the pillows- groaning into them. “*WRONG WHAT?” Sal signed while pointing at the back of Aphrodite, Cici shrugged. The two males waited until the musician raised her head, but instead, she shifted to be laying on her back. Her head rested on Cici’s shoulder while her back rested mostly against Sal’s front. “I have been stressed about the festival.” She admits. Her left hand plays with the crown on the doll’s head while her right squeezes the body of the plush. 

“Are you worried about the dress or the performance?” Cici specified. Aphrodite didn’t respond at first. Her face pinching as she inhaled slowly- the confession sitting on her tongue as her lips dry like a dessert, her stomach curls nauseously as she takes a moment to collect herself. “I’m scared she’s going to be in the audience. Watching me. Seeing me perform. Judging me.” She spat out with vigor but behind the snip, her voice was full of dread and unease.

Honestly, when her director told her that she was going to perform an original piece at the festival- she was so excited! She was going to play for an audience and while there aren’t any scouts from prestigious companies in the audience, her performance will still be acknowledged and maybe she’ll get a little recognition from the media. A Destructive performing at a Festival for a Hero. Something “unheard of”. 

But then she found out the festival was being dedicated to Lady Moon. 

She felt all the blood drain from her face, her hand shook as her legs wobbled like a swaying tower of brittle twigs. She was going to be sick. Of all the heroes- of any of the heroes who will bask in the glory of a festival being dedicated to them- the one festival being made where she was going to perform- it had to be the woman who broke her when she was young. Aphrodite thought it was a cruel twist of fate. Forcing her to accept the offer and perform for a hero who simply looked down on her for being in a class of people that could never amount to being a hero. Much less a hero that would be alongside Lady Moon and her fellow heroes. 

Aphrodite almost went to the director- to tell him that she couldn’t do it- she absolutely refused to be humiliated by the moon hero again after all these years. For the pinkette to play her harp before an audience who are there solely for music about the Moon Hero- it made her sick. She had to rewrite her whole piece just to fit with the Moon. Granted, she liked this rewrite more but… Still. It hurts. 

“I… It’s the Moon Hero. She’s supposedly going to be there to take pictures and all that crap. And…” Aphrodite’s hold on the doll tightened as she inhaled sharply. Her memories of her younger days- staring at a TV with Lady Moon dancing across the stars with her vigilante friend- stopping some half-ass villain from leveling a whole block of stores and a massive fountain dedicated to the Heroes. She remembers turning to her mother and telling her that she’ll become a hero, just like Lady Moon. And back then, her mother let her dream blissfully unaware. But after the museum… she was thrown into the work of a harp. She never got to be happy, she couldn’t look at a poster or figurine of Lady Moon again. 

“Lady Moon is going to be in that audience, watching me, completely unaware of who I am. And… And I have to play a song for her! A woman who just…” The pinkette didn’t hold back the tears as she hiccuped quietly. Arms wrapped around her shoulders and her body was engulfed with warmth on both sides, the soft hushes from a designer echoed and swallowed the cries in the room while Sal’s calm presence brought some relief to her emotional mind. 

The mute man shuffled upright, pulling the pink-curled woman up and once she wiped her tears with a hiccup, he signed to her, “*WHY PERFORM IF LADY MOON HURT YOU?” Cici rested his head on the woman’s shoulder while rubbing her opposite shoulder and tracing unintelligible patterns on her back. “Because… it’s a performance that only comes around once. I’ve- I’ve never been given the opportunity to perform a solo. It’s a dream every musician has. A big stage… full of people watching you as you play a song that captivates them all. A string of music put together by my hands flowing through the audience’s ears. It’s a picture every solo musician wants to have. My parents expect me to perform. Lady Moon is expecting me to perform.”

Aphrodite adds bitterly, “Even if she doesn’t remember me.” Cici and Sal looked at one another. Being a child and told that she couldn’t be a hero because of her power- it would break anyone. But then for it to be reinforced by parents, teachers, and society- it just shows how fucked up the test of power has become. At first, it was meant to distinguish who could be a hero but now… it’s just a method to out who is harmless and who needs to be locked in metaphorical chains. Sal huffs gently as he reaches out to wipe away some stray tears from the cheeks of the musician, “*UPSET FEELING YOU HAVE, TWO-OF-US UNDERSTAND. AND IF YOU WANT, CICI - I BOTH SIT, WATCH, CHEER. TWO-OF-US SIT AND WAIT FOR-FOR YOU FINISH.” 

Cici nods, “Yeah- the two of us can be in the audience and we can cheer you on after you finish. Then the five of us can go to Swirls and Pearls for some cupcakes! I know that you’ve been wanting to chat with Lee and Claude, then after, I’m sure we can drop by Yarn Granny’s shop. Granny Clara would be happy to chat with us while Sun drags Radley around the yarn shop.” The pink-haired woman laughs softly, she leans back into the body of Cici while holding Sal’s hands as she sniffles, “Yeah… I’ve been meaning to see how Lee and Phoenix are doing. Poor Claude, he can’t confess for the life of him. Gotta tease him about it.” 

Sal chuckles silently with a shake of his shoulders while Cici snorts, “Sounds about right. Now!” He cheers, his hands wrapping around the woman’s waist and pulling her down to the bed. “Nap time!” He cheers. Sal isn’t far behind as he lays down too. Aphrodite giggles and sticks her tongue out, “You know- if someone didn’t know who we were, they would assume the three of us are dating or something.” She giggles. Sal rolls his eyes (but carries a faint dust of rose over his cheeks) and Cici cackles (pink much more obvious on his face) as he responds, “Yeah! Yeah, you’re not wrong.”

Eventually the three settle down for the nap. Aphrodite snuggled in the middle with the doll clutched to her chest, Sal on his side with one arm tucked under his head while the other rested on his hip, and Cici was on his side, hugging the pinkette as he fell into a small nap coma. As the trio slept, the other two roommates entered the home and loudly proclaimed that they were home. It forced Sal to get up and inform the other two that the roommates were fast asleep for a nap. But that didn’t stop Radley from entering the room, narrowing on Cici, and breaking into a run to “tackle” the other male, almost elbow slamming Cici in the hip. “UP BLUEBERRY MOTHERFUCKER! WE’RE COOKING NOW!” He crowed loudly as he manhandled the blue designer. 

Unfortunately, the woman in the bed was well-versed in smacking the shite out of the brute. What was only a fifteen-minute nap turned into the pink woman chasing Radley around the apartment (still holding onto the doll), Sal helping Sun prepare dinner, and Cici got back to threading the pearls onto the dress. At some point, Cici heard his name being called and after shouting that he was almost finished with the threading, he slowly lowered the end of the dress to make sure that it was properly threaded in place. 

The dress, in his opinion, was his best work. He’s never had to design something based on a moth. But he’ll admit it- he’s having fun designing. He, too, has a part in the festival- but he pulled his designs out and argued with the boss that his designs are for a runway, not a show for some hero he doesn’t care for. 

At first, he wanted to keep his designs in the show but over the months, he found himself in a slump of designs- unable to get inspiration to draw from the night sky. He’s seen better clothing articles than his, especially from younger recruits. The space to display the designs can be given to some of the interns at the company to show off their skills, there were a lot of good designers interning at the company and Cici doesn’t mind giving the spotlight to someone else in exchange that he could watch his roommate perform. 

The dress was a lilac-pink- the collar was almost like a turtleneck but with scalloped edges on the bottom, the moth was hand-stitched into the dress which has at least three layers of silk and cotton stuffed to make it poof like a ball gown without a girdle. The wings were lavender with purple accents; two small upside-down hearts with a thin stretch of fabric made the abdomen of the moth, the lower wings were massive and covered the bottom of the whole dress while the fore wings were outstretched and rest over the top of the dress; right where the form-fitting corset was laced with amethyst ribbon, the top of the dress was sort of bland but when the other woman sat down, her legs would spread the dress open to reveal the moth flaring its wings out. 

Cici was so fucking excited to finish this dress and to get the coral-curled woman to put it on. 

Imagining Aphrodite wearing one of his pieces of work brought a light flush of rose to his cheeks, making him perk right up like a prairie dog and his hands slapping his cheeks to hide his blush. His eyes widened while his mouth formed into a pout, he needed to stop blushing or else the others would tease him and he really doesn’t need to get all flustered right now. “CICI! Get YOUR BLUE ASS into this CHAIR or SO HELP ME-” The designer sighs loudly and gets up, stepping into the hallway and shouting back, “Literally AROUND the corner you SPICY ASS!” Cici made it to the table with less yelling and more sign language to Sal to piss off the brute. 

Halfway through the dinner, the pink-haired woman waves her fork at Sal and Sun, waving them down from their conversation in sign language, “Mm- the enchiladas are yummy! Did you guys add those Ghost Pepper spice flakes?” Aphrodite scooped another forkful of enchiladas to her mouth as she blinked at them. “No… We didn’t add any of those flakes except to Radley’s- aaannnddd, we got them mixed up again.” Sun sighs. Cici and Sal snort as the two friends look at one another and switch plates, but that doesn’t stop Radley from scooping some of the flakes to pop them on Aphrodite’s food. Which she happily dives into. 

Dinner was easily finished and then the decision of cleaning the dishes came into a small argument until four against one came to a decision. Radley would clean the dishes while Cici got Aphrodite to look over the dress while Sun showered, Sal helped clear off the table and sat on the sofa to start up a show for the five to watch. It wasn’t until Cici was sitting in his chair with the bottom layer of the dress resting in his lap did he see the pink woman still holding the doll. “You… Are you still holding him?” Cici asked, mentally noting how he completely forgot about the doll in the pinkette’s arms. 

Aphrodite looked down and nodded, “Yes. And I will be holding Jester hostage until you make me a doll like him!” Cici scoffed with a bewildered expression, “I can’t make a doll, hun. I have no idea how.” Aphrodite pouts with tut, turning her head to the side, “Oh well! Jester is my hostage otherwise then! From now until forever!” She leaned down as she squeezed the doll to herself and happily the top of the plushie’s head. If the doll was alive, it would surely be blushing a dark sapphire blue. 

Cici sighed with a smile, he shook his head and said, “Alrighty then- Jester,” He turned his chair to face the woman and the doll respectively, he addressed the plush with a sudden cold sensation sliver down his spine, but he ignores it in favor of making an order for the stuffed toy, “You keep the pink one less upset about her harp playing. Applaud for her when she practices.Compliment her when she succeeds in her practice. Shower her in praise and bow to her as if she was the Goddess of Music and Pink!” He commanded. 

Of course, the doll says nothing. 

Aphrodite giggles and squeezes the doll to her chest as she wiggles back and forth. “Now! Please my goddess, if you would please put on the dress to make sure that everything fits perfectly.” The woman sets the doll down on the bed and starts to undress- Cici- being the gentleman turned his chair around to look away, even covering the doll’s button eyes to give the woman some privacy. The designer heard the shift of fabric flap around, the small grunts as the pink woman gets the dress on with some wiggling, then the soft gasp as she finishes putting it on. There was a still of silence, whether it was good or bad was not made apparent to the designer yet. “Cici…” The woman finally mutters, her voice barely a whisper. 

The blueberry turns around and feels his heart leap to his throat. Aphrodite is much more godly in the dress than his imagination could conjure- she was elegance and held an air of danitiness, she was a ethereal woman who commanded attention but was so gentle with the world around her, and while the purples and pinks clashes from the light colors of the dress to her hair; she was still a goddess who looked like a fairytale princess stepping out of a storybook. He could imagine her being hunted down by every photographer, people adoring her online- always commenting on her, and he can’t help but feel a little jealous; he can never outshine her. Even when he shifts to a female version of himself, he knows that he is a speck of dust on her shoulders- invisible but he can see and adore her completely. 

“Cici… You’re just staring- is- do you think it looks good?” Aphrodite giggled, cupping her hands over her mouth as she looked ready to cry; from happiness or gratitude, she wasn’t sure. “You… You look beautiful. Like a goddess.” The woman blinks with a blush of rose dusting her cheeks, she turns to the mirror off in the corner of the room. 

It’s mostly hidden from the first look around the room but attached to the wall and in the shadow of the closet door is a body mirror that Aphrodite stands before. She does a spin, then another, and another until the dress flies out like a flower blooming from her touch. “Oh Cici-” She stutters, turning to the blueberry and yanking him into a hug, squeezing him until his back nearly snaps. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!” She shouts, jumping up and down. She releases the other and turns to the door, “I’m going to show the others!” And she was out the door, squealing and shouting at the others to drop whatever they were doing because she’s pretty and they need to see the dress. Cici falls back and slouches against the chair, then  looks at the doll. Jester has his head tilted and Cici is positive it's mocking him for how flustered he looks. “Shut up.” He pouts as he reaches over and flicks the doll’s head, making it fall backward onto the bed. 

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Aphrodite hums to herself as she combs her hair, taking long strokes as she flings the last piece of hair over her shoulder. She places her brush on the vanity and turns to her bed- rustled and looking like someone ransacked her bed, the blankets were pushed and twisted against the wall while her pillows her fluffed around the edges like it was cushioning the end, and finally a blue clown doll sat in the center and staring at her like it was silently demanding her to give him company. “Come one Jester! We’ll get some actual sleep and hopefully, Sal will be up early enough for me to get some pancakes from him. I have been craving pancakes.” She chats to the doll, turning off the lights and going to her phone. 

The screen is down to the lowest brightness and she presses play on the screen, the steady heartbeat echoes in the room as the woman climbs into the blanket/pillow-like nest and lays down. She pulls the doll to her chest, her chin tucking the head to her collarbone while the little arms limply hug her arms as she curls around the doll. Her ears take in the sounds of the heartbeat and slowly, her body goes slack. She always heartbeats to be the most comforting, it’s the body’s  instrument- making music that only the body can understand; a song that only the mind can listen and make words to and even when you take out the heart to replace it by machine- the song still sings inside. 

As the body of the woman slumps into a deep slumber. 

And the doll starts to shift around. 

He doesn’t mind being trapped under the chin of the lady but he would like to at least have the space to move around. The doll wiggles carefully slow; being sure to watch for the woman’s face as he slips from her iron-grip. He's able to pull his body from her hands but his legs are snagged between her thumb and index finger. So he slowly wiggles the weighted dried seeds out from her grip and rolls back against the blankets cocooning the woman and him. He takes a large “sigh of relief” and looks around the room, taking in the ungodly amount of pink and then looking at the phone. He looks at his nubs for hand and slowly waddles over to the phone, watching the screen replay the same sound of a heart pounding slowly. 

The doll can’t frown but if it could, it would frown because ouch- he doesn’t have a heart so he doesn’t know what it feels like. How was a heartbeat soothing? He doesn’t know. But that’s not why he’s risking being caught for. He glances to the pink woman as he slowly kneels and taps the home button on the phone. The first try results in nothing; a quick glance to the sleeping woman gives him enough reassurance to click the home screen button again. 

He tries again. 

Pressing the square button again and again. 

Then furiously presses the button with no luck. 

He climbs onto the phone screen and slams his foot onto the screen with nothing. 

He tries jumping up and down, up and down, over and over, his soft feet making no contact with the phone screen.

The stitched mouth can’t move but if it could, the doll would be cursing in every language current and dead. The doll eventually stood on top of where the square home button was and started jumping up and down, slapping, even kicking the screen while cursing at the idiotic technology. Oh- Oooohhhohoho- when he gets ahold of his body-

The phone suddenly entered the home screen and the doll stopped. Flapping his weighted arms around and T-posing on the screen as he looked over at the pinkette to see if she stirred from his antics. After a few seconds for the all clear, the doll knelt to the small hot bar on the top of the screen and rapidly tapped the search engine. Resulting in the same amount of time for him to get to the home screen, the hot bar popped up, the doll “sighed” as he stretched and “popped his limbs”. This was more of a workout than he’s ever gotten in this doll body. 

Jester slowly started to tap the keyboard, tapping the letter “p” with little success, so he started to rapidly tap the screen, frustration pooling into the stitching and he fumes as the hot bar stays blank. Jester spun around and jumped up and down on the nightstand, kicking his nubs for legs around while shaking his nub hands to the sky as if cursing out Sage- screeching silently, “How long is this going to take!?” 

The doll continued his little tantrum until he stopped. His stuffing brain started to turn the metaphorical gears as a lightbulb popped up in his head. He looked around the room, looking for a stylus similar to that Cici would use on his tablet when he was drawing or doodling. Surely, the pink-curled woman would have a stylus. And luckily, he saw one across the room on a window sill. Jester groans “out loud”. He stares at the ceiling with a squint and curses out Sage for his miserable existence, he “inhaled and exhaled” as he began the slow process of crossing over the terrain of blankets. 

Honestly, how can anyone stand this much pink? The room was covered in it; the walls were at least two different shades of pink, the floor had one parvenke heart-shaped rug, and then the walls had small streamers and decorations that resembled rose buds, tulips, and whatever other kind of flowers. He’s impressed if anything. 

He’s honestly in awe that the woman hasn’t gone blind from all the pink in the room, he felt his button eyes melt into his doll head the more he looked around the room- hence why he’s doing this. There was no way on this planet that Aphrodite was going to wear that breathtaking lavender and lilac dress with pink hair . It has to be amaranthine, or lavender, or periwinkle- something that isn’t pink for the love of God!

Cici’s sense of style and nit-picking of color names/shades is rubbing off on him.

The doll slowly tip-toes by the slumbering woman, passing her legs and reaching the end of the bed. He slowly climbed over the pillows and stretched from the pillow to the window bench. He was lucky in a way that the bed was long enough to take up a whole wall unlike Cici’s room where the fucking bed was in the middle of the room so climbing up and down was useless. And he didn’t want to turn into “Cici” because that will wake up the pinkette and he can’t speak as “Cici” so it would be so awkward. And then he might be outed. And that’s a mess he doesn’t need to deal with right now. 

The window sill was within reach and the doll saw the pink stylus sitting on the sill. It was long and had two rubber tips on each side of the pen, not quite like Cici’s but it’ll work. Jester carefully lifted the pen up and hoisted it over his shoulder like a staff resting on his shoulder, proud that he was able to fetch this thing without making any noise! But as the doll was about to head over to the phone when a shadow started to draw over the window. 

At first, Jester thought that it was a stray animal, scurrying past the window or looking for a way into the apartment. Supposedly, it’s almost a common thing. He recalls hearing Cici screeching about a raccoon in the bathroom and the very loud banging of pots and pan from Radley as he tried to scare off the creature. 

But the shadow was slow, far too big to be an animal, and when he turned around to see what was so massive to almost block out the moonlight- oh he was going to fucking pop his stitching!

The fucking faerie was back! For the fifthteenth time this week!?

Jester “sighed loudly”, tossing his head back and turning to the window sill to bang his plush head against the wood. This was definitely Sage’s doing now! That vigilante always dreamed of his sons having a lover similar to his pickings; loving and kind, cherishing them individually, and making sure their lives were full of happiness and devotion. It just has to run in the family for the lover to be a hero, huh!? He was going to use an Ouija Board to strangle Sage’s ghost then kill the faerie! If he didn’t kill him at some point soon, then surely, one of these roommates will. Or maybe Titus! That recluse of a hermit would just love to get his hands on the silver hero who broke his son- er… nephew- no… metaphorically adopted child? What exactly was Titus to the brothers? The doll shakes his head rapidly as he stares at the window, hoping it would break and let him run free to grab ahold of the hero. 

Again, why is he here !? For the fifteenth time!?

The doll watches the shadow of Fairen disappear to the other window; he knows that the hero is watching Cici clean up his room. Cici was probably about to sleep so the hero would be waiting at the window until he was sure that the blueberry designer was asleep. Then sneak into the room, sit on his bed, comb his hands through his hair, and stare at the other like he was looking at Sleeping Beauty but it was a guy with an aesthetic for blue things. 

Honestly, the silver hero was such a creep. Watching- no, “stalking” his ex who he broke up with because he wanted to pursue the role of a hero. It sounds so much like how Cici’s father’s “secret lover” turned out but with a much sadder ending. Jester wonders if that’s why Faerie was stalking Cici; he reads up on the history of Sage, then must’ve found out what happened and what was his relationship to the Heroes Command, felt bad, and wanted to rekindle the old flame for Cici’s safety.  

But if Jester was honest and begging for whatever deity out there to listen to him; Cici shouldn’t dare take the silver hero back. He should be dating Aphrodite. Or Sal. Hell- Radley or Sun would be better than the fae who broke his heart after five years of dating! If that silver spineless hero tries to swoon Cici, he’ll personally do something about it!

The doll slowly made his way back over to the phone and waddled up to the screen, the hot bar stayed blinking for the doll to return, he raised the stylus and typed out “purple hair dye ombre”. He “grunts” as the stylus swayed slightly, it was heavy- made of faux metal but it still had weight that made the doll struggle to balance the damn thing. 

He did glance over to the pink-curled woman to make sure she was still asleep and as he studied her longer, the more he was curious about her. He knows Cici from the inside out but… He doesn’t know the other roommates that well so… He wonders if he gets Cici to make dolls like him… could he possibly transfer himself to the other dolls? 

A theory that Sage would’ve loved to test out. 

Jester turns back to the phone and scrolls the rubber bit of the stylus to scroll through the images until he finds an ombre haircut that was similar to Aphrodite. Pale lilac on the top, then getting darker the longer the hair got. And Aphrodite has a shit ton of hair so there will be a lot of dying and bleaching. He could practically smell the bleach from the bathroom. The doll pressed the menu button to click the heartbeat ambience and once he pressed play, the sudden start of the heartbeat startled him, causing him to stumble back and fall onto the floor. His body didn’t make a sound but the stylus did and that caused the woman to stir. 

Jester stayed absolutely still, internally panicking, as he listened to the soft movements turn into mad shuffling of the woman as she most likely looked around for him. When her face appeared over the bed, he saw her face of worry mold into pity, “Oh Jester- I’m so sorry.” She whispered, leaning over and scooping him up. She hugged him to her chest and whispered, “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to kick you out of bed.” She began to settle back in but the shadow of the hero flashed over the window- causing the woman to freeze before she laid down. 

Jester already knew that it was the hero passing by but Aphrodite? She stopped all movements and stared out at the window. Jester “grunts” when her grip tightens around his waist. He moves with the musician as she slowly crawls out of bed, her heart pounding against his soft head, and when she reached the window- she looked at both sides, then sighed in relief. “You're dreaming,  Sugar. You’re dreaming.” She mumbles and returns to the bed. 

Jester can’t say anything but let the woman cuddle him to her chest and he has to admit, it’s nice to have someone to hug him. He doesn’t blame Cici for not letting him hang out more often but it’s nice… He likes Aphrodite. Hopefully, she’ll stick around when Cici gets tired of playing nice. 

Jester rested his body against the woman, letting his button eyes wander back to the window. He stares at the moonlight; the pure and untouched moon illuminates the room, highlighting the pink tones of the room to be softer, less present and sudden. He wonders if every room of the roommates is colored to be their favorite- i.e: the interpreter has a pale white room, Sal has a purple or lavender room, and the brute has a red or burgundy room. He wouldn’t put it past them to have their rooms color-coordinated. The doll shifts his plush body around as he carefully rests his head back against the bumps of the woman’s chest. He must be very careful because if he’s not, then he’ll be more flustered than Cici seeing Aphrodite in that gown. 

There was a sudden flicker. The pure light of the moon flickered across the room and it perked the attention of the doll. He lifted his head again to look out the window, confused- the silver faerie should’ve already left or is in Cici’s room. What was…

He sees the orb. The golden orb of a dragon he knows far too well. 

The golden orb flies past the window again, cutting the moonlight a few times- confusing the doll as he tries to rack his brain around why Ivis would even be sending the orbs around the apartment. He recalls the interpreter going to a job for them and having a half-date-and-half-interrogation lunch with the dragon but Ivis doesn’t like people. Especially dating. 

At least, not after what happened with Sage and them.

‘So why are you hovering around the apartment?’ Jester wondered. He glanced at the woman, hoping she was awake to see the orb, but he was relieved and disappointed to see Aphrodite asleep. 

Jester turns his head to the window and flinches when one of the golden orbs hovers in the window. He “snarls”- trying to manipulate the shadows of the room to cloak him and pinkette. But they simmer and stretch a little; nothing too fruitful. He doesn’t know what the pale dragon wants but he certainly will not go near anyone in this apartment. After all these years, after years of nightmares that Cici suffered from because of them , he will not let the Ivis to come near any of these roommates, especially Cici.

 He’s going to have to pull strings to warn Great Tree… Gods, he hates the guy but if Cici is in danger when the dragon comes after him or one of the roommates, and he can’t reach the blueberry in time to save him, then he’s going to just end himself. 

Jester watched the golden eye hover in the window for a little longer until it zoomed away. Most likely getting all the information it needed from looking into Aphrodite’s room. Jester leans back, “growling” to himself as he lets the doll’s body slump. He’s annoyed. Frustrated. Years and years of careful planning and scheming- all for nothing if Ivis decides to try and play “rekindling the old times.” Jester cannot and will not let the bastard interfere. 

He has a plan. He will have to be patient to get more observations from the eyes. To see if he can see what Ivis wants. And if he understands what the dragon wants, then he can plan accordingly to get Cici and his roommates out of here and to a place they can be safe. 

Jester needs to wait- all he needs to do is wait and then get Cici for himself. 

That’s all he needs to do. 

And after Cici is back on his side, he’ll make sure the roommates are safe. Jester giggles to himself as the room fades for him into the black abyss he’s grown so comfortable in for the past two decades. He can imagine the pain crossing over Sage’s eyes from the afterlife; seeing the one thing he tried to keep away from his sons failed. That’s something he won’t give up to imagine. 

Chapter Text

(Art made by WereRaven on Tumblr)

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The lights that blinded her face were suddenly cut. She backs up with stars dotting her eyes, her back hitting the harp as she blinks rapidly to push back the slight headache that surges forward. The flashes and dots dance as she blindly grasps the thin air, her hands swinging around until her left hits someone’s arm. “Oh-” She starts, feeling her heart settle for a moment but then feels more hands grab her shoulders while the pair she bumped into grabs her hand and yanks her harshly. She wants to ask them to be careful, she’s blinded by the lights and her heart was racing at the performance of a lifetime . She wasn’t aware of what was happening. But the tighter the grip got on her limbs, the more unsettled she felt as she was forcibly shoved forward. 

Something in her stomach says that this is wrong. 

This isn’t right.  

Aphrodite squints to see the darkness in front of her lighten up to a person she knows that she didn’t see before the show. They are gesturing to the people who are shoving her forward while keeping a tight trip on her limbs and she’s more than likely sure that they are going to bruise. Aphrodite turns her head to the spot she was sitting and sees someone racing across the stage with no one following them, giving a clearer picture that something wasn’t right. That’s when she realizes that her vision is clearing up and she can see that the people who have her are not a part of this show. 

Something was wrong. And whether she wanted to be a part of it or not, she is being cornered. 

The woman jolts her body to take the others off balance and stamps her left foot down on the person holding her shoulders while rearing her head back to slam the same person. Their grip loosened which made the person holding her wrists lose their grip; letting the purplette break free before someone else can grab her. She twists the opposite direction and starts to race towards the audience. Hoping that there was security at the bottom, letting her jump down safely and blend into the crowd. The thought of jumping into a crowd was scary but she knows that she’ll get covered and protected if she gets into the audience. 

Or maybe that Lunar Hero will show up right about now-

She felt something large wrap around her waist and before she could swing, something cupped her mouth and yanked her back, more hands grabbed her arms and started to drag her back. Her arms strain against the tight hold and her legs kick but the dress only tangles her legs, making the fabric her enemy too. The hand tightens over her mouth and she caught the small wind of a command from whoever is holding her arms, “Get the tape- get the tape-”

Oh hell to the fuck no.

As a lady, the woman of usual pink hair wouldn’t dare bite anyone. She hadn’t done that since she was child, and even then, she only bit Radley when he was being a little shite with rough-housing. All those ads and online shorts about how to self-defend yourself from being kidnapped ran blank, the only thing in her mind that seemed the most logical was to bite. So the woman tossed her head and wiggled until the group who had her had to stop for a moment to readjust their hold on her. Aphrodite needed that minute to roar her mouth open and bite down hard on the hand that had partially pulled away from her mouth. “Motherfucker-” a man hissed and before Aphrodite could lose her ability to scream for help, she huffed her chest and roared with a cymbal, “SOMEONE HELP! I’M BEING KIDNAPPED!”

She heard the crowd’s sudden confusion, the shouts of security and crackle of electricity start to vibrate the room as more people started to shout for answers and someone distantly called her name, so she cried out one last time before the darkness sealed her away, “CICI! SAL! RADLEY! SUN! HELP!”

Then she felt her voice constrict into pure silence. 

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10-hours before the Festival of Stars

“The bathroom still smells like bleach.” Radley unhelpfully comments when he enters the kitchen with a robe and a wrinkling nose. Sun looks up from her book on the sofa while Sal flips a pancake. “Well that’s what happens when we have a bathroom with no window and a woman with so much hair that she rivals Rapunzel.” Sun comments with a flip of a page. The historian grunts as he steps around the island to reach over the other’s head to fetch a mug. “Is the kettle still hot?” The brute asks the purple-loc man. Sal nods and steps to the side for the other to fetch the warm pot of green tea. “What book are you reading over there?” Radley asks as he pours, very obviously trying to fill the dead space of silence in the kitchen/living room. “ The Art of War again, I thought I would brush up on some topics.”

The charcoal-haired man hums with a grunt as he takes a long sip of the tea, then bastardly reaches for his spice packet to pour some spice into his tea. Sal sees this and makes a horrified noise, “Oh quiet. It’s nice.” Sal shakes his head wildly and turns back to his pancakes. The other two roommates were in Cici’s room; getting ready for the Festival. The living room falls back into the silence while the faint sound of giggles echo in the hall. “Do I want to know why they are giggling?” Radley asks but Sun replies for herself and Sal, “No. You don’t.”

In said room, Cici was laughing as Aphrodite tries and fails to pull a single thread into the eye of a needle. “How are you this bad?” He asks while holding his gut like it was about to split open. “I-I can’t do it if you keep laughing jerk!” She tries to amend herself but can’t while laughing at the same time. The two of them had fallen asleep the night prior after making some last minute touches to the dress and finishing up Aphrodite’s new hair. 

The pinkette finally agreed to have her hair changed from its original pink to purple. “It’s so strange,” She announced the morning after the initial dress was made. “I opened my phone and found search results for purple hair dye. And I vividly remember not typing that into my phone, so who did it?” None of the others chimed in, suggesting that maybe the woman developed a sleep-walking state that was typing or using her phone instead of sleep-walking. “Lemme see-” Cici demanded after the woman started to “interrogate” Sal who looked “embarrassed and guilty” in the woman’s opinion. 

While the woman of pink started to chase the poor spa therapist, Cici looked through the search results and slowly leaned back into his chair to call out to the woman, “What if we did dye your hair purple?” Aphrodite stopped chasing Sal, dead-stopping in the entryway of the kitchen and narrowed her eyes, “Why would I do that?” The designer shrugged as he corrected the chair, “I mean not one color purple. Dye it like how your hair does naturally, color it in different shades of purple and we can do a dye that only lasts for a week or month. Whatever you want.” 

Aphrodite looks at the blue man like she wanted to kill him but her face subtly shifts to one of curiosity, “Show me examples.” For three hours, Cici and Aphrodite shopped and hunted down any semi-permanent hair-dye of any every shade of purple while also asking any poor hair stylist retail worker a million questions about how to properly and carefully dye the pink woman’s massive amount of hair. “How long is your hair?” The worker asks as she gently touches the hair to feel the thickness, “Maybe like… 3 feet?” Aphrodite guesses and the look on the woman’s face is all awe. “How long do you think it’ll take to dye the whole head of hair?” Cici asks as he looks between two bottles of hair dye, trying to distinguish the two shades. 

“I… I would say based on how much hair… Maybe a day if you go from bottom to top with bleach then dye it the next day so the hair can cling onto the color.” The duo profusely thanked the worker and bought a worrying amount of bleach and started their long process of bleaching. The other three roommates were not in the apartment when the duo returned, only to be hit with the strong smell of bleach that made the three light-headed when they returned. “What in the fuck are you doing to the bathroom!?” Radley shouted as he kicked the door in, then screeched when he saw Aphrodite’s hair fully white the tinges of clementine orange streaking in-between the white strands, rather than her trademark ombre pink. 

“You’re actually dying your hair?” Sun asked as she leaned against the doorframe, her usual closed eyes opened and narrowed at Cici who was reading the instructions on one of the bottles of bleach with his tongue stuck out in concentration. “Well, you saw the dress. It’s purple and I have pink hair sooooo- purple hair time!” The woman cheered with a toss of her hands in the air. Radley just looked offended. “After all this time- this is when you want to dye your hair?” He says while pointing at the bottles of hair dye. 

“Yep!” The woman responds and turns to Cici, “My scalp is burning. Is that a good thing?” The rest of the apartment had to force the windows open to air out the smell of bleach, even after Sal and Sun set up over 16 different candles and incense- the smell of bleach still persisted in the air of the bathroom. 

That night, Aphrodite and Cici couldn’t sleep from all of the excitement of bleaching Aphrodite's hair for the first time, so they decided to dye their hair outside and then have a late-night dance party in the high of bleach and hair dye. It was chaotic but the two of them were having fun. 

Around three to four am, the hair was washed and dried which revealed a perfect ombre of lavender and plum falling into darker tones of tacao, it all blends seamlessly into the other shades, and despite Aphrodite’s hair being a warmer color than violet; the hair took the new color perfectly. That morning, the two decided to clock in for the night with Aphrodite holding Jester in a vice grip. The doll was still “a hostage” until Cici made a version of the doll for the pinkette or made her into a doll for Jester to hang out with. The duo were fast asleep and the doll was perfectly sandwiched between Cici and Aphrodite as they crashed out from their long exposure to bleach and dye that smelled like cotton candy. 

Their slumber was gentle and calm. The moon blessed the room in a soft light and the doll couldn’t complain. He was stuck and while he didn’t like being sandwiched, it was worth it to see Fairen enter the room, look around, stare at the woman, and to watch his face morph from anger to hurt- it made the night that much more enjoyable. But the other two didn’t know this. 

The blueberry designer looked over to his phone and scrolled through the messages he received, “My ticket for my chair is here.” He announced. The woman perked up and clapped happily, “Where are you sitting?” The designer titled the phone to show what seat he was placed in and the woman blinked then hummed, “I think you're off to my left? I think. We’ll see!” The blue man nods and sets his phone off to the side. 

“You excited for tonight?” The woman bobs her head left and right. If she was pouring her heart out, then she would tell the other how her gut was twisting and her stomach is warning her to not even think about trying to eat because it would just make her sick. Her fingers were shaking while anxiety was crawling up her throat, almost suffocating her, but at the same time, she couldn’t help but feel ready. 

“I think… I’m okay.” She settled. Cici leveled his eyes with her then offered his hands, palms up for her to settle her own into his. Following the motion, the designer clasped his hands over her’s and said, “You are doing this for yourself. No one else. Just you. Forget what the festival is meant for. Forget who it is being made for. Just remember,” He inhaled with his chest puffing up- making the woman mimic his movements, “It’s okay to be afraid. It’s human for everyone to be nervous.” Once they exhaled, the purple-dyed harpist nodded her head and then reached her arms out to pull the blueberry into her arms. 

“Thank you, Cici. For everything from now and onwards.” She said while rubbing her chin on the male’s shoulder. Cici’s face brightened a smidge into a color of pink as he chuckled, “Of course, Sugarcane. Anything for you.” The two stayed on the bed, hugging and smiling silly as the world spun. It felt … right to relax and hug like this. 

It would’ve gone longer if Radley didn’t shout from the kitchen, “YOUR PANCAKES ARE GOING TO BE MINE IF YOU TWO DON’T HURRY!” The two separated and raced to the kitchen to stop the historian from eating their beloved breakfast. 

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Eight Hours before the Festival of Stars

“Remind me again why I’m doing this?” Luna asked as she groaned in Sasha’s lap. “Because the city loves you and they want to give you a festival.” The ocean-oriented hero commented while her cheeks blushed a soft pink. “You should be thankful! Some of us don’t get a festival! Or a holiday!” Ruben shouts from his hamster ball. The fool decided to piss off Pono and got “locked up” in a hamster ball that was usually used for training but now was Ruben’s personal prison.

“I am thankful but do I have to show up in my costume and everything? It’s like such a waste of energy…” She mumbled while tossing an arm over her face. Sasha sighed and looked over at Fairen who was sitting on the sofa chair, looking off to the side with his eyes glazed over, obviously in a different place than in the break room of the Heroes Command. 

She wondered what was going through his mind. The fae usually chimes in on the conversation at hand until someone either stops the conversation or breaks up an argument. Or someone is called on a mission. “You won’t need to go into your costume,” All eyes turned to Archer who entered the room with a file as thick as his forearm, no one even noticed that he entered the room, he looked irked with his eyebrow perked up as he surveyed the room. “Oh? I thought that-” The green hero raised one hand and waved the thick file with his nose scrunching up with distaste, “The only reason why is because there’s a Destructive at the festival and the “higher ups” don’t want to risk you getting caught.”

Luna rolled her eyes as she said, “There’s bound to be Destructives at the festival anyway, what’s wrong with one more?” Sasha reached over to take the file that Archer was shaking, and opening it made her grunt as she unhappily shifted the documents off to the side for Luna to read alongside her. “The “worry” the higher ups have is the fact that she can scream so loud she could hypothetically deafen the world.” Sasha looked over the test results from nearly 20 years back. 

“Aphrodite Paradise” was taken to the testing center to test her power for a private school admission. She was labeled “dangerous” by her screeching vocal chords being genetically stronger and letting her have a longer range of pitches and giving her the ability to make the world hear nothing with a blink of an eye. Luna tilts her head as she looks at the documents, shifting through the paper-clipped papers with no real urgency to get to know someone she never met before but she did pause when the flyer from a studio came into the picture. The woman was pretty; an ombre of pink hair flowing around her while she wore a long pink sundress as she sat on a stool and played her harp. She looked pretty on the poster but when her eyes trailed to the next photo, she paused. 

“So this woman is playing at the festival that the organizers hired and I have to be in civilian form because the key-player that the studio hired is a Destructive with her aid being an instrument she is playing which means that she can’t hurt anyone as long as she’s near it. Tell me why is this an issue?” Archer sighs as he approaches the sofa chair off to the side and sits down, slumping into the cushions (something he doesn’t do willingly if he can help it). “I am merely a messenger.” He answered. Sasha and Luna made eye-contact and Luna continued to look through the file, letting the room fall into a perfect silence (minus Ruben who struggles as he was unable to escape his hamster ball confines). 

Archer closed his eyes, settling the base of his palms into his eyes as he inhaled slowly. This festival really couldn’t have come at a worst time. With the threat of the Enchantress and the recent months where Ivory Dragon has been baiting heroes on call to them while their minions tried to break into secure spaces for information that none of the experts knew why the dragon was trying to access records sealed. Everyone has been running around to try and figure out what was going to happen if the dragon of stone was able to access the records that have been sealed since Great Tree’s retirement. 

Speaking of his mentor…

Normally, the retired hero would be in the room; reassuring everyone and trying to provide support for them to feel more at ease but recently… The retired hero has been more focused on personal issues; constantly calling hospitals, asking for records under “Knowledge”, and asking for current information for someone that Archer doesn’t know. The green hero wondered if the retired mentor was trying to get in contact with another retired hero in hopes that they would come in and help out with the situation but whenever he sees the mentor on the phone, he looks more stressed than ever. 

Archer knows better than to bother his mentor but as the festival draws closer, the hero worries about the security of their fellow hero and moreover, if the mentor is distracted- who knows what’ll happen to the retired hero if the mayor and the government gets involved. Millie has been great in trying to keep the government and politics out of the Heroes Command but there are politics that the heroes can’t avoid unfortunately. 

This festival was a push for more publicity for the Moon Hero, more money for the organization and thus, more money for the government to fund for the next election where the mayor wants to press more charges on taxes from other states and other countries while also trying to fund more “appropriate” lifestyles for the wealthy class. Archer doesn’t understand how someone can so easily make everything a living hell for one class of people who are already struggling to get by. With the current mayor, the city is full of unrest and hate. 

It’s going to come to a boiling point and someone is bound to snap. Whether it’s good or bad, Archer is unsure. But he’s certain he’s not going to vote for the mayor’s next term. He’s voting for the opponent. 

“She’s really pretty.” Luna comments, breaking the thought process of Archer. The moon hero is still looking at the photo of Ms. Paradise, but her face is morphed in a way that tells the green hero that she’s thinking of something else. “What’s with the look of disgust?” Ruben asks from his hamster ball. He had somehow rolled it over to the sofa and was looking over Sasha’s shoulder to look at the moon hero. “She looks familiar to me… But I don’t know where.” Luna says gently as she narrows her eyes, a trait that she did when she was trying hard to recognize someone that she knows she’s met before but couldn’t remember where she’s met the person. 

“Maybe she was at a press conference or something,” Ruben (un)helpfully supplied. Luna only scrunched her nose and then closed the file. “I still don’t understand why I have to go in civilian form. I would think that the “higher ups” would want me to be in costume so that I can show “authority” over the festival.” Archer hums as he assumes, “I think they want a lot of things but they want you to be prioritized overall.” 

Archer looks over to Fairen who hasn’t commented on this conversation at all. Which isn’t unusual but this silence is much more… As if the silver fae was holding something back from the conversation. The door opened again and Pono entered with trays full of fruit and snacks, “I have acquired the snacks for us to eat while we watch the shitshow of the festival.” They announce with their “s” drawn out with a prideful expression pressed on their face. Luna groans from the sofa and turns her head to bury it into the lap of Sasha (whose face turns slightly redder as the moon hero hides her face). 

“It can’t be that bad. I’ll be down there for the whole thing until Ruben comes down to pick Luna up and I go home to sleep.” The silver hero finally pulls his eyes away from the window and towards the man trapped in the hamster ball and the rest of the group. “Wow, look who finally talks! You were so quiet I thought you became a fly!” Ruben jests, resulting in Sasha turning around from her position and shoving the plastic bubble away from her as the dragon hero huffs a ring of smoke from their nostrils to warn the flame hero. 

“I’m just pointing out the plan. The festival is annoying, yes, and will it hinder a lot of people from committing crime, maybe, but on the positive side, the city is recognizing Luna for her hard work. We should appreciate that.” Sasha nods her head in agreement while Pono shouts from the kitchen, “But must they do it at the garden plaza and inside the atrium? It’s so cramped there.” The dragon complains as they hiss with strokes of greenish-pink flames poking out with their forked tongue as they shove the fruit into the fridge. 

The rest of the group looks up to the clock above the high-rise window, watching the time tick by as they wait for a festival that was never needed but appreciated. 

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Six Hours before the Festival of Stars

The atrium is covered in star-shaped lights that overhang from the stage lights, the tech and backstage workers hussle around as they prop up everything for the performers, and the seats are being vacuumed and steamed for all guests to enter and sit for a performance by musicians and artists who love and appreciate the moon hero just as much as the public. 

Aphrodite doesn’t like the moon hero yet she can’t help but be in awe of the stage that rounded around in a half-circle with seats sitting from left to right  sides of the stage with big red curtains draped up but they were replaced by dark blue moon curtains with small star decorations hanging from the poles and wires above. Aphrodite spins on the center of the stage, staring in awe of the size of the room. The Plaza Atrium was built with the city back when technology was expanding and the Civil Rights Movement was still the height of the news, the city took to building such a massive theatre for one the “right” people, but after the Civil Rights Movement and the welcomed equality among all races- only then did the theatre open for all artists and musicians. 

The purplette spins a few more times, taking in the glory of the atrium, and when she turned to the chairs where the audience would be crowding from all corners of the festival to see who was performing pieces for the moon hero. And while she hated the woman with a passion, her child-self couldn’t help but feel enamored with the idea of performing for an audience that could bring her studio attention and perhaps, she’ll be able to perform more pieces for herself. 

Her original piece was something of a memento to her future; her “Garden of Sweets Delights”. 

It was meant to orchestrate mostly her harp, then play into her lyre that would lure the listener into the soft melody of sloth and happiness, her music would remind the world of sugar and sweets, her paradise of beautiful flowers surrounded by trees stretching so far to the sky- it was as if the trees were her cover under their heavy branches and leaves. The pine would shed their needles for her to pick and the pinecones are crushed for food- the paradise she made by her hands alone would be tended by her hands alone. She would not let anything touch her garden; no powers shall reach her space of happiness, everyone who enters will live in joy and sloth, and no one would demand something of her. 

Her happiness came first in the garden. 

“Sugarcane! Over here!” The harpist turned her head to the backstage where Cici was holding her dress in its protective covering. The designer insisted that they have a cover for the dress so there would be no foul play on her outfit if she had a run-in with another “anti-Destructive” asshole. A smart move since the two of them are becoming more paranoid as the time gets closer for her performance. The musician skipped over to the designer who gestured to the male next to him, “This is a violinist who is so kind as to let us borrow his room for us to stash your dress inside.” The violinist smiled with soft blush dusting his cheeks, “Oh please, it’s not a problem! If anyone asks, I am sure to help out!”

Aphrodite smiled, her heart lifting a little more as she faced her fellow string musician, “Thank you for this. I feel as if they should’ve already had all the rooms prepared for us.” The violinist shrugged, his ungloved hands rising with his shrugged shoulders, “They’ll do this sometimes when there’s a bigger turnout than they expected. But I am inclined to agree, they should have been better prepared.”

About two hours earlier, there was a “fiasco” as Cici would have put it. The five roommates decided that they would meet up with the designer and musician at the festival when it opened, letting the mentioned two head over to get their badges, directions, and stations for where they were supposed to go for the show. Aphrodite was pleasantly surprised when she found herself entering the Plaza Atrium, a space that only the best of the best performed for heroes or the wealthy class. The duo headed backstage, passing crew and tech as they worked hurriedly to get the show ready. 

Even if the performance was in six hours. 

As they reached the back, the woman saw a few familiar faces of fellow musicians; mostly singers and DJs, but she was pleasantly pleased to find a few string instruments in the backroom, including her harp. 

Getting the harp to her studio was a nightmare. She had to require the assistance of Radley and Sal to help her navigate the harp out of her room and down the steps of the apartment complex to reach Cici’s 2016 blue Kia Soul . And it wasn’t until Sun left the apartment and shouted from the staircase that Aphrodite could shrink her harp into a hand-held lyre. Something Aphrodite does forget when she’s in the heat of a moment or simply thinking of anything else but her aid. It’s not unheard of for aids to shift sizes (like Sun’s lotus flower incense fuser) or to be an ordinary item that could become a weapon (in Sal’s case; he could use a butter knife to cut someone’s arm off with so much ease), and sometimes the aid can shift into something entirely different by the size. 

When the pinkette first got her harp aid, she was forced to play and pluck the strings while also maintaining the awful buzzing feeling she got whenever she played the instrument. Aids for Destructives don’t usually make their respective half sick but there are cases where the aids made were either tampered with or created too strongly for the Destructive to use and thus, could lead them to the hospital or worse, death. When Aphrodite got her first aid, it was strong and every pluck of a string made her gut twist and head sway, her mouth would run dry and she would have to stop playing for her senses to come back. 

Over the course of her musical career, she learned to harness and push down the nausea that plagued her gut when she played. Until her years of university allowed her to change her aid from a harp to a shape-shifting lyre. She always preferred the lyre; it’s easy to hold, easy to play, and while there are significantly less strings to play, she knows how to play different tones and pitches with her fingers. She knows the lyre better, she can play it in her sleep. Yet she refuses to part with the harp. 

In a way, if she parts with the harp then she parts with the role her life was supposed to fill in. 

When the duo tried to find the pinkette’s room, they were stunned to find all the rooms were full and taken. Glaringly obvious that there were enough rooms for everyone but Aphrodite. The designer pouted and waved over a worker who was checking the other musicians into rooms or spaces. As Cici, you come to expect a lot out of the blueberry man. He is forward and he knows how to demand a presence with people, he is stubborn and while he can make any of the roommates laugh- his best trait in Aphrodite’s opinion is making things happen when there is a 1 out of 1,000 chance of it happening. 

In this case, the designer waved down the worker and started up a conversation. The posture of the designer was straight but lax as if he was chatting with an associate, then as the conversation continued, his chin would rise while his eyes squinted as the worker looked through the clipboard they carried and made some sound which immediately shifted Cici’s expression to one of glee. The blueberry skipped over to Aphrodite and announced, “The other rooms are currently being used as storage rooms so we just have to ask around to see if anyone is willing to share a room with the wisteria-haired woman for the night.” 

Aphrodite was shooed away as the blueberry bounced from one person of conversation to another, creating a web of connections and fresh compliments to appeal to anyone who has any space. And he found a violinist who was so kind to offer his open space in his room for the woman to “set up shop” and get her things all organized. “Are you performing a solo or duet?” Aphrodite asked the green-haired violinist. 

The man was about as tall as Sal, maybe a few inches shorter. His hair was seemingly a mint green with pale highlights, his olive eyes were round and warm like Christmas mints being passed out to families, and he wore a simple white blouse with black dress pants to cover his body until showtime. “A solo. What instrument do you play?” The violinist asked, his voice is smooth and crisp- like a mint! 

“Harp, although I prefer the lyre. Much more unique to play.” The man hums and nods, jabbing his thumb behind him where the entrance to the backstage rooms are, “My girlfriend, Coco, always wanted to play the harp. She wants to play with me one day but I think she’s amazing at making hot cocoa more than an instrument.” Aphrodite and Cici peered over and saw a little lady with long poofy dark hair, handing out mugs of what must be hot cocoa. “She’s making hot chocolate… in the middle of the summer?” Cici asked, his tone curious rather than demeaning. 

The musician chuckled, “Yep! Her hot cocoa is the best in the world. Whenever I need to feel calm, she always comes up to give me a mug and soothes my nerves.” The harpist hums and looks back to the stage behind her. She imagines the violinist playing the stage, his body swaying to the music of his bow taunting the strings of the bass while gliding around the polished wood to convey the image that would sway the audience to fall into a deep slumber of the waking world. Cici hums as he turns back to the musician, “Well I think if she offers, I’ll take a mug of that hot cocoa! But for now, me and Pinkie have to fix up a few things with her dress so we’ll have to chat sometime later.” The violinist nods and shakes Cici’s hands and Aphrodite. 

“My name is Maxim. It’s great to meet you both.” He waves goodbye and heads out towards the girl who trots up to him with a mug of hot cocoa and he wraps his arms around her, nuzzling her face before kissing her crown, then the both walk away. Cici turns to the lavender woman and shakes her dress, “Let’s get you fitted and check for any last details then go meet up with the others!” The duo headed around the bend to the rooms, slipping into Maxim’s room and Aphrodite quickly got into the dress, spinning and puffing the many layers of the dress out to show off the embroidery and the small glass beads lining her outfit. 

Cici took out his sewing kit and started to thread a few out of place seam-lines on the dress to the seam-allowance. After a few minutes of minor alterations, the woman slipped out the dress and hung it back up on the hanger and wore her small outfit again as she exited the room. “Ready?” Cici asked. The two moved toward the exit and as the duo left, the woman turned her head back to the stage and wondered when she performed on a stage, did everyone expect her to play a song of the moon while wearing the colors of the night? Or were they expecting her to bring the dawn of the sun?

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Three Hours before the Festival of Stars

“And remember; this is our one chance to bring more awareness to our cause. Do not try to play the hero if the plan goes sour.” Damona watches from the balcony as Patience orders the spies being sent out to the festival preparations. Byron watches from behind the red-dressed woman with his common wide smile that would either reassure or make anyone uneasy. The blonde was the definition of a “dumb blonde” as her son claimed, Byron was always bright and always encouraged the morale of the other recruits, even if something went wrong- he always smiled and made the other feel better about the situation. 

Byron may look “dumb” but he makes it up in his genius in his science and his selection of workers who are efficient and are always willing to help the cause no matter who is giving the command. Damona hums as she watches the spies enter the two main civilian vehicles and as they drive away, the woman turns to face the horizon where the sky starts to turn into the gentle tones of blue and black- letting the stars come to shine and kiss the sky like diamonds. The black-and-red horned woman felt her heart thump with the spin of the earth, feeling as if this mission will go accordingly and after this, she hopes that she will be one step closer to her goal. 

She heard the footfalls of her general approaching and the woman sighed, her ruby eyes closing as she spoke, “Red… I already told you that I want Charles to be on the security task to take in the target.” Her son, bless him, pouted as he took to her side. Red was a boy who was not a Destructive but an infant abandoned by parents who were too young to have kids and didn’t want to take him to a place where he can get the help he needs. Born without an arm and with one eye completed pitch black with one his blue iris being the only vivid color in the pitch black against the other eye which was completely normal- the world was against him when he was born. 

She found Red sobbing and hungry in a dump where she was passing by with Patience, her heart sang its sorrows for the infant and she soon raised the boy like her own. Back then, she wanted to simply bring awareness to the cruelty the city was bringing on the younger generations but when she turned to “villainy”, then so did her family. Red was given a prosthetic by Byron, a massive arm that could easily break a bird’s wings with one swipe or clench of his fist. Sporting the stripes of red and white (like a candy cane), the general became fearsome and well-respected by the recruits. Even the newer ones start out afraid of him, but he warms up to them and soon, they seem him like a brother. 

Damona was so proud of her son for taking up the role of protector with the other ranks. But at this moment, his pout made her smile in a motherly way, knowing full well that he was going to try and persuade her to let him be a part of the mission. “Red…” She sighs as she looks at him as he opens his mouth, “Please Mother, let me help! I can make sure everything goes accordingly! You know that Charles will freeze up if the woman gets out of hand.” 

The general wasn’t wrong, Charles or “Choco Were-Brute” wanted to prove themself in a mission. Their recent success has been greatly appreciated and Damona has given praises for the were-hound for all their hard work, so to see how much their power has grown, Damona has offered the position of “security” for this mission. Which the brute was more than happy to take but it seems that her son also wants a part of the recruitment. “And I want to make sure no hero tries anything! You know that if the Moon Hero is in the crowd, then she’s going to call backup. And we want this Destructive with us! For our cause!”

His eyes were wide, his pouting more prominent, like he was a puppy. Damona only blinks as she runs through the scenarios in her mind; her son could help with managing a safe exit for the target and the group, her son can deal good amount of damage to any hero if he has a close enough range, but the consequence is the potential that the Destructive calls out for help and she shatters the group’s eardrums and that gets them caught. But the only reason he wasn’t a part of this mission was because of the last incident that almost cost her half of her team. She doesn’t blame her son for what happened, but she doesn’t want to risk it. 

Damona weighs her decision heavily, she doesn’t want to risk anyone getting caught but she had to take into consideration if the hero would even be at the event or not. Heroes who get festivals or even holidays will often make appearances at the events made for them but sometimes, they won’t show up for “safety reasons” and Damona has heard about the disappointment the public would feel when their hero doesn’t show up for an event or holiday party. It would sway the public to dislike the hero but then at the same time, there are the higher ups and vocal people who are firm supporters of the heroes who argue that the safety of the hero is absolutely needed if they arrive at an event as big as a city-wide festival. 

There is a 50/50 chance that Lady Moon will be at the festival and if there is a chance that she will be there, then her triangle will need all the more protection and faster getaway than she initially thought of. The Enchantress looked at her son one more time and placed her hands on her hips as she commanded gently, “If I allow you to join this mission, I want you to only be lookout and additional security with Charles. Don’t go picking a fight unless it is absolutely necessary.” Red nods his head and steps on his toes as he looks at her with such love, it makes her give in to hug her son. To feel his large arm wrap around her and to feel him bouncing in place as he wanted nothing more than to run to Choco Were-Brute to inform them of the change in plans. 

Damona pulls away and watches her son run to the training field. She feels herself settling happily as she reflects on the next step of the plan if Plan A is successfully executed. If they get a hold of Ms. Paradise and she joins their cause, then there would be a wider access for other Destructives to join her cause then from there, if she continues to build and connect with more people, then there was a better chance of overthrowing what the Heroes Command has built in the city, and then she can take on the world with the city behind her. 

There was a plan for a plan, and she was ready for it. 

There was a gentle tug on her dress and when she looked down, the Enchantress disappeared and then it was Mama Damona time. Arwyn and Prynce were by her legs and tugging her dress, the leader leaned down and patted their heads as she asked, “Yes, my little apprentices?” Arwyn blinked her ruby eyes and whispered in her haunted and wispy voice, “Hungry… We are… hungry…” Prynce nodded sleepily and Damona resisted the urge to coo at them. “Let’s go get some food, my dears.” And the two children waddled after her, hand in hand while the leader watched them with loving eyes and a promise to make their future as bright as the sun. 

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One Hour before the Festival of Stars

“Radley- I swear to the Buddah if you don’t fucking pick a cupcake, I am punting you through the window.” Cici threatened over the phone as the historian hovered scarily over the glass displaying different cupcakes themed after different planets and the poor clerk, Claude, looked more afraid that the brute was going to break the display case if he leaned on the case anymore. “Radley, please, just pick out a cupcake for Aphrodite. We have an hour and you know how long the lines get at the entrance.” Sun warned, her wallet in hand and Lee was giggling into his hand. Sal sighed softly as he held the two cupcakes he wisely ordered ahead of time when the others were busy searching for Radley’s ticket because he misplaced it (left it under his spice packet near the stove) and when they got it, Cici asked if they could pick up some cupcakes for Aphrodite. 

And so, Pearls and Swirls was the best bakery to go to. Luckily, they were still open and they even offered to give the roommates an additional cupcake for their pinkette but the issue was that Radley needed to pick cupcakes for Aphrodite and he couldn’t decide. Cici was called and he gave his opinion but the historian wasn’t listening- which led to the current predicament where Cici was half-tempted to drive to the shop and put the brute through a window. Lee was leaning against the counter as Claude looked more worried about the display case shattering over the remaining cupcakes. 

“Radley-” Cici warned and the brute grunts, “Busy Cici.” Sun sharply sighs and asks Claude to fetch two Venus cupcakes. Claude scrambled to pick up the two-holder carton to place the cupcakes in and he quickly packaged them up and set them off to the counter for Lee to ring up and Sun to pay. The charcoal man grunts with question, Sal waves at him to sign what was the reason but the man signs with one hand and all is lost on Radley. “Venus is another name for Aphrodite. When the Romans conquered Greece, they changed all the names from Greek to Roman so Aphrodite is Venus, Aries is Mars, etc…” A voice explained. Phoenix entered the room with his hand on his cane as he exited the back. “Oh…” Radley chimed. 

Lee hands the cupcakes to Sun and leans on the counter, “So how excited are you all for Aphrodite? It’s a dream come true from what I’m getting from Cici’s call.” Sal nods happily and signs again and luckily, Sun interprets quickly, “We are all very excited. Although we are disappointed that we aren’t all sitting together.” Phoenix tilts his head, his golden orange hair follows his head movement as he asks, “You aren’t altogether?” He specifies. Lee clicks his tongue, “Odd, I thought you guys would have gotten all your seats together.”

Sun speaks for the group as she gestures to the outside where people are trickling into the plaza to see the event. “Aphrodite got a plus one ticket for front row seats and we thought we could get the same row but they were filled out already so we had to deal with a few rows back but we all still get to see Aphrodite perform. We are very excited.” Sun says that she looked excited but her neutral face says otherwise, Lee points it out, “Oh yes, you look so excited.” He chuckles. A light tease but it means nothing to Sun who only rolls her eyes at the tease. 

The five roommates have been coming to Pearls and Swirls since they moved in. Cici has always wanted to go but he never had an excuse until his roommates said they wanted to go to a bakery with good treats and this bakery was the most recommended. Originally opened by a family business: Phoenix’s mother opened the shop with her three sisters to raise her two sons and her youngest, Phoenix, became the head baker of the place and his boyfriend, Lee was welcomed to the work alongside Claude (who very obviously has a crush on Lee and Phoenix) and the trio have been good acquaintances with the roommates since they arrived to “raid” the bakery of all their cupcakes. 

Claude is relentlessly teased by Cici and Aphrodite for his crush on Phoenix and Lee while Sal happily signs to Lee who is the only one besides his boyfriend who knows how to sign. Claude is still learning but Sun is more than happy to teach him the basic signs. The group became a regular whenever they dropped by the shop, they always paid with good tips and had fun with the staff. Even the three sisters (Phoenix’s aunts) loved to chat with the roommates. (For some reason, they like to tease Sal and Radley about getting into relationships because “they are so strong and sweet! They deserve to have good partners!” They even recommended that Radley and Aphrodite date but that was shut down due to the fact that the duo considered themselves more like brother and sister). 

“Well, you tell Aphrodite good luck and break a leg on stage! You have to record it so we can see it later.” Lee comments as he glances at the clock. Claude nods, “You better get going. The crowd’s coming in.” The blonde wasn’t wrong and the trio exited quickly while shouting their thanks. The purple-dreadlocked male blew a few of his curls out of his face as he went over to flip the sign from “Open” to “Close”. Claude sighs tiredly and bonelessly drapes over the counter. “Finally… Relaxing time…” He muttered. Phoenix laughs as he sits in one of the chairs of the table, “Well now we have all the time in the world to relax and forget that we live in a society that will pay an ungodly amount for cupcakes made after a hero!” Lee comments. 

The blind lover slowly looks over to Lee’s direction and goes, “Don’t tell me you charged Sun full price.” Lee snorts and Claude says, “Lee respects Sun too much. They work off of each other’s vibes.” The two boyfriends make a noise of agreement. Claude looks out and scoffs as he watches everyone run by as the night sky starts to peel out and shower the world in its diamonds and crystals dotting her sky. The blonde felt his phone buzz and when he peaked, he saw a message from his father and he was quick to push his phone away, in favor of turning to the lovers and laughing as Lee tried to horribly jump across the counter only to fail and fall face first into the floor. 

Meanwhile, the trio were outside with their tickets and cupcakes in hand, they were lucky to arrive in time for the lines to only have roughly 30 people in each line of five. VIPs were taken somewhere differently and people crowded around to see if they could cut in line or to find friends and family to partner with. Sal was kind enough to offer to hold the cupcakes and to keep them in place above everyone’s heads so that the risk of the cupcakes getting squished was less of a risk. Sun held Sal’s ticket while Radley used his bulk to keep space between the people behind him from pushing forward to accidentally crushing the smaller woman who was simply resting her eyes as the line moved one foot at a time. 

Radley blinked as their turn was getting closer, his eyes surveying the inner crowds as they filtered into the plaza. He tried to see if he could find the head of a blueberry or pink-turned-purple haired woman but his disappointment continued on as he failed to see the blueberry that annoyed and bombarded him with so many texts of asking if he would fetch a cupcake for the harpist before they came to the festival. Sal curveys the area, making sure to keep an eye on the security detail and making sure that if he sees something sharp, to scoot away so he’s not “tempted”. He honestly could threaten this whole operation; just cut the line in half (literally) but he also knows how difficult it was to get blood out of clothes. It’s such a bother. 

He’s overstimulated. 

The knight scoped out the area, looking over the heads of the people to see someone he could recognize, maybe a co-worker or an acquaintance. He would chat with Sun but his hands are literally full. “We’re next.” Sun states as she offers the three tickets for the worker to scan and their belongings (which consisted only of a small backpack with their wallets, IDs, and small snacks to eat while at the festival (you bet everything is overpriced to the max) and when they entered, the three physically wilted. 

It was busy, crowded, and everything was full of people shouting and louding cheering for merchandise or flashing photos. All of their worst nightmares.

“Next time, all of us are going to go with Aphrodite to an event if she is performing again.” The three agree and start their long trek into the plaza in hopes of finding Cici or Aphrodite running around. The plaza was fairly big; full of stands for rigged games, lots of food vendors, and even a carousel for kids to ride with the animals replaced with star signs or constellations. Sal would admit that he never attended a fair or festival for a hero, back home, there was never enough money for his family to go anywhere. So he often got to watch festivals and events of heroes from a computer that was too old to be his but too young for his older brothers to use because they wanted newer phones and newer computers. 

This is his first event ever to attend, and already, he was overwhelmed. His mind unhelpfully offered ideas to make this place into a world of silence but that would require that he needed to kill a lot of people for it all to be quiet. And he knows that Aphrodite wouldn’t appreciate her solo being ruined. “Gods, where the hell is he?” Radley snarled as the pale interpreter sighed sharply after failing to find the blue-haired male. “He’s looking for us as well. Call him. Sal, give me the cupcakes.” The mute man handed the treats over and looked back around. 

He saw vendors offering star-shaped plushies, games based on star signs or trivia games being set up. He sees one vendor who is selling “star ice cream” which looks like ice cream dyed the colors of the night sky with white sprinkles and small stars being the decorations. He sees people starting to filter into the atrium where the museum and the concert would begin. He even sees a photo stand being set up where he thinks Lady Moon will be to take photos of her younger fans. He wonders if the hero would even show up. 

Then he looks to the otherside where the garden was set up. The garden of the plaza was meant to be covered in flowers that the hero loved, or, at least flowers that are associated with her and his likeness. It’s supposed to be beautiful. He remembers watching an old clip of Great Tree entering the garden and sitting by an old willow on the final day of his retirement. The first hero of the city that actually catered to the people, not the money- the people. He was Destructives as equals. He wanted there to be equality. But after his retirement… things only got worse. 

Great Tree is argued to be one of the heroes that could be a Destructive but his personality and his commitments are argued that he is pardoned from being labeled such a “horrible thing”. And even when the hero accepted the title among the community of Destructives, he accepted that title even when the world refused to accept it. Sal always thought that Great Tree would be at rallies or protests- maybe he was and in civilian disguise. Sal wondered if Great Tree would be here… Watching all the festivities and wondering if he felt proud or disgusted for how the heroes were turning out to be. He wondered. 

The therapist continued to search as Radley impatiently tapped his foot with his face scowling, deepening as the other roommate’s phone must’ve gone to voicemail. “Blueberry bubblegum bitch,” the historian cursed and Sun hummed in agreement. “He’ll find us. Let’s just head over to the atrium and wait around the lobby, I’m sure there’ll be seats there.” As the trio started their long stretch to reach the atrium, the spa therapist glazed over to the garden and stopped. His lavender eyes widened as he spun towards Sun and Radley and pulled them back, urgency rushing to his veins as he pointed across the way. 

“What the hell, Sal?” Radley asked until he looked across the way. Sun follows the line of the finger and curses under her breath. “Crap.” Sal had finally found Cici accidentally, but Cici looked like he was anything but calm. And even from a distance, the trio can agree that the man of silver hair was making Cici uncomfortable. 

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30 Minutes until the Festival of Stars

Cici was waiting at the entrance of the garden for the other roommates. He sent a text through their group chat to meet him at the front of the garden so he could get the trio into the back and get their seats together. He watched as the people trickled in and started to cash out for the merch of the moon hero with a fever. It was hilarious to see the people snip and snap at one another as they tried to fight over a doll of the hero. 

Cici never really got into the whole hero gimmick, even when he was still dating Fairen, he never really saw the craze behind the heroes and their merch. Yes, he was the money-making machines work away, but he wondered if the heroes ever felt… odd about their faces being printed out on fabrics and being sold to whoever wanted a doll. With good or bad intentions. Allin was similar to him when they were growing up. The younger brother didn’t have a favorite hero, he liked some of the heroes, but he didn’t have a favorite nor did he ask for any doll or toy of a hero. The brothers didn’t really see a reason to have these dolls or toys. 

Cici thinks it’s cute when a child gets a toy of their favorite hero. He could imagine a time when Aphrodite got her first moon hero doll and was so happy when she got the toy that she almost sang her heart out and made the block deaf. Maybe he should ask if she ever had that reaction as a child. The blue-and-white-haired male watches as people stream in and he steps aside as a few couples walk into the gardens. Some were gay, some were straight, and a few he could tell were just one their first date. It was cute…

It made him remember his first date. 

It was calm, the beach was cool with the sand just containing the last of the warmth from the sun. He remembers fiddling with the ribbed cuffs of his sweater as he walked alongside the silver man who he had developed a crush on. Fairen was a bit shorter in stature, his body was more defined and his hair was only up to his shoulders, but that was enough to sway the ladies and men. For Cici, it was how the two walked with the accepted quiet, hands grabbing one another but not quite ready to hold onto one another. The silver man would glance at him as they continued to walk where the sea barely grazed the higher land, their feet barely getting wet and the tension only getting stronger with each step. 

Cici wanted to say something. To confess or offer to do anything that wasn’t just silence. But his social skills were already lacking and his romance one-liners were absolutely garbage (he memorized a few from some 1960’s rom com movies but he was too flustered to say one). He wants to tell the other how much he enjoys walking along the beach with a silent atmosphere because restaurants make him feel small and cramped. 

He has been exposed to the world of loud sounds and university has been a great therapy exposure for him to get used to the lay of the land. Fairen was nice enough to offer his car for the ride, he had bought some fast food as the first date dinner and while everyone with the right mind might say that the idea of buying fast food for a first date dinner was atrocious, Cici had been eating powdered chicken ramen for two weeks straight and was more than happy to take the food that was offered. Fairen was more well off in terms of money due to too many scholarships and Cici would admit that his jealousy for that money was steadily rising as the silver man drove them in a car that was far too expensive for Cici to upkeep. 

The food was good for him, he loved every bite while the two of them sat in the back of the car and watched the sunset, sipping on soda turned lukewarm, and munching on salty fries that were barely salted or too salty. It was one of the better meals that Cici has had in the few weeks he’s been at university. The food was greatly appreciated and he was lucky that the date was casual because his suit was lacking a blazer and dress pants were torn and fraying at the edges, he really was going to look like a freak if he entered a restaurant, especially an Olive Garden . 

The duo stopped at the selection of the beach where the rocks were jagged and full of grime and algae, with cracked or fully formed mussel shells littering the ground and seagulls cawing their heinous speech in the air. Cici curled his hands into the ribbed cuffs and rubbed his enclosed fists up and down his arms, trying to push back against the cold of the sea. The smell of saltwater always made his head light but seeing the ocean and finding the world simply melting away from his mind with the crashing of seafoam brushing onto the grains of the land made the light-headedness worth it. The taller of the two had his eyes trained ahead, his arms lax and shuffled into his jean pockets while Cici wore a worn baby blue sweater with sweatpants two sizes too big. 

He definitely looked like a fashion major student. 

At some point of standing and letting the breeze brush against the two of them with Cici shivering slightly. The silver-haired male slowly wrapped his arm around Cici, pulling him close to keep him warm. Oh, the blush on his face when he was shuffled into the arms of a man who was hotter than the Bachelor’s bachelors.

The blueberry-haired male smiled as another couple walked by, one of the gentlemen was reaching for his backpocket and Cici winked at the soon-to-be fiances. The crowds were getting larger, the time was 30 minutes until showtime and Cici wondered if the other roommates were still in line or just getting in line. He really hoped it was the former. The smell of something aromatic caught his attention and oh, how his stomach grumbled when he saw the waffle cone with different ice creams covered in an ungodly amount of toppings that would put anyone into a sugar crash. The designer bit his cheek as he stared at the waffle cone, he shouldn't… but he was hungry. 

The show was in 30 minutes and he could eat that waffle cone in ten. But he can see how expensive these waffle cones are, his wallet is hurting but his stomach is tempting him more than he can imagine. The business seemed slow and the makers were simply buying time, waiting for money that would eventually land in their pockets. Cici had a job and that was to wait for his roommates and go backstage to Aphrodite to give her a prep talk and to make sure the dress was perfect, then find the seating that would start to filter in with everyone. Radley would be pissed if Cici wasn’t in his spot. But he also hated how his mind was retracing steps back to his dates and late-nights sobbing sessions after his breakup. 

He really, really, really wished Fairen had grown a pair of bigger balls to at least break up in-person. Five years- 1825 days of happy smiles, giggling fits, kissing, sex, going on trills and meeting a family who has given him more love than any of his foster homes has ever given him. Support, embraces, gentle words, and soft touches that made him melt into a puddle when his body was stricken with fear and recoiling as if he was waiting for a hand to hit him. There were days when he couldn’t breathe because his body was not his own and his mind was not his to control. 

There were times when he thought the world was imploding on him and times when he felt like he swallowed gallons of sand and glass because he couldn’t find himself to be confident. There were times when he was placed back in the worst of the worst of foster homes and when a soft touch was enough, he broke like a dam holding back minutes and seconds of trauma that no godfather was there to kiss to make him feel better. Maybe that’s why the break up hurt as much as it did. Five years of love that he was lacking since childhood was stolen away and left him hollow with only haunting memories to follow his shadow.

Screw it, he wants an ice cream waffle cone. 

A quick skip to the cart, a beep from his card to the autopay, and two minutes of waiting was worth it to take a bite of the warm cone with ice cream that was the perfect amount of sweetness. He didn’t waste a bite as he ate the treat faster than he expected and finished it off in seven minutes. He wiped his mouth and licked his lips in joy as the sweetness of the treat settled on his tongue and his belly happily thanked him for his contribution to making it a happy camper. The blue designer returned to his spot at the garden entrance and rolled on his heels as he looked over the heads of people who were now heading into the atrium to watch a gallery of performances by the best of the best, including the magnificent Aphrodite. 

 The plaza’s light flickered on and he nodded his head in agreement for the execution of the plaza. The normal orange-yellow lights were replaced with blues and purples, the lamp-posts were covered in spiraling LEDs and star motifs. The footpath into the garden was covered in glow-in-the-dark coons and constellations. There was even a kid’s section of the plaza with a carousel that replaced the horses and animals with star constellations and star signs. He thinks this would be a good date night if he and Farien were still a thing. 

Ugh… Why is his brain reminding him of the enemy?

The blueberryette stuck his tongue out and shook his head. He needed a distraction to get his mind off of the silver hero. He needs to find the trio and make sure they know where he is. The man took out his phone and scrolled into the roommates group chat and shot a message through, reminding them to grab the cupcakes and to meet him at the entrance of the garden. Cici looks around and starts to wonder if he should take a picture of the entrance… it’s not hard to find but if the crowds are too dense and hard to move to get to the garden… Maybe he should take a picture. 

Cici pulls out the camera and takes a few steps back, aiming his phone up and after twisting the angle a little to get the full sign in view, he snaps the picture. Not the best of quality but it’s better than nothing. As Cici turned his phone upright to send the picture he stepped back and bumped into someone. “Oh shit- sorry! I didn’t mean to-” The designer spun around to see the poor person he accidently bumped into and hoped they were just chill and not going to yell at him for bumping into them because there are people who will be an ass about other people bumping into them for one reason or another. 

But to his horror and his heart that was ready to give out, he bumped into someone he does not want to bump into.

Fairen seemed to be just as surprised to have bumped into Cici. The silver man was quick to face Cici and give him his full attention. The blueberry stepped back as he felt his cheeks grow warm, he should leave. He needs to get away and hope to god that he can find Sal or Radley, or Sun- someone he knows and pretend that they are his lover because he doesn’t want to make the mistake of letting his heart take back the man who hurt him all those years ago. He can’t risk it. “Sorry- didn’t see you there, I’lljustbegoingnow,” the designer starts to turn to run but a heavy limb wraps around his wrist, “Cici wait-”

“Nope- nope- nope- I don’t know you and I’m sorry for bumping into you. Please let go of me before I start screaming and get this event cancelled-” Cici babbers as he tugs at his wrist to break free from the other man. “Cici.” Fairen states and the designer cringes as his body goes still and he hesitantly faces the ex-boyfriend. Only when he looks at the ex does the silver man let go of the wrist and his lavender eyes dare lure the different hues of blue to look at him closer. The two stared at one another, letting the air around them cloud with unease and hesitance. Fairen looks like he wants to say so many things but what can he say?

He can’t say sorry because he had no right to be forgiven. He can’t start off with small talk because he sucks at it. And he certainly can’t beg for Cici’s attention because the blue-haired male is very unsure of what was going to happen. Cici isn’t sure if he can stand and wait for the other to speak because he needs to go. He needs to find someone he trusts to help him out of the panic attack that’s about to come on because his mind is shooting memories from the locked closet he shoved them all in because he can’t do this. He can’t pretend that the man he thought he would marry still has an impact on him and makes him afraid to even try dating another person. He’s too scared to admit that his heart is singing for the return of steady arms and a warm body to keep his nightmares away. 

He’s not having the nightmares anymore but he’s still waking up afraid and out of breath.

“You grew your hair out.” Cici blinks and responds, “What?” The once-rookie of the Heroes’ Program clears his throat and repeats, “You grew out your hair. I remember it was shorter.” The statement takes Cici back to the night he snipped off all his hair in a night of blurry eyes with tears and a tv playing the most recent praise for Fairen’s hard work. He remembers his brother coming into the bathroom and helping him cut the already snipped off hair into an even length. The older brother took a pair of dull scissors and hacked away at his long locks and cried as his heart sang a melody of anguish because the silver hero decided that he was nothing compared to the glory of hero work. 

Fairen must’ve seen Cici with his short hair about three years ago. 

Oh… 

That’s right… 

It’s been three years today since their break up. 

“You look good. With the long hair, I mean.” Fairen comments, his hands shoved into his jean pockets as he looks at every peck of Cici’s face as if he was committing his face to memory again. “Yeah, well I thought it would be nice to grow it out.” Cici crosses his arms and looks everywhere that wasn’t the hero’s face. Seriously, of all the times he’s alone and needing a roommate to save his ass, there was no one. “How is Allin? If I remember correctly, he recently moved.” Cici doesn’t need to hold back his offended face when the ex mentions his brother. “You have no fucking right to ask about my brother. As far as you are concerned, my brother has a vendetta against you and wants your head on a silver platter to feed to the moose in the backyard.” Fairen, this time, looks confused, “Mooses? Allin has a herd of moose?”

“Yes! At least thirteen or more. And he wants me to tell him where you live so he can kill you.” Cici snips as he squints. Allin doesn't have thirteen moose but hey, he has a right to make a bluff. Fairen raises an eyebrow with his mouth hitching into a half-smile. 

Oh no. No. No. No! He does not have the right to make that smile that will make Cici smile. That stupid face of his always has this symmetry that makes him look so nice to stare at. No. No. No. “Stop smiling, dickface.” Cici bites, trying so hard to hold back his own smile that is daring to worm its way to his face. “Oh? So now we’re calling eachother names? I thought you hated doing that. It was “unprofessional” and “immature” in your opinion.” Fairen teases. His posture relaxes and his head tilts, that smile is wide but warm, like he was teasing a lover. Cici feels his cheeks getting warmer and his heart dares flutter at the thought of smiling at him. “Well- I have a roommate who puts a sailor’s mouth to shame so unfortunately, I have been impacted.” 

The pale heliotrope hair sways as the other chuckles with his head nodding, “Right… You have roommates now? I remember you hated having roommates.” Cici snorts as he retorts, “They are actually good company. They’ve made me happy. Happier than when I was with you.” Ouch. Did he really have to say that? “Oh yeah? Life wasn’t as fun as it was when we were living together?” The hero inquires, but there’s no hurt in his voice. It’s all open. No judgement. Just curiosity in his tone. 

“Yep. They are so much better and give more shit about me than you ever did in the rookie program.” There’s a flinch in the eyebrows of the hero. “Well, I guess I wasn’t a very good boyfriend back then, huh?” Fairen asks, his mouth forming into a small pout. Cici bites back, “When you break up with someone after five years and were planning proposing to the significant other, it definitely put you on the “worst boyfriends to ever exist” in my books.” The taller grunts as he shifts upright. “Well I… I mean I didn’t want to- but… You know how much I wanted to work with them.”  He stressed slightly while glancing around to make sure no one was looking. 

Oh. Oh, that’s rich . That is absolute gold coming from the bastard who stole five years of his life from him. “You know, for a hero who is supposed to be loved by everyone- I sure as hell hope you know that I hate you. I hate you for everything you put me through.” Fairen looks slightly alarmed when the word “hero” slips from Cici’s lips and when the silver man steps forward, Cici takes three steps back. “ Cici- don’t say that so loud! Do you know how much trouble there’ll be if you say that loud enough?” The designer scoffs, “Don’t worry, my roommates already know and hate your guts anyways so don’t worry about it.” 

Maybe he shouldn't have admitted that. 

The steel eyes widen and then two hands are wrapped around Cici’s arms, “ You said what?” The designer tries to pull back but the hero’s grip tightens. “You told them?! You told them about my identity.” He hissed. Cici feels his heart thud and his hands start to tremble as he remembers the hand of a man rising, he remembers how harshly the man gripped his arm as the hand came down. It hurt so bad. He sobbed for hours in the dark after he was tossed into the beaten closet. His arm and cheek were so bruised, half of his body looked like a bruised banana. “Let go of me, Fairen.” Cici whispers, his eyes wide and his body feels like jello. He’s going to collapse if he doesn’t sit down, his legs will crumble and his body will melt into nothing if he doesn’t get away. 

He can’t do this. Not now. Not with this man looking at him with such panic. It’s an unsaid rule that not even the lovers of a hero tell their family that you are with a hero and you know their identity. And Cici just admitted to telling four strangers that Fairen doesn’t know. Oh god, he can’t be here. He needs to get back to Aphrodite and have her play a song for him. He can’t breathe if this man looks at him with such worry and love. His eyes are never just love or care- they are always full of worry and pity. Always filled with longing and love, but never does Cici ever see the man look at him with just love. 

Right now, he looks like he’s going to faint by just staring at Cici. 

“Fairen- seriously, let me go. You’re hurting me.” The silver hero must’ve had some semblance of a thought in his racing mind because he let go so fast as if Cici was on fire, and took a few steps back. The hero can see the other’s hands shaking, he could see how the body of the designer is trembling and now, if the blueberry man breaks into a panic attack, then there is about to be a lot of trouble. Cici inhales slowly and says, “Do not touch me again. Understand?” The hero nods. “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to grab you. Honest, I just- why would you tell anyone about my identity? You know how dangerous that would be for us if-”

“Blueberry!” Both heads snap over to see a group of three approaching. Cici feels his heart suddenly soar and his lungs are begging for air when he sees the trio approach. “We’ve been looking for you, you didn’t text us that you were in the garden, blueberry bitch.” Radley states as he strides over. Sal comes from behind Radley and takes the side of the designer, his arm hooking around the waist and pulls Cici closer to his side as Sun approaches with cupcakes in her hands. Cici notices how Radley takes up most of the space between the duo and how Sal presses himself closer while Sun stands off to the side with her eyes half-open and her mouth down-turned. “Who is this?” Sun inquires as she glances at Cici. 

“No one. Just… someone from uni.” Cici replies, curling closer to Sal. The silver hero notices how Sal’s grip tightens around the designer and he forces a smile that says everything that Cici needs to know, “Yeah… Just a friend from our uni days. See you around Cici.” And just like that, the man turns and walks off. His shoulders tighten and his posture gets straighter the further he walks away from the others. 

The trio watch the other walk off and when he gets lost in the fray of the crowd, only then does Cici melt and nearly fall to the ground. “Shit-” Sun curses as Sal suddenly becomes Cici’s support. “You good? We saw the guy grab you-” Cici shakes his head and wheezes out, “Bench. I need to- sit, now-”

The purple man leads Cici to a bench by the entrance of the garden and sits with him, his hand curling around Cici’s left as the designer takes a slow amount of inhales and then settles his heart as it pounds in his ears. Sun takes up the other side of the bench as she rubs her hand up and down the man’s spine, leaving Radley to take watch and scare off anyone to stare longer than five seconds at the man who was about to dissolve into a panic attack. The roommates were lucky to reach Cici in time when the man let go of him. Sal swears he saw red the minute the man placed his hands on Cici, he had a feeling that the silver man was more than what Cici is willing to say but the spa therapist can’t help but remember when the designer had a similar situation back at the mall. 

“There we go, deep breaths. Count to six, hold for seven, out for eight. Keep going,” Sun whispered as she continued her actions while glancing to Radley who shrugged but Sal opened his lips to mouth to Sun but Cici exhales shakily with a whisper so soft that the three nearly miss it in the fray of the crowds talking, “He’s Lord Faerie. That was his civilian clothing. He’s here for recon. He has to be here for recon.” Radley shoots his head back where the man had disappeared and he looks one step away from running into the crowd to break in the man’s face. Sal was already eyeing a stand who was using a butter knife to smear some paste on a dessert, and Sun was kicking both men in the shins while speaking softly to Cici, “Do we need to call Aphrodite?”

Cici shakes his head, “No. No. He’s- he’s here for recon. That’s why he’s here. He’s protecting someone. Most likely the Lady Moon so it’s fine…” The designer inhales slowly and exhales, “It’s fine… It’s going to be fine.” Sal looks unsure as he leans his head down to make eye contact with the other, his lavender eyes meet with the sapphires and with the smallest of nods, the four start to make their way out of the main crowd and into the back of the atrium to reach Aphrodite. 

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Ten Minutes before The Festival of Stars

The rooms were full of activity as musicians and singers gathered around the edges of the stage and back rooms to see if they could find their loved ones in the audience in the front row. Aphrodite was in one of the makeup chairs, carefully doting her lips with the purple gloss as she squinted with her precision being on point. She dares not to ruin this makeup and she refuses to let this look be the look of shame. 

Her lower lashes were long and fluffed with white eyeliner while her face was only punched with a small amount of blush with her lips being taken care of the most. Everything else was taken care of; her hair was long and carefully curled with the help of some of the makeup girls fixing up the gentlemen's makeup touches, her neck-collar was firmly buttoned up by Maxim who offered to help as his girlfriend gushed over her dress. Coco truly was a sweet woman, full of life and soft words that would make anyone melt into a puddle of joy and happiness. 

Aphrodite was in the room, struggling to fit her corset as Maxim waited outside to get changed. The purplette was struggling and grunts as the strings weren’t as tight as she needed them to be to latch onto the tops of the underskirt. “Doing alright in there?” Maxim asked worriedly, bless that man for being so kind. “Not- not really! I can’t seem to close this piece,” she replied. She heard a small chatter of voices then a soft knock, “Hi there! I’m Coco, I can help if you like.” A sweet voice chimed. Maxim must’ve waved his girlfriend down and she came to help her. Gods, they are the cutest couple in this world. 

“Yes! Yes please!” Aphrodite responded, somewhat relieved for help. Cici was supposed to be back here helping her get into her under-layers before her dress but she got a text from Sun saying that they needed to get into the audience unless they wanted to lose their seats and at this point, Aphrodite would take anyone to help her get into this dress. The woman unlocked the door and hid behind it so Maxim didn’t see anything and a shorter woman entered; she was much smaller in height than Aphrodite realized but she found this smaller height to be adorable as the woman came up to her chin and was smiling so brightly, she could rival the sun. “Hey there! I’m Coco,” she offered her hand which Aphrdoite shook profusely, “Name’s Aphrodite- please help.” 

Coco firmly nodded and went behind the other, her hands taking hold of the corset back and evenly paced herself to tighten the corset around the harpist, “This is such a beautiful corset! Did you make it?” Coco asked as she tightened a quarter of the corset. “No, my roommate, he’s a designer and he made this for me after a fiasco with an online dress,” Coco hisses in sympathy. “Been there! I have to buy some dresses from an online store because it’s too expensive in the city but sometimes, you get fooled by the pictures!” Aphrodite hums and rolls her shoulders as the corset gets slightly tighter. 

“If you don’t mind my prying, how long have you and Maxim been together?” The wisteria-colored musician asked. The petite lady of long chocolate hair giggled with red blush dusting her cheeks, “Nearly five years if you believe it! He’s such an amazing violinist! We met by chance and I have been over the moon for years! Even after all this time! He still gets my heart to flutter whenever he kisses or holds my hand.” Aphrodite coos at the sentiment. There were times where she had a lover and thought that they were the ones she would marry one day. 

There was that one cocky boyfriend who she thought- even after a one-time hook-up that they could get married one day but that was quickly cut short after one night that would lead to one of the worst moments of her life nearly ten months later. “And no ring?” Aphrodite teases as the girl behind her tightens the last of the corset strings. “Not yet! We’re taking our time! When he feels ready, I’ll be right by his side!” With one last tightening of the strings, the two stepped out of the room and Aphrodite did a little spin to show off the length of her underskirt. “Looks great! Thank you again for helping me!” The purplette thanked as she took the woman’s hands to squeeze in appreciation. 

“Of course! Let me get you a warm mug of hot cocoa! It’ll soothe your nerves!” And just as she appeared to help Aphrodite in her time of need, she zipped out of the hall into the kitchen. The purple-haired woman blinked and turned to watch in awe as the little woman was fast on her feet and disappeared in a blink. Maxim chuckles, “She’s quick on her feet. It's a little terrifying when she comes at you at full speed.” He slips into the room and his costume is much more sophisticated than Aphrtodite was expecting (internally causing doubt on her dress but she has to trust herself to know that she will Cici do justice with that dress). “Say, Maxim-” She called as she took a seat at the makeup chair as she observed the man getting his black with gold trim vest over his shoulders. 

“When are you gonna ask the lovely woman to marry you?” All movements ceased from Maxim as he turned to look at the other woman who smiled so innocently. “Five years… That’s a long time to wait for marriage.” Cici was waiting for five years to marry a man he thought loved him more than the world. Cici told her in hushed whispers about the wedding pamphlets under the bed and the rings he poured his heart into research to find the right ring for the silver man to wear on patrol or in public. Five years of Cici’s life wasted for a man who dropped him with a tip of a hat and didn’t look back until Cici started to rebuild himself. Now it seems like the ex was everywhere that Cici was. Not unsettling at all. 

The poor man looked like he was facing a ghost, he opened and closed his mouth as he fumbled with his words. “Well- I- I plan to-” He stumbled but was (luckily) interrupted by Coco who appeared with three mugs. “I’m back!” She cheered softly as she passed one mug to Aphrodite and the other to her boyfriend, “I have to get into my seat but I’ll have my camera out and waiting for you! Then we can go to the gardens like you wanted!” One last wave from the little woman and she was gone again. 

Maxim blinked a few times and cleared his throat as he set his mug down, “I… Uh… Actually I had a plan for tonight.” He admits quietly. He tucks out a velvet red box and when he pops open the ring, Aphrodite smiles. “A perfect ring for the perfect girl. She’s lucky to have you.” The woman commented as Maxim chuckled, “If it was the last performance, I would’ve asked her on stage but I don’t want to take the spotlight from you. Best of luck by the way! Break a leg.” The man tucks the box back into his dress pants pocket and swoops his golden green cape over his shoulders and rushes towards one of the practice rooms as it opens. 

A lot of the singers were rushing to practice before the show started. While the festival was titled, “The Festival of Stars,” it didn’t actually “begin” until the performances started. That’s supposedly where Lady Moon was going to be watching and then afterwards, she would make an announcement as “thanks” for everyone attending her festival and performing such masterpieces for her. Aphrodite won’t be staying long, after she finishes; she’ll get into her comfortable clothes, meet up with the others, then the five of them will buy some fast food and then head back to the apartment for a movie night or to get drunk and sleep the day away the next day. 

The woman doesn’t want to stay any longer than she needs to. Aphrodite applied the last of her lip-gloss to her lips and after a few pops of her lips to make sure there was no smear, the harpist leaned back and hummed happily. She hopped off the chair and immediately almost ran into someone, “Oh!-” She gasped as she stepped back and bumped into the makeup table. “Oh! Oh- sorry!” A tall man exclaimed as he offered his large hands to steady Aphrodite. “No, no! I’m sorry! I wasn’t looking!”

The gentleman in front of her was large in frame but wearing the sweetest smile like he was a massive Saint Bernard with a big happy smile. And he was towering over the musician, his long chocolate brown hair was tangled and fluffed out like a Pomeranian fur. “No, no, no! It’s okay! I was just trying to help backstage, I wasn’t looking where I was going. I’m sorry!” He urged as he helped the purplette stand upright and away from the table. “Oh, well thank you for helping me.” The man nodded his head quickly and was already starting to back away, “Well, break a leg and see you during the show!” They cheered as they raced off into the darkness of the backstage. Leaving the harpist to be slightly frazzled and confused but steady to not fall over. 

The woman of purple ombre blinked a few more times before deciding to kill the time to see if her roommates were in the audience. She would normally want to see her parents in the crowd, back then, she was always so afraid to perform without her parents in the crowd, but after…

Seeing her parents in the audience now would make her feel like she’ll die. As the purple-toned woman scooted towards the stage and took a quick glance around the audience she was relieved to have found Sal’s head of hair with the other two in the audience but further back from the front stage. When Cici and Aphrodite came to the atrium, they tried to see if they could budge the numbers of letting the other three sit next to them but there was a stern objection to this by the staff because they didn’t want to risk booting someone that could potentially be Lady Moon in civilian disguise. 

But as the harpist looked into the front row, she struggled to see where Cici was. She knows that he found his seat because he placed her comfortable clothes on the seat to save it for himself and she knows that he wouldn’t miss this for the world-

Oh! There he is! Next to…

She doesn't know a whole lot about Cici’s ex but she knows he’s a hero, she knows that if a hero is in the audience in a civilian form, then that has to mean that the moon hero is in the audience as well. Aphrodite watched the silver man next to Cici try to say something but the roommate wasn’t giving him anything. Simply staying still or looking at the phone for the time. 

Ohhhh- if Aphrodite could just get Cici to come backstage and hide him in the back so he doesn’t have to deal with the ex OR she could call security…

She had to choose her many options to make the ex’s time at the festival the worst. The lights above started to dim and someone behind her hissed, “One minute!” And while the woman wanted to stay to see if the ex would push it against Cici or if the roommate is going to finally punch the guy, she pulled away from the curtains and hurried to the room, sweeping past a man with a large arm and a woman wearing a red priestess robes and holding red bells in her hair. 

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Showtime

The lights above started to dim, ushering the audience to slowly quiet down and to focus their attention on the stage that started to light up with the stars glowing with the speaker coming up to the stage to usher the rest of the audience members entering the room to find their ears while juggling kids or snacks. “Welcome everyone! To the Festival of Stars!” The MC started, tossing one arm in the air and letting the ceiling shift hues to the starry night with the stage lights dimming and the constellation projectors shuttered on with a round of applause by everyone in the room. 

Now with us today is a gallery of musicians, artists, DJs, and of course- works of art dedicated to our glorious Moon hero! Lady Moon cannot be here with us in her hero costume but she is here- somewhere in the audience! For all you know, she could be sitting right next to you!” A soft murmur rippled through the audience as everyone searched around to see if they could find a hero in a costume that wasn’t a child. 

Cici was holding a furious pout with his arms crossed as Fairen sat next to him. The silver hero was stiff as a board and looking everywhere that wasn’t the blueberry-haired male next to him that looked ready to kill him with a snap of his hands. Luna was having a fun time pretending to look for “Lady Moon”. Fairen wasn’t even expecting to be sitting next to Cici, he genuinely didn’t know that he would be sitting next to him and the moment the man saw him for the second time, Fairne was sure that he signed his death warrant. “Fairen- move! I want to sit down.” Luna pressed against his back and the man stumbled to his seat, keeping his head down from the obvious glare that Cici was giving him and the death-stares that he was more than likely getting from the roommates a few rows back. 

Cici stared at him with the awe and hatred that could fill in his eyes. The audacity that Farien had to sit next to him while trying to hide his face from the man. Oh, he has every right to cause mayhem. He already felt flushed and uneasy when he was separated from the others to take his seat, he really just wants to get this over with, and moreover, get so drunk that he forgets the festival altogether. He’s sure that Aphrodite would want to do the same but just drink for fun rather than forget the night. The woman next to Fairen shuffled in her seat comfortably as she leaned on the silver man, “This is so exciting! I can’t wait!” She whispered and while Cici doesn’t know who this woman is to Farien, he has this awful gnawing feeling that she is related to Lady Moon in some capacity. 

The hero of glass wings flinches when he sees Cici staring at him with an expression that just says, “What the fuck” and while Luna was oblivious to the face the other was making, Fairen very much felt like he needed to die right then and there. He hadn’t meant to make the run-in with Cici to end so poorly. He- He was just surprised to see Cici at a festival for a hero and he just took a chance to try and rebuild a bridge that he burned down nearly three years ago. After the encounter with the other three roommates entering the conversation, Fairen felt himself get flustered as he recalled the few nights prior when he saw Cici sleeping with a pink-haired woman and now a taller male wrapping his arms around Cici to pull him closer. 

If Cici turned poly, then his brother is to blame in some ironic twist. 

Fairen had nothing against poly-relationships. He thinks it's great! But he can’t help but feel that jolt of jealousy as he approached Luna who was snacking on a waffle-cone she purchased. He felt so angry about something he knew he caused. And with the ex staring at him with such vigor of hate, he really wishes he had approached the meeting in a better way, and shouldn’t have grabbed Cici’s shoulders like that. It most likely brought back poor memories. The lights above started to dim and as everyone started to hush and settle in, Fairen hears Cici snarl in his ear, “You try anything, I’m cutting your dick off.”

And Fairen knows when Cici is making a bluff or a genuine threat. Luna leans on the opposite side and goes, “It’s starting! It’s starting!” Lady Moon’s attitude started to change the longer the duo waited in the civilian line. Luna was, at first, apprehensive, unsure how the festival was going to perform, but after she saw the turnout and witnessed all the children and families with couples and friends gathering around places where they celebrate the night sky and her work- her tune changed. She started to take photos of everything and giggled when the children would run around with their parents laughing as they quoted her and when a local DJ started to play a softer playlist full of songs dedicated to her, she was pulled into a small dance party with a little girl who took her hand and danced. The parents laughed with Luna as she danced and soon, she was leading a little dance party with the kids. 

Fairen found her later with a waffle-cone and far too many photos of people and kids dressed up as her. The silver hero was happy that she was changing her tune and when they were filtering down to their row, the woman of dark hair kept chatting about how much she loved how everyone was uniting under one hero and how she adored all the kids wearing their costumes, and the more she blabbered, the more excited she got for the show. 

So when the MC announced the beginning of the show, the woman couldn’t sit still- her hands gripping onto Fairen tightly. She was practically bouncing in her seat with joy with how the show started to dim the lights, the night sky was projected onto the ceiling, and the projectors displayed the constellations dancing around the stage as the MC announced his opening speech then detailed the hard work every artist and musician had put into their pieces dedicated to Lady Moon. 

The moon hero wiggled in her seat and jostled the silver hero in his seat, “Luna-” he whispered as he tried to make his space in his seat as small as he can for Cici’s sake because he really doesn’t want to know what will happen after the show if he bumps him at all during the show. Cici’s pouting glare is enough for Fairen to know not to mess with him during this show. This was for someone else. Not him. 

“Now! Everyone put your hands together for the first act of our glorious night! Shining Glimmer with her piece, “Moonlight Kiss!” Enjoy!” And as the room dimmed to darkness, the pop star came to the stage and what started as a slow song, became a head-bop that Luna full-throttled her head back and forth. And from the Heroes Command lounge, the heroes watching the TV were laughing as they saw Luna head-banging to the music in the far corner of the TV camera.

“She’s going to break her neck if she’s not careful.” Sasha chuckles as she nurses a mug of Earl Gray in her hands. Archer hums in agreement while Ruben drapes himself over the green hero with his head resting in the other’s lap, “But she’s having a fun time! I wonder if her sibling is there too?” Pono grunts while Archer responds, “No. Unfortunately, Sabine is out on patrol with the other two members of the Space Trio Vigilantes. There is a reason why Sprinkle isn't here with us trying to eat the TV.” Pono chokes on their piece of fruit as Ruben “ah’s” in memory. 

“They have really weird eating habits.”

“Didn’t they eat a whole PS5 at one point?” 

“Oh yeah, Stormy was pissed beyond belief. It must’ve been funny for Millie to see an X-Ray of Sprinkle’s insides.”

“Remind me where they come from again?” Pono asks the group. 

Everyone goes silent for a few minutes and Freya enters the room with her mug of tea, “Outer space is the only acceptable answer for now.” 

The hero of frost sits on the sofa chair and watches the TV, her face neutral as she listens to the pop song go on for another minute before making a disapproving hum as she sips her tea. “Someone put me into a coma if someone tries to write a pop song about me.” There was a collective verbal answer of promise until Ruben sits upright and looks around, his flames flickering with his head as he looks at the kitchen, then the door, and to the hero of frost. “Where’s your apprentice? I thought he was staying here for the show.” Freya shook her head as she set her mug on the table with a coaster sliding under the hot mug. “He went to visit Clara. Saying something about wanting to finish a sweater he was knitting for me but forgot that it is an early birthday gift so my surprise is spoiled.” Sasha coos softly as she looks at the frost hero, “Try to act surprised at least.” 

The other nods, “Of course. It’s my apprentice, I care about his well-being, unlike Ruben.” A loud “hey” echoes in the room and Pono curses at the fire starter as he almost kicks the tray of fruit onto the ground from his sudden kick of limbs to sit upright on Archer’s lap, practically straddling him. 

Shimmering Glimmer finished her song with a flash of the moon rising in the background and the ground going wild; causing the walls to shake and the floor to rumble. Some people cover their ears from the sheer magnitude of the people’s applause. The pink-and-purple glimmering songer bowed and kissed the audience goodbye as the MC returned to the stage, “Give another round of applause for Shimmering Glimmer!” Luna settles back into her seat as she giggles and shouts over the fray of the people to Fairen, “That was amazing!”

The silver hero flinches from her pitched voice but nods along. His ears were still ringing from the boom of the bass and the high notes sung by the woman, she definitely has the pipes for the pop music world. As everyone settles again as the MC starts the next introduction, the silver man claps his hands over his ears as the crowd erupts again into loud cheers and squeals as a boy band appears on stage and starts their number with a DJ in the back of the set. 

And for about ten minutes of pop, country, and somehow- techno music, Fairen’s ears were positively ringing and he swears that he is going to see if Great Tree can get an appointment for him with an audiologist to make sure that he isn’t going to go deaf. The next DJ started to walk on stage and Luna was no longer in her seat, now dancing with the crowd as they jumped and pumped their hands in the air, Fairen slid further into his chair as he cringed more with the loud yelling and music thumping into his veins. His body was made up of the booming music and he felt his consciousness starting to slip out of his grasp as he started to fall into a world of booming sounds and lack of awareness if he was alive. 

So this must be an overstimulation. 

There was a soft touch on his shoulder which snapped the man out of his dissociated state and when he turned, he was surprised to find Cici holding an unopened pair of ear plugs in his palms. The silver hero blinked a few times and his hand gently reached over to scoop up the ear plugs, his fingertips brushing against the palm of the designer’s. Once he opened the plugs and stuffed them into his ears, the world was muffled and he just fell into heaven when the world’s screaming was turned into barely audible muffling. 

The silver-winged hero turns back to Cici who raises his hands and starts to sign, “* YOU GOOD?” After a few seconds of the other recollecting his thoughts, he signed back , “* YES, THANK YOU. EAR PLUGS FROM WHERE?” Cici jolts his thumb back to where the other three roommates were sitting but were covered by the fray of the crowd. Fairen is quick to sign thank you as the music starts to die down and everyone starts to settle back in their seats. Cici taps the ear plugs to pull out and once the ringing died down, the speaker came out and waved to the crowd, “Let's take a break now! And get ready for act two! This time- a more gentler approach to the world of the night.” He said slowly with his voice drawing into a slower tone and as everyone started to stand, Fairen slumped into his chair in relief. 

“I’ll be right back! I’m grabbing snacks.” Luna chirped as she hopped up and started to follow a family who was holding their two daughters in one arm each. Cici looked around to see if he could find his roommates but sadly, they were lost in the fray of the crowds moving and chatting. “Thank you Cici.” The designer turned his head to Fairen who was slouching in the chair with his hands over his eyes. Cici scoffed, “No problem. I could tell you were in hell with that music.” 

The silver hero chuckles, “Yeah… Yeah, I think I got overstimulated in the process.” The designer nodded in sympathy as he replied, “Yeppers, that’ll happen. I brought extras in case my roommates needed them but it seems that you needed them too.” Fairen nods and after a few more people shuffle behind them out of their seats, Cici says, “Is she the hero this festival is for?” Jolting Fairen out of his slouched state. “What?” He asked, looking at Cici with confusion but feeling the rise of warmth dust his cheeks as worry starts to fall in. 

“That girl with you- is she the moon or a girlfriend?” Fairen sputters as he raises his hands to cover Cici’s mouth but stops before he can inch his hands forward, he hovers over the seat’s arms and he grips his hands into fists, “She is… no one. Just a friend.” 

The hesitance is enough for Cici to know who she is. 

“So why is she here and not in her costume?” Cici asks, turning his head to the stage. He wonders if Aphrodite would feel better later on after a few bottles in if she cared at all if Lady Moon was in the audience or not. “The higher ups don’t want her to be out, they said it was a safety issue.” Which Cici scoffs at. “Are the higher ups still running the command? I thought that was fixed in our fourth year of dating.” The silver hero grunts as he responds with a bitter tone, “Not quite. There was a positive change but then it got worse.” Cici hums as he crosses his arms. 

The current mayor wasn’t doing the best job with taking care of the city. He was running it like it was a machine rather than a city full of people. The level of audacity the man has when he talks about the better change for the common people, but it pushes harsher punishments and realities for the Destructives are worse off with this moron as a mayor. Cici tilts his head as he asks, “Is the command going to support his decision to reinforce Destructive to carry their aids out in public at all times?” Fairen turns his head to the designer and sees how the darker sapphire eyes narrow at him. 

If Cici’s roommates are Destructives then it’s not a surprise that Cici would ask such a question. “I sure as hell won’t support him. Most of the heroes and vigilantes refuse to support him so don’t worry, we’ll be on the Destructives side this time around.” That should reassure Cici but it makes his gut twist uneasily as he thinks about the harm that his roommates can face if the law is passed while the 65% of the population in the city loudly argue against it. So if the law passes, there will be mayhem. Probably more riots like there were back in his father’s day. 

The crowd starts to trickle back in, the kids giggle as they race to their seats and Cici is jostled out of his mind when he sees the woman return with too many treats that Fairen stares with wide eyes. “I got hungry just staring.” Luna explains as she sits in her seat and clutches her food to her chest. She already hands several candy boxes to Fairen to eat and as the lights start to dim, Fairen looks at the collection given to him. There were blue raspberry gummies, cherry gum, mint tic tacs, and some watermelon-flavored lollipops. Fairen looked over at Cici and slowly slid the blueberry raspberry gummies over to Cici as the MC returned to the stage to announce the next act and what it entailed. 

Cici looked at the offered candy and uneasily took the candy. It was his favorite. Was this Fairen trying to apologize to him about what happened earlier at the garden or was he trying to bribe Cici not to say anything about the dark-haired woman being Lady Moon? He doesn’t care, he just wants to see Aphrodite perform. He hopes she’s next up soon. “Now for our first opening for act two, I present Carson Bellvue with his piano piece, “Creme Brulee Covered Stars” with additional bassist Robin Berrythorn!” The audience applauded and as the two musicians took to the stage, the room was full of soft thumps of piano pieces and a heavy tone of the bass drumming into the audience as the music played with no voice to sing along with the music. 

Act two was very much a more classical and more elegant take on the moon hero and her work. Each musician played a song of their creation to emulate what they think Lady Moon is as a character and what she embodies with her work; some are slow and classical, others are fast paced and dramatic, and some are just simple and to the point. It was interesting because one song could lure you into a deep slumber but then the next piece would be dramatic with such a clash of music choices that it jolts you from a slumber-like state in the audience. If Cici looked around, he’s sure that there are kids who have fallen asleep to the music of act two. And then, a familiar name is called to the stage after another performance, “Now I present to you, Maxim, with his piece, “Carol of Moon and Stars” inspired specifically by Lady Moon and her partner in work, Stardust!”

Lady Moon has a strange relationship with Stardust, a recent vigilante in a pair of three who can create illusions of stars that can implode like a black hole ceasing to exist. They are tall and terrifying as they take on bird-like qualities- a harpy hero if you will. Some theorize that Lady Moon and Stardust are siblings long separated, some say they are the same person, and others simply adore the both of them. And Maxim is one of those people who appreciate both of them. This event was named the “Festival of the Stars”- while many could say that it’s associated with Lady Moon, others can add that Stardust deserves just as much praise. 

Cici sits up a little straighter as Maxim comes on stage, his outfit is regal and refined to perfection. He wears a partial golden mask as his violin of gold carries a tune with the bow bending the strings to curve and with his fingers delicately pressing on each string to change the note as he sweeps over the stage with his cape flowing with every step. He tips his body like a swaying glass ready to topple and shatter but his footwork keeps him from tripping and as the violin increases in tone, so does the crowd’s hearts as they begin to be molded by the music of the violin pulling and culling the minds of the listeners to feel the dedication to the strings of an instrument that sings praises to the moon and her stars. 

Cici gulps as his heart soars with the higher notes, and when the music drops for a string, his body clashes into the velvet seat. Maxim is good, really good at pulling at everyone’s heartstrings. Cici wonders if Coco was in the crowd and watching with awe-filled eyes as her boyfriend sings his heart out not with his voice, but with his body and the taunt of strings attached to an oddly-shaped wood instrument. Soon, the crescendo silences the room with the bow zipping off to the side of the man as he finished with a snap of the strings- letting the audience take in the world of the violinist and his story of the stars with the moon resting over the world with a soft slumber brushing over every head of the audience. 

The room erupts with clapping and Cici sees Coco on the far side of the first row with her hands clapping happily and looking at her boyfriend with such love in her eyes. It makes Cici feel empty in his gut as he watches the violinist bow and his head was turned to be looking specifically at the girl who looks at him with such love in her eyes. Cici had that love in his eyes with Fairen on his side, he used to look at the man with such adoration because the silver hero would come to Cici with flowers and love through kisses and hugs that would utterly melt his heart because he believed that Fairen would cherish him as much as he cherished the hero. He cared about him so much, he prioritized the home of the hero more than his studies, he cared more about how the silver man would react to the dishes he so horribly burnt at his attempts to make tacos. 

There was a time that Cici would look at his ex with that same love in his eyes. But now, it’s rotten and furled into a corpse of dried and decayed milkweed flowers. As Maxim left the stage, the on-set crew started to push out a familiar harp with a stool made for sitting, the MC came onto the stage and with his voice dripping into a slow and luring pitch, he announced the next musician. Someone that Cici has been waiting for. The announcer gave a quick introduction to the harpist to perform and the backdrop of the stage turned into a twilight setting, where the crescent moon rose while the sun started it's trek to the other side of the world. The MC stepped off stage as the lights in the room dimmed to turn into soft pinks and shades of navy blue blending together to form an array of purples and lavenders, the room fell into a hush as the musician stepped on stage. 

The room watched as the woman of purple hair stepped onto the stage; her mauve base drifted over the floor as the split in the opening of the dress fell open to reveal the embroidery of the moth; a rich violet outline with forewings decorated in beads of pearls and stitched with sky blue thread to form a diamond pattern on the wings while carefully going over the stitches with white and cherry blossom pink. 

As Aphrodite took her seat on the stool. She shifted her legs together to properly sit in such a massive dress, and in her position, she was able to expand the wings of the moth open, letting more of the sparkle of rhinestones and pearls glimmer and blind in the iris lights. Aphrodite raised her hands and looked over the audience, her heart in her throat but her mind already urging her fingers to pluck the strings. She was not wearing the colors of the blue and dark sky, she did not make her song for the moon originally but now she had to perform for the moon. In some way, her heart hatefully asked to make a new song full of hate and hurt, to make the moon feel the pain she was put through as a child when she was told that she would never be a hero like her and this was a time that she could make the show about her. To show her grief. But she feels her morals sway her mind as her fingers pluck the beginning notes of her song and soon, she is playing her song with the tones. 

The song is weaving threads, it passes and curls between her fingers as the tips pluck the strings to echo a sound to pitched it tickles the brain. The audience is pulled from their high of pop and bass-boosting sounds to a world of slumbering nights, they all see the twilight sky dance over their eyes with the periwinkle lights nary an ich from moving but they seem to dance around the harpist as if they were dancers to her song. Their movements mimic that of a moth dancing for its life and life-long beloved. 

The wings flutter and shy away, bending and breathing the night air into the lungs of the watchers that follow every twitch of the harpist’s hands but they cannot look away from her hypnotizing dance of wings that flutter from her hair and harp strings whip from their wooden coffin and snap into a cloudless shape that starts to cover the ceiling when the colors of peach red and tyrian purple start to melt from the top and drip onto the audience. 

The sky projected by a photo is illuminated with the softest of glows as the lowest pitches of strings ring through the hall, echoing a soft tune that can pull anyone away from reality. The woman’s soft touch against the coil strings force the image behind her to melt and seep into the ground, running around the grains of wood and steel pipes like snakes wrapping around prey- but rather than constrict to kill, it wraps around every member of the audience like a warm blanket on a frozen night. 

The room is no longer an atrium observing a woman play her instrument, they are dreaming of a land of star-kissed skies and clouds that curl over them like flowers sheltering the bugs from the onslaught of hail. The moon that rose in the sky now sits back like a cradle for an infant to come. It rocks back and forth, following every pluck of a higher note played on the harp that molds into the floor but flutters to life with the wings of the angel springing out of its wooden case. 

The twilight night shifts its tones to the tune that bounces to the highest sky, the organes melt into darkening ruby as the brightest pinks turn to the darkest of violaceous with the moon’s perly-white safe pushing against the pitchest black of the night sky that dares to swallow the cradle whole. But the harp strings pull the moon to the audience, pulling it to usher underneath the feet and soon cradle the back of all the audience members like a towering mother who dotes on her many babies in her arms. Her arms are the glowing shape curled to her face which reflects the darkness on the other side of the moon. 

The royal blue sky hushes the audience as they struggle not to fall for the luring trap of the harp. It is a moment of pink amaranthine orchids. Sweet and full of delightful nectar that entices the taste buds to chase with haste. It was like the harp was giggling. It was a sound that teased the ears of all those who listened to it. 

The hands molded of soft silk and warm coals brush the last of her song to finally snap the world back to reality with her wings of moth fuzziness snapping shut to her dress as her body weaves the strings of cloudless shapes back to their original position while the angel on the wooden case starts to crack like a fire but hum like a morning tune. The world turns from a fuzzy wonderland of dreams and blissful indulgence to a stage where a musician tickles the last of her strings to echo a hum that resonates with the world of desires and chasing dreams. 

Aphrodite pulls her hands from the instrument and turns to the audience, seeing the world of silence follow the nearly invisible hum. The audience takes a moment to see that the woman who sits on her stool is watching them like an enchantress who willed the world to fall into the palm of her hands with a siren-silk song of sweet delights and achieving dreamy goals. Someone from the back stands and starts to clap. Then a family stands to clap. 

Soon, the walls thum like rolling thunder by the praise and audacity the audience holds as they clap against their redding palms, on the chairs, and the walls. Some stamp their feet to echo their praise to the woman of purple ombre hair. From the fifth row back, Sal is clapping his hands with a tilt while smiling too wide for himself to stop. Sun has her hands clutched to her chest as her breath returns to her lungs where the song had swooned her to stop breathing with the melting colors luring her to a state of perfect tranquility. Meanwhile, Radley was whistling louder than any man who may try to suitor Aphrodite after her performance, he proudly beats his hands to his chest and thighs to echo the pride he feels for his sister. 

And in the second row, the moon hero stares with wide eyes and awe in her soul. Never had she felt something so vivid rock her core. 

On her right, Cici claps the fastest while whistling in awe for the woman as his roommate stands to fully display the dress that has done more than just lure him into a world of moth-shaped clouds and dreams that his childhood had forgotten like the monster in the closet. He smiles the widest as Aphrodite takes a courtesy bow and lets her dress take the cake as more people cheer at seeing her motif of moths within her dress. 

Aphrodite was breathless, her heart thundered in her ribs and while she felt like she could faint, she knew that her legs were too sturdy to try and wiggle. Her hands buzz from the long strokes of strings but she hears the room shake and quiver as the people call and praise her piece that is surely one to be remembered by the audience this night. Even if Lady Moon wasn’t in the audience, she felt… happy. 

She was happy for herself.

As she rose from her bow, the lights that blinded her face were suddenly cut. She backs up with stars dotting her eyes, her back hitting the stool as she blinks rapidly to push back the slight headache that surges forward. The flashes and dots dance as she blindly grasps the thin air, her hands swinging around until her left hits someone’s arm. “Oh-” She starts, feeling her heart settle for a moment but then feels more hands grab her shoulders while the pair she bumped into grabs her hand and yanks her harshly. She wants to ask them to be careful, she’s blinded by the lights and her heart was racing at the performance of a lifetime . She wasn’t aware of what was happening. But the tighter the grip got on her limbs, the more unsettled she felt as she was forcibly shoved forward. 

Something in her stomach says that this is wrong. 

This isn’t right.  

Aphrodite squints to see the darkness in front of her lighten up to a person she knows that she didn’t see before the show. They are gesturing to the people who are shoving her forward while keeping a tight trip on her limbs and she’s more than likely sure that they are going to bruise. Aphrodite turns her head to the spot she was sitting and sees someone racing across the stage with no one following them, giving a clearer picture that something wasn’t right. That’s when she realizes that her vision is clearing up and she can see that the people who have her are not a part of this show. 

Something was wrong. And whether she wanted to be a part of it or not, she is being cornered. 

The woman jolts her body to take the others off balance and stamps her left foot down on the person holding her shoulders while rearing her head back to slam the same person. Their grip loosened which made the person holding her wrists lose their grip; letting the purplette break free before someone else can grab her. She twists the opposite direction and starts to race towards the audience. Hoping that there was security at the bottom, letting her jump down safely and blend into the crowd. The thought of jumping into a crowd was scary but she knows that she’ll get covered and protected if she gets into the audience. 

Or maybe that Lunar Hero will show up right about now-

She felt something large wrap around her waist and before she could swing, something cupped her mouth and yanked her back, more hands grabbed her arms and started to drag her back. Her arms strain against the tight hold and her legs kick but the dress only tangles her legs, making the fabric her enemy too. The hand tightens over her mouth and she caught the small wind of a command from whoever is holding her arms, “Get the tape- get the tape-”

Oh hell to the fuck no.

As a lady, the woman of usual pink hair wouldn’t dare bite anyone. She hadn’t done that since she was child, and even then, she only bit Radley when he was being a little shite with rough-housing. All those ads and online shorts about how to self-defend yourself from being kidnapped ran blank, the only thing in her mind that seemed the most logical was to bite. So the woman tossed her head and wiggled until the group who had her had to stop for a moment to readjust their hold on her. Aphrodite needed that minute to roar her mouth open and bite down hard on the hand that had partially pulled away from her mouth. “Motherfucker-” a man hissed and before Aphrodite could lose her ability to scream for help, she huffed her chest and roared with a cymbal, “SOMEONE HELP! I’M BEING KIDNAPPED!”

She heard the crowd’s sudden confusion, the shouts of security and crackle of electricity start to vibrate the room as more people started to shout for answers and someone distantly called her name, so she cried out one last time before the darkness sealed her away, “CICI! RADLEY! SUN! SAL! HELP!”

Then she felt her voice constrict into pure silence.

__________________________

…

…

…

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She struggles around as she tries to get the blindfold off of her face while her hands are painfully yanked behind her back and whatever material is used to tie her wrists together begins to burn her as she struggles to get out of the captors’ grip. Her legs are unable to kick around to break free and she can’t find a way to wiggle out of the grasp of the people holding her arms in a tight bind. Her eyes are covered with a gag stuffed into her mouth, she swears that whatever gag they shoved into her mouth tastes like those stale sugar cookies that somehow have lost all their taste. 

She feels the people holding her move her and she feels her shoulder slam into a wall which she hisses and kicks back in retaliation. “Sorry-” one of her captors whispers in her ears before the other shoves her forward, Aphrodite has half a mind to go limp and let herself find a way out. She doesn’t know where she is, all she can recall is someone pulling a mask over her eyes; she was shoved forward to someone who gripped onto her shoulders like iron as someone pried her mouth open to shove the gag into her mouth. Her kicks and twists were fruitless as she was left to struggle against the people who dragged her away. 

There were twists and turns, stairs going up and down, and soon enough, she was shoved into a car where the captors told the driver to go and from there, she felt more twists and turns that made her nauseous. She could hear the outside world from the car, she knew that they were on the freeway with cars zooming past her, the captors had one hand each on her shoulders which cut off the blood circulation to her hands the longer she was pressed into the seat. Now, she was being led away to someplace she knows is in the middle of nowhere, she knows that she is miles from civilization and with her dress, there was no way she was going to escape unless she ran in the nude into the highway and flagged for help while fleeing from the captors who would most likely follow from behind until she’s either saved or recaptured. 

The captors’ grip loosens as she feels herself being spun around and then roughly shoved backward, her feet kick back to try and preserve herself from falling backwards, but the sudden feeling of two large hands shoving her down to sit with the hands holding her back as she feels the heavyweight of more restraints wrap around her middle and torso. “Are we sure she won’t kick one of us with her legs free? I rather not get kicked in the face,” someone said from a distance. Whoever was wrapping the binds around her grunts as they reply, “The dress is too massive for her to fight back. It’s fine.” Then there was silence as the hands disappeared, leaving her to be in the moment of her racing heart and her frantic mind that struggles to keep herself calm, to think logically. 

She tries to listen to her surroundings, to force her racing heart to slow down. She can’t hear anything beyond whispers from whoever has her tied up, no cars or noise from the city- meaning she was on the outskirts of the city and that meant she could be anywhere. Countryside, near the forest, or near the freeway that has that massive abandoned train station. She could be anywhere and that didn’t help her feel good at all. Her gut twists with that empty feeling after not eating for a few hours, her mouth feeling dry as the sock-tasting gag soaks up her saliva. If she moves, she feels the tightness of the restraints shift to get loose but the ones around her wrists are digging and hurting her from all around the wrist joint. 

“Well, might as well get started-” Aphrodite briefly wondered if her captors were one of those “anti-Destructive” people who hunt down Destructive and kill them to make it seem like an “accident”. There is a fear that every being fears; being taken and killed for the body to be left for nature to never be found. Or for the case to run cold. There are far too many times when she has read the papers or watched the news where a Destructive goes missing and is never found or never gets peace. She feels her heart worm into her throat and her hands grow clammy as she tries to wiggle for breathing room. 

If these are people who want to kill her, then they sure as hell put up a massive show to make themselves seem like the “good guys”. She wondered if the Heroes allowed the kidnapping of Destructives to happen because it “gave them a break” from dealing with them. She wonders if she’s going to be saved. 

“Let’s get this started, I want to get back at a reasonable time tonight and I believe the boss would love to see this lovely in her ranks.” The purple-haired woman feels a sweat break over her brow as she wrinkles her nose, ‘Rank? This can’t be the military… Is it a militia?’ The harpist wonders. Through the mask, everything is blurry and overlapped with too many layers of cloth for her to see properly, and faces of her captors were just as impossible for her to see. So when the lights of the room blinded her faster than glancing at the sun, she groaned with a hiss as she shut her eyes off and turned her head away to let her eyes recover from the bright lights. 

“Sorry about that. Should’ve taken the mask off more slowly.” Someone admits, his voice deep and grumbling. “It’s fine, Red. Just guard the doors so Bells and I can do our job,” another replied, their voice was much more smooth- almost luring. Aphrodite blinks her eyes repeatedly to push the stars in her eyes out of her vision, she shakes her head with the throbbing of sudden light exposure hammers into her brain. “This should help,” the silky voice tuts as the lights suddenly lower in brightness which Aphrodite tries to thank but the gag in her mouth only makes it muffled. 

After a few more seconds to let her vision adjust, she thought her heart finally bursted when she found herself facing two very different people from the show. One on the left was a woman with two red buns, her outfit was a white blouse with a red blazer over her shoulders as she wore glasses that were most like fake as she tugged a pair of white glovers over her hands with her ruby eyes narrowing at the woman with a calculating gaze, as if she was sizing her up for something to come. The one on the right was a man wearing a long robe-like dress that reminded Aphrodite of a kimono from the Japanese-Shinto era, he wore his brownie-brown hair into a bun with a bun-needle spiked through the hair, he held the mask that was soon tossed off to the side as he leaned back with his massive bell sleeves crossing over his chest. 

“Most sincerest apologies dear Aphrodite, we didn’t want to kidnap you before your performance. We were honestly curious about what you were going to play. Must say- 10 out of 10 musical composition and delivery. Everyone was moved.” The man of brown-and-white locks commented snarky. The woman with red hair hums as she replies with a pitch in her tone- an honest tone, “It was… a remarkable show to see. Shame the hero wasn’t there for the performance. A pity, really.” The woman started to walk around, her heels clicking against the concrete ground as she started to circle around. The sharp clicks of the heels echoed around the warehouse-like space. Aphrodite kept her eyes on the woman, ready to protect herself to the best of her abilities if the woman decided to strike. 

“You must understand…” The red woman began, her voice slow and steady as she circled around two more times before continuing, “We meant no harm to you. But we know that you would’ve called for help if we tried to confront you after the show. Or you would’ve ran off to your home if we didn’t reach you first. And you wouldn’t want us to kidnap you in the middle of the night, would you?” Aphrodite grunts, but not in agreement. Radley would’ve noticed if someone broke into the apartment and surely, she would’ve been knocked out drunk with Cici on the sofa or bed if they tried to kidnap her that night. There was no way none of these idiots would have taken her this night after the show. 

“I know you’re wondering, ‘why am I here?’, ‘What did I do to you?’, and more importantly,” the lady stands before the harpist and leans down, her ruby-chapped lips whispering in the other’s ear, “What do you need from me?” The male smiles a wicked smile, like a spider catching a bug in its web. “Everything will be explained in time, Ms. Paradise. So please, relax as we tell you of a beautiful place that can protect you better than the mockery of heroes that claim to protect the precious world.” The man offered. His voice lured like a siren with his tongue acting like it was made of silver. 

Aphrodite sharply turns her head away from the red woman to glare at the man. “Now, now- don’t give us that look! We truly want to extend our best services to you,” the man raised a hand to his chest as his smile tilted with intentions that sent a shiver down Aphrodite’s back. 

She’s heard of organizations that claim what they say. The most common one that everyone hears or gathers rumors by word of mouth about is the Clan of Darkness. And guessing from how the room is more random than a space that shows intention of murder, the musician can imagine that her captors are either part of the Clan of Darkness or morons who have a bigger ego than the mayor of the city. Red (the woman with the red blazer) swiftly turns to grab something from a table beyond the lights that cloak the back of the room from Aphrodite’s sight. “Ms. Paradise, if you will amuse me for a moment,” the man in purple robes walks forward and slowly trails a hand over the shoulder of the musician as he steps behind her. 

“Can you imagine a world where Destructives are welcomed and loved? Where you can walk down a street without needing to have your aid on hand 24/7? Can you see a vision where everyone is equal and respected?” Aphrodite moves her shoulder away from the hand but his hands settle on both shoulders, forcing her to sit still as Red returns from the darkness. “You have seen how the world treats the people, individuals like you, Destructives- who are treated less than equal and claimed to be more dangerous than the heroes’ destructive habits.” Red held a tablet up as a video was already pulled up to show the victim what was about to play. “You remember this, no?” Red asked as she titled the screen. 

Aphrodite didn’t need to see a refresher of her memories to see the dirtbag who swiped her drink at her and ruined her dress on Valentine’s Day. She watched from a different person’s point of view as Aphrodite breaks into tears and the people around her surround to form a wall around the musician and her roommate who looks very uncomfortable. The musician blinks at the woman as she takes the tablet away then shows a different video, one that Aphrodite felt her stomach twist to curl away. She clamped her eyes shut to keep the image of the woman’s face out of her mind. 

About eight years ago, there was a woman who was a Destructive that was taken into an alleyway and beaten to a bloody pulp before being taken to a deserted construction site and left to die. She survived. But there was irreversible damage to her face, body, and worse- her power wasn’t even considered a “Destructive power” according to the law. The law and test are two very different jurisdictions that care little for the victim and the class of people, they care more about where the money of a case goes. The test gets more funding to expand the facilities to other parts of the country while the law takes that money to pay off the victim so they don’t press charges against the government or facility that runs the test. 

The woman was left riddled in a wheelchair when her power revolved around her moving her body. So when she was left paralyzed from torso down, she was left to die in a mental sense. Her family pushed the police to arrest the offenders and when they were arrested and charged, they had such a good lawyer that a settlement was reached and that money barely did anything for the family or the victim. 

The woman, who was a student at a law school only at 24 years old, took her own life by overdosing on her medication to help her sleep after the attack. 

That beaten face haunted Aphrodite and all women of the Destructive class were afraid to leave their homes for months on end. Social media went into an uproar as usual and yet, no matter how many times the people called and shouted for there to be justice for the family- there was radio silence by the Heroes Command. Rumor has it, a hero was in the area where the woman was being attacked and assaulted but didn’t come to her aid. She named the hero but the court censored the name for the Hero’s reputation. Aphrodite kept her eyes closed until a soft sigh escaped from the man’s lips, “Such a shame. She would’ve made an amazing lawyer.”

Red turned the tablet around and showed another picture but this time, of a mug shot of three different men that Aphrodite knows their team name. They were the “Roughouse Bandits”; three Destructives who robbed four different banks that sponsored the Heroes Command and they never harmed anyone. They just threatened with fake guns and took no hostages, they only scared the workers off into a corner then took the money to give to charities who dealt with the homeless Destrucitves on the poor side of the city and yet, they were found guilty and imprisoned for life. No chance of parole because they wanted to help their community when the city failed. 

“They were recently found dead in their cells. No names, no word to their families. No one knows that they died this morning. Not wanting to “ruin the festival” for the moon hero who didn’t even show up to the festival dedicated to her.” Red mocked as she took the tablet away to place it off to the side. Aphrodite shoots her head up- there was no way. The news would have reported it! The Heroes Command should’ve said something-

But would they really?

The man hummed in agreement as he rounded in front Aphrodite, his hands cupping her chin to make eye contact, “Can you imagine that world? That place of safety for you and your loved ones?” His cat-like eyes narrow as his hands caress the side of Aphrodite’s face which she flinched at. 

“There is a reason why we had to stage a kidnapping for you, my dear. Let us see the news live, yes?” The man offered. The tablet was retrieved again and this time, a live newscast is showing a reporter with the atrium behind her. The volume is switched on and the reporter cuts into the echoing warehouse like a knife cutting butter, “-With the musician still missing, the police and head of the Heroes Command have declared the Festival of Stars to be cancelled until the musician is safely returned. Although, speculation states that because the musician is a Destructive, this is a ploy to bring attention to the community and their struggles against the Heroes Command.”

Sure. Blame everything on the Destructives. 

The tablet’s volume is cut as Red tuts, “They always blame the minority of the city because you carry power that can actually change the world for the better. But in the eyes of the law, the facilities that make aids and tests, and even the Heroes agree that it's better to blame a Destructive rather than agree that the system is so far flawed, that evolution to a better future is a dream untouched by the mortal mind.” A rather poetic way of saying that the city is screwed, Aphrodite thinks. 

“Do you think that it’s fair for someone like you to be blamed for something that we did? No. It’s not fair. In fact, the Heroes Command are more concerned about getting everyone to safety rather than searching for you. That is what we live in. Don’t you agree?” Red asked as she pulled a chair out from behind a light and dragged it painfully across the stone floor. She sat with her leg crossing over her hands resting in her lap perfectly. She tilts her head as she asks, “Do you think after all of this- you can be safe?”

Aphrodite already knows the answer. 

If these people really are a part of the Clan of Darkness, then she knows that everything around her will endanger her reputation because they are not on the side of the heroes. The Clan of Darkness follows after a prominent villain, the Enchantress, a woman who wears her curved horns like a crown with her face molded into a face of fury. Some people say her face is to represent the silent fury that Destructives feel everyday when they are forced to adapt to a world that was not made for them. Aphrodite has accepted this from when she moved to the city and shut herself from her parents who pushed her to the limits, and even when she experienced the worst event of her life- her parents were not there to love and support her. 

The musician knows that Red has her in a spot that she can’t argue. Aphrodite has experienced first hand how the world views her and her power when her aid is shown. She’s sure that most people didn’t even know that she was a Destructive until now. And more than likely, her roommates are trying to tell anyone and everyone that she was a victim and needed to be found. She was lost and missing, not a hero who most likely didn’t even show up to a festival dedicated to her. 

The man behind Aphrodite passes by Red as he goes behind the lights to fetch something. “... What do you know about the Clan of Darkness?” Red inquires as she leans forward. Besides the group being led by a Destructive who knows more about the city’s inner-workings than anyone she knows- there is not much the general public knows about the woman and her group. Aphrodite has read the articles about statements that the Enchantress has stated either to the reporters if they get cornered by her group or if it’s in the middle of a battle. One famous quote from her was: “Every Destructive in this city is a danger to themselves. Not to the city, not to the heroes, not even to the public but themselves . Because they are the only ones who know how to kill themselves while it takes a law and trial to send them to death!”

And the Enchantress isn’t wrong. Destructives have a higher rate of suicide among them, there are help lines and therapy that is provided to Destrcutives if they feel the weight of society starts to drown them in a sea of expectations and even if you have your head above water, there is someone else drowning and unable to keep their head above water. Which leaves you at a moment where you can either save that person or let them drown. That guilt placed on innocent people, kids even, is the harshest thing that people don’t understand. 

Aphrodite had gone through that before. She understands the pain of being treated less than a human being. 

But it’s not like she can voice it. She still has a gag on. 

The woman in the red blazer tilts her head then speaks as if she read the harpist’s mind, “You know that we can’t let that gag out. That is one of the few things stopping you from blasting our eardrums out, you understand.” The purple-dyed woman makes a show of rolling her eyes which seemed to have pissed off Red but got a chuckle from the purple-dress man, “She’s feisty. Enchantress would like that more in the ranks, right Velvet?” There was a shuffle behind Aphrodite which clued her in that her original captors are behind her, keeping an eye on her and the outside to make sure that no one accidentally wandered in and saw what was happening. “We need more support for the cause. Can we just cut this long interview short so we can get back? The heroes are starting to search on the outside limits.”

So there are heroes looking? How badly did Radley have to threaten someone to inform the heroes to start searching? Red hums as she turns to the harpist and says, “Our Master needs more help. Every Destructive we have under the sun cannot use their powers to their fullest extent. Aids or drugs have dampened them enough to become weaker to the world around them, even a full recovery with their powers isn’t enough for them to have an impact.” Aphrodite raises an eyebrow, where was she going with this?

The woman tilts her head in a different direction as she says, “Do you think you would get along with our Master? The Enchantress could always use another powerful Destructive on her side. While she appreciates her circle being of the “middle class”, she needs more powerful allies. Like yourself.” So that’s where this was going. This was some fucked up attempt with rushed interogations to get her to join a side that will sign her death warrant. There were rumors among the Destructives for those who chose to work with the Enchantress; some are hunted by the heroes, sentenced to prison for life, or maybe killed without the public’s knowledge. 

Aphrodite recalled one case several decades back, before she was born; an activist was shot in the head and survived. He was rumored to be in alliance with the Enchantress but according to many, many articles online- the activist inspired the Enchantress. He was one of the few people who could’ve been considered a “Destructive” but wasn’t because he had good ties with the Heroes Command that was willing to make negotiations until the incident when he was shot. There was belief that it was an attempt to kill him to suppress the class of people and it worked, some say that it was the Heroes Command who sent out the hit, others say it was the head of the Heroes. 

After the activist, there was less riots and activity for better life and thus, when the Enchantress came out of the woodworks with a powerful message and a better plan than what has been created for the last decade, Aphrodite isn’t going to deny that the woman’s hard work is going to benefit the world if she succeeds, but the musician knows the world better than an optimist. If Aphrodite joins the Enchantress, then she might as well kiss her world goodbye. 

She needed a plan. And a quick one at that. 

With the three kidnappers looking at her, eyes narrowed and waiting for her to speak, Aphrodite started to muffle, pausing and looking down, then slowly… nodded her head. 

Red smiled wickedly as she leaned back into the chair. “Good. Good. I’m glad to see that you’re more willing to see how the world can work in your favor.” Oh yes… Aphrodite can see it clearly. Velvet wrinkles his face as he says, “You’re not just agreeing so we can take your gag out, are you?” For a split moment, the harpist wondered if the power of the man was his ability to read her mind but with a quick glance at his outfit and prosthetic, it was more obvious that he was meant to be the muscle of the security while the only other kidnapper stayed behind her; probably keeping an eye on her so she doesn’t run if they untie her. The woman shakes her head and says something which is lost on the others. “Affo- take the gag out. Once we get to the main base, we’ll get everything sorted.” Red said as she waved at the other man, who seemed annoyed. 

Affo reached out and pulled the knot behind Aphrodite’s head loose which gave the covering away and the woman was able to finally spit out the gag. She coughed and curled into her seat as the raw air suddenly burned her dry mouth, the taste of cloth seared into her taste buds; she’s going to need something sweet to get rid of the taste. “Charles,” Red demands and soon, a large hand cups Aphrodite’s chin and a cold lip of a water bottle meets her lips. The first few sips made her body jerk and accidently, spilled water over her collar and chest. She coughs a few more times as she tries to let the leftover water hydrate her lips that have grown cracked and dry from the lack of soaking from her tongue. The water bottle lip is nudged which she takes and swallows the last of the water as she turns to the woman and her companions, “Feeling better?” Velvet asked. 

Aphrodite then spews the water at the three of them. 

“MOTHERFUCK-” Affo hissed as he fell back to cover his eyes as Velvet cursed in the same manner as Red fell back onto her chair which led her to fall backwards with the furniture. The woman clapped her feet to the ground and swung her body up, using the wooden chair to smack against the last standing kidnapper who was caught off-guard by the water spit. The wooden chair didn’t break right away but with one more smack to the man when he tried to defend himself was enough for the wood to snap and for the zip-ties around Aphrodite’s hands to wiggle enough for her to snap her hands out of their bind and to make a run for it. 

The dress did provide some difficulty due to the long strides of ruffles and layers, but that mattered very little in the moment, right now; Aphrodite was just running to find a way out of the warehouse and find help. 

She saw a pair of cracked-open silver rolling doors on the far end of the room and she gathered as much as she could hold in her gripping hands as she ran for it. Luckily, when she was taken; her heels were flung off, but that meant that if was surrounded by nothing but forest, then she was about to be in a lot of pain. Her lungs painfully woed as the corset around the woman’s waist starkly reminded her that she was running in a performing gown, not a dress meant for running. The doors were within reach and Aphrodite nearly stuttered out a breath of relief. 

She could reach outside and lose the kidnappers in the forest. Hell, if she gets far enough, she’ll strip out of the dress and run in her undergarments. If she runs into a gaggle of gang members, then that’s a different problem for a different time. Or if she runs onto the freeway, then she’ll take a car over being taken away from her home. She can’t risk them taking her away. Nor can she risk the Enchantress finding her roommates.

Cici was a minor power class; he was easy bait to be used in a hostage situation. Radley would be chained and abused, Sal would be forced to fight everyone at every command, and Sun would be forced to kill over and over because her power is meant to kill according to the word of the law. And Aphrodite wouldn’t wish that on anyone, not even her worst enemy. 

As the woman reaches the doors, she hears fast footsteps coming up so she slips through the doors and tries to run into the woods. But something large pins her to the ground. 

Feeling the rocks and pebbles dig into her skin makes her vision swim while she tries to push off whatever has her pinned. She’s able to spin in the little space she had to face her attacker and sees Velvet who slaps his normal hand over her mouth. His larger red-and-white striped prosthetic quickly swaps places with his normal hand as he holds the woman’s wrists above her head, his knees digging into her legs as she struggles to kick him. He looks pissed, understandably, but even she knew that he deserved it. They ruined one of the most important moments of her life. They deserve everything coming at them. 

Aphrodite continues to struggle, pulling and trying to yan her face away- knowing that biting will do nothing with a fake hand. The light from the warehouse expands as the doors are opened, illuminating her captor in a light that many women would associate about themselves about to lose a very moral part of them. It kicks the harpist’s fight-or-flight instinct into gear as she struggles more, her movements yielding little results as the hand over her wrists tighten and the man snarls, “Stop moving!”

A shadow casts over the duo and the other security comes over to help Velvet hold her back if she tries to flee again. They grabbed each of her arms and yanked her back to hold her on her knees so she didn’t try to swing her legs out. Affo came out looking mildly pissed while Red looked neutral. Her ruby eyes sizzled with fire but her face slack, there were still droplets of water falling from her hair as she left the space to face the woman. 

Aphrodite snarled at her, “If I even take a step near your bitch of a leader, then I will be hunted like a deer to a wolf. I will die.” Affo snorts, “The Enchantress is better than most of the heroes combined. Bold of you to say such a thing when you never met the woman. I’d say she’s better than Great Tree.” The musician scoffs and tugs uselessly on her arms to get the other two off but their grips only tighten and pull her back. Red blinks slowly with her face ticking into a frown as she takes a step closer. Despite Aphrodite’s dry throat, her chest heaved an angry puff of air as she wanted to do nothing more than kick this woman in the face. 

“Do you think that you could simply run back? After everything you went through? You should know better than anyone what will await you if you go back? After the drama, the pain, and after what happened at the hospital where you experienced something that no one deserves to experience-”

There was a soft “put” from the harpist as a wad of spit hits Red square in the face. All three kidnappers freeze as Red closed her eyes on impact and flinched slightly. The spit had splashed on her fake glasses and dribbled on her cheeks and tip of her nose. The purple-toned woman hisses with a mocking smile (despite her body starting to fail its shaking as she tries to push away the white backsplash of the hospital walls that have been ingrained into her memory), “ You don’t get to talk to me about what I’ve been through. Nor can that greedy mockery of a Destructive-” A resounding “smack” echoes louder than the sound of spit being sling-shot at someone. Aphrodite’s face is off to the side as she reels in the hit. 

Her cheek is warm, her body frozen in the moment, the words on her tongue dead as soon as the hit was delivered. She felt her body flush over as she reeled in the feeling of something spreading over her cheek to her neck, like shame swallowing her whole. “You will not disgrace my lover with such a tongue. Perhaps… It would be best if we took you along and showed you what you’re missing. Perhaps, your friends will join you as well.” The musician snaps her eyes open and swings her head to snap at her, to snap at the kidnappers that if they took one step towards her roommates-

But she received another hit to her face. Which seemed to flare up the previous hit even if it was on the different cheek. Velvet cut in, “If you hit her again, Mom will not be happy. She wants Paradise to join us willingly.” The other next to Aphrodite replies with a soft agreement, “And if those bruise…” And that seemed to get Red to stop her supposed onslaught. “You’re right… Yes, let’s just go home.”

“Home” was not home for Aphrodite. What they were calling home was a prison that she won’t get out of unless she uses her voice to call for help. But how fast can she call for help? As Red turned to Affo, she said as she walked away from the woman and her holders, “Gag her again too. I don't want that voice to break my ears.” The harpist opened her mouth to respond, to scream, but a large hand covers her mouth and then she’s on the move again. Back into the warehouse where Affo fetches a new gag and the woman kicks around with her dress acting more like cuffs for her legs than something for her to be free with. 

She was getting light-headed, her body feels heavy but she feels like she could fly. Her mind is anchored into the dark depths of her unconscious and she can’t fight back. The corset is tight, the frilled collar is becoming more like a shackle than a fashion piece, and her limbs feel heavy and tired. 

She wants to fight back but parts of her are slowing down, her body is woozy; she knows that she will faint soon if she doesn’t get out of here or gets some iron supplement into her body. She tries to pull, her mouth covered makes it hard for her to voice her complaints, even when she fights back with a little tug or wobbles, the captors don’t notice. They keep her upright and shove her around until the gag is nearly shoved into the back of her throat- which invigorates her fight more but at the cost that her vision starts to blacken out. 

She can’t- 

She cannot be falling now!

She needs to fight!

But sleep is so tempting… It’s better for it to happen.  

She will be another one of the missing women that everyone ignores because who would want to search for a Destructive? 

She can’t fight back. Her body aches. Her eyes are growing lazy, and her mind is loopy. 

Sleep… It…

Sleep seems nice…

“Hey- hey! Don’t go out now!” A grunted voice shakes her, making her mind semi-awake. “Shit- Bells!” Velvet shouts as he jostles Aphroidte’s arm to force her to stay awake. “Hey, hey- Ms. Paradise? Are- are you okay?” The other asks as they jostle her a little more. 

She’s tired. 

She…

Can…  ‘t

         The 

                   W   o  r   l    d

Starts…

T o 

F

    A

           L 

                                L

The world seems to blacken around the edges of her eyes as her body simply lets herself “turn off”. Radley used to tell her that she was an android who was told to “power off” because when the woman tried to fight back the sleep of a fainting spell, and he wasn’t wrong. If she went out, she was out like a light until something or someone woke her up. One of her captors (Velvet, she thinks) catches her upright and helps her hold steady as he curses under his breath, “Shite- why did you- stand up!” He snaps but the blackening vision makes Aphrodite babble something while struggling to shake off the sleepiness from her mind as it struggles to stay conscious. 

Her other holder, someone she didn’t get a name from, mumbles softly, “Doesn’t the file say something about her with low iron? She could be having an episode or something.” If the harpist was more conscious, then she would be able to have more interest piqued when her “file” is mentioned but for now, she bites back the desire to let herself fall onto the concrete floor. “Oh for the love of- why did the Enchantress want this one if she’s gonna faint every time something happens.” Affo grumbled as he stepped forward and lifted her chin up to look at him. 

The other’s eyes are silver with a hint of milk white gleaming in the dim lighting, he tilts the woman’s face around and narrows as her eyelids droop for a moment. “Do we have something for her to eat or give so she doesn’t faint on the way to the base?” He turns to Red who turns with the tablet in hand. “Not really. Let her fall unconscious, it’ll be easier for us to handle when she’s out.” Well, that’s not nice. 

Velvet and Affo scoff as the other captor chuckles, “Well, you did spit water in her face.” Oh- she said that out loud. She supposed she was still aware enough to speak coherently. “Put this over her head and let’s go. The boss is waiting for us.” Aphrodite weakly struggles to push back but thanks to her lack of strength, she’s shoved forward and she sees a dark mark about to cover her face- to most likely hide their location from her eyes until she wins their trust. The woman shakes her head as she bites back, “No- no- my friends- they’ll be worried,” maybe she shouldn’t mention her friends for their safety but she doesn’t want to leave. 

She can’t. She’ll die if she goes with them. 

“Yes dear, we know. But sorry, you’re coming with us whether you like it or not.” Affo shrugs as he steps forward to put the mask over her face. The woman struggles by ducking her head, kicking back, or just wiggling around to get away which seemed to annoy the rest as they still kept a grip on her but their patience was being tested. “Hold her still-” Affo snaps at the holders who readjust their grip. Aphrodite makes a point for herself for pissing them off, that seems to be a great trait of herself. She closes her eyes and lets the body slump, she soothes her muscles to relax and lets her head roll- perfectly letting her body rest for a moment. Affo clicks his tongue as he tosses his hands in the air in annoyance, “Nevermind! She’s out.”

The two holding her slowly adjust her to lean on someone’s shoulder as they slowly escort her away. She tries to creak her eyes open, to see if she can loosen her hold or wait until someone backs down enough for her to run. The two handlers pause as they wait for something- a van probably. “How will we fit her inside with the dress? Don’t get me wrong, I love it and I don’t want it ruined…” The unknown captor asks Velvet. Aphrodite shifts a bit, trying to slowly move herself to stabilize her body even if it felt like she was on the edge of sleep. (She was grateful that whoever was being gentle with her was concerned about her dress and was being so polite to offer to help her get adjusted into the van.

Velvet grunts as he adjusts the woman to lean on the other, “I’ll find something to wrap around her- just give me a minute.” Then the room was quiet. She should run, right? She should flee or at least let herself start to slip from the other and make it seem like she’s about to fall and then shoot back up and run. That’s it!

Just let yourself fall, just let your body slip and then push up and run. Run as fast as you can. Run. Run. Run. Run! Run!

Despite all efforts for her body to move, she felt paralyzed. Her mind was screaming at her urging her limbs to move, to let her eyes open to see the world around her, to move- to do anything!

But everything is weighted. Her arms are still tied and her body is slumped, she can’t move. Why can’t she move?! There are horror movies where the protagonist is possessed or something and can’t move because they’re trapped. She’s watched too many movies where the main character is trapped in a position that is most vulnerable, she honestly can feel anything but fear; what if these people decide to end her life? What if they try to take advantage of her-? That thought makes her chest heave an ugly puff of dry air as the person handling her readjusts their hold to hold her upright as her hands grow clammy. “Okay- found some more zip ties. Give me her wrists and we’ll try to tie the dress to her legs,” someone says (must be Affo). 

Her wrists are bound and she tries to kick back, use this moment to hit back- 

But her body is immobile. Panic settles into her bones and soul-

She’s not going home , is she?

As the others start to shuffle and twist the fabric around her legs with the sound of the zip ties zipping around  her ankles, the panic spikes as the woman feels her head being readjusted to rest on a shoulder while her hair is pulled behind her back to move out of the way. “All done. Now get her in the van and we’ll- …” Velvet stops talking and the room turns silent. Through the panic, the woman strains her hearing to hopefully hear someone or something that would lead her to believing that someone was nearby. The longer she listens with the other men, the less she hears; she hears nothing and no one is speaking, whoever is holding her tightens their grip on her and she can feel the bruise ready to form on her arm. “What are you three doing?” Red asks- breaking the silence from wherever she was. 

“There’s something outside. I can’t understand what it is but it sounds like… horses?” Velvet supplies. Affo (in front of her) snorts, “Horses? We’re in the middle of a forest on the outskirts of the city- where the fuck would there be horses?” The other holding Aphrodite shifts and says, “It could be a herd of deer.” There’s a grunt, it seems Velvet disagrees. “No- it’s too heavy. There’s too much weight to the hooves. It’s a horse.” The room is silent once again. 

No one says anything for a while. Affo glances at Red, watching his eyes glance from every window to the doors, Charles’ ears twitch and swirl like he was trying to help identify where the horse was. The shaman isn’t sure why that's an issue- if it’s a wild animal, then there should be no issue, yet, the two muscles of security seem to think otherwise. Patience glances at him and he shrugs, this mission was more of a hassle; not as annoying as his last mission where he was attacked by some retired soldier trying to protect the damned sword holding two dragons- still, this mission was dragging on longer than it should have. 

“Let’s go,” He said and turned to the van to help Charles get the woman into the van. As the shaman turns around and heads for the van, he catches a whip of royal purple in the corner of his eyes, and as he turns to see what went past- he felt a heavy pressure hit his stomach and suddenly, he was weightless as he was flung across the room. The crash of his back hitting wooden crates left him groaning in pain as he reeled in what just happened. Red and Charles spun around with Patience to see someone they don’t recognize. 

They were tall and cloaked in a dark shade of purple armor. 

The knight stood tall with a veil of lavender and white floating behind them, clashing with the dark look they wore with the armor sharpened with edges that could cut anyone’s hand, a sword longer than their torso with purple amethyst embedded into the sword’s cool steel. The helmet was that of a demon skull, shades of gray embedded to mimic a skull while two elongated horns curled around the helmet like a bull while two pairs of smaller horn curled up like an demon horns- a very dramatic difference from their veil behind their helmet that seemed to mimic a veil of a wedding gown. 

The three kidnappers stared in horror as they have been caught but it didn’t take Red long before he was rushing forward with his candy cane-striped arm reaching out to claw the knight but the purple man of honor ducked and swung their sword up, ready to slice and cut the general in half. Prosthetic versus sword, clashing together as the two ducked and parried their attacks. Patience turned to Charles and ordered him to get Affo which the large werehound quickly dropped the unconscious target on the floor and rushed to Affo who weakly shifted to move around. 

Patience pulled her mirror from her back belt and started a chant, ready to aim for the knight to get them away before they alerted more to their location. ‘They must be a vigilante- that’s the only reason how-’ There was suddenly a tight pressure around her throat, forcing her to lose her grip on the mirror and her hands came up to pull the pressure off of her neck. She twisted and felt herself being lifted as she was tossed over someone’s shoulder and smacked onto the ground with a sudden force. Her gasped in pain as she felt the pressure release and she rolled onto her stomach to see her attacker, snarling as Aphrodite sat on the ground with her legs free from the zip ties, “You-” Patience growled as a few strands of her ruby hair fell over her face. 

The ruby eyes glanced to the knight behind Aphrodite slammed the general against a wall of wooden crates, then to her mirror sitting a few inches away from her and Aphrodite. Ruby red eyes met with ivy jades and both stared until both feet clapped against the ground to reach for the mirror. The second-in-command reached for the mirror but was slammed sideways by the woman in the massive dress, the woman’s hands reached up and grabbed a fistful of the purple hair and yanked down, pulling Aphrodite to her level as she raised her legs to kick the musician onto her side and spun on her feet to deliver another kick to knock the woman down.

Aphrodite grunts as she’s kicked away and despite her wrists tied together, she rolls like she was putting out a fire to sit upright and look around to find the woman in red. She sees the red blazer fly off as the woman grabs her mirror. The harpist jumps to her feet and starts to run at the woman with her shoulder angled to sideways tackle the lady which was successful but at the cost that the mirror came down and jammed itself to the side of her face with two hand-shaped bruises already forming. The red-haired woman grabs the back of Aphrodite’s hair and yanks it back, whispering into her ear, “Don’t do that again or else this will hurt a lot more-” And the ground meets her face. 

A pain bloom into her head as the concrete painfully cracks against her forehead and the pressure of her hair being pulled becomes a phantom sting as the body grows limp with her body slumping in agony. The harpist gags with the feeling of throwing up convulses her stomach to curl and Aphrodite gags as she curls her spine to shuffle into a tight ball to ease the growing pain in her head that seems to start to act more like a concussion. 

Aphrodite peeks her eyes open and she sees the red woman raising the mirror high above her head like a wand about to strike on the suit of armor that swings the sword faster as Velvet tries to parry but falls back on the defensive as he struggles to keep up with the attacks one by one. The harpist bites down on the gag in her mouth and swings her leg out then swings it at the legs of the red woman as her head throbbed in agony for the sudden movements. The leg makes contact with Patience’s knees which falters her chant and she kneels to the ground, but before she can recoup, the same pair of arms wrap around her throat and struggle to push her to the ground. The musician tries to sit on the woman to keep her still from getting up but the woman doesn’t have her arms tied so an elbow hit to the face is enough for her to gasp in agony and the red woman spins around to deliver another hit to the musician’s face. 

Enchantress was going to have to forgive her for this. Affo was right- this was more of a hassle than she’s ever dealt with.

Patience straddled the other’s waist as she grabbed the bound wrists to hold them above her head as her free hand collided with the other’s face. Her eyes inflamed with rage as she spun her head around to yell at Charles or Affo to help her subdue the vigilante. 

She was not expecting a hoof of a horse to greet her. 

Aphrodite watched in slow motion as a horse of black shadows arrived from thin air and swirled into form as Red spun around and received a horrible kick to her face, flinging her off and her body rolls across the room. The horse rears back as it shakes its head and neighs with wisps of dust floating off of its back, giving this image that the horse was made of dust particles. 

The knight looks over and draws the sword back to swing their feet around, their left delivering a side-kick to the middle of Red’s body, kicking him away and into the side of the van. The obsidian knight spins towards the horse that rears up and down, clapping its sharpened hooves into the ground as it prances around the curled figure of his target. The knight’s sword is sheathed as they race over and look at the bloody mess of the musician’s face. Blood and bruises cover her face with splatters of red drenching her collar with her dress ruffled and ruined beyond saving. 

‘All that hard work from Cici for nothing,’ they thought bitterly as they leaned down and hurriedly scooped up the purple-haired woman into a bridal style and sharply whistled three times at the shadow horse, they straddled on the bare back of the horse and kicked once, keeping their armored hand on the shoulders of the woman as the shadow neighed loudly before taking off faster than a bullet shot from a .22 Swift Winchester. 

Leaving behind dust and a group of angered members from the Clan of Darkness.

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The steady sway from the ride was enough to keep Aphrodite awake as she was carried away; past the trees, the light of the moon became hidden behind the array of clouds, and the cold armor pressed against her cheek cools her warm face. It jarred her out of falling asleep in the literal knight in shining armor’s arms, and with the horse-like creature running across the shadowed plains of the fields with trees flying past without a sight of the city nowhere on the horizon, the woman began to feel her body warm up uncomfortably. 

The wind blowing against her was helpful to cool her surface wounds but the internal workings started to burn as she tried to push down the sickly feeling of gagging. Somewhere along the way away from the warehouse, the gag in her mouth was taken out and let her inhale the crisp night air and as the horse continued to run, the knight’s cold armor was the only thing that was providing cooling for her warm body. 

But it wasn’t the overly-warm heat over her face from where the bruises were that was making her feel ill, it was the stark realization that everything in the past unknown hours had dawned on her. She had been kidnapped. She was held hostage with people from a supposedly infamous organization notorious for recruiting Destructives. She was attacked and beaten by one of the members because she tried to get free. And now, she was being held by a knight on a horse seemingly made of shadows. The warmth in her face went south, stirring her gut- now she really felt sick.

“Stop- stop the horse-!” She gasped with her head moving away from the cool metal chest, struggling to get off the lap of the knight and get herself off the shadow horse as it came to a stop; her body would’ve fallen to the ground if the dark metal-dressed man didn’t quickly grab her shoulders and help her down. He gave her enough time for her to step away and hit the ground with her knees as she curled over herself and opened her mouth to try and vomit nothing but saliva bile. She heaved dryly as her throat constricted, the warmth that coated her body shifted to travel back to her face where the bruises flared and her head pounded as her body tried to exhume contents that were non-existent.  

She felt warm, sick, cold, and everything at once; yet, her mind was replaying the same mantra in her mind that jostled her into full awareness; she was kidnapped . She was going to be taken away . She was going to be taken somewhere that she could not escape. She was going to be stolen away from a life she has grown to love. With people she loved. And even when she rejected the offer, she was still forced to walk to a path that would lead her to an early grave. 

But she beat the devil at her game and got away with the help of a knight who came in with a sword and started cutting. And the cherry on top, the bitch who slapped and held her down got a kick to the face by the horse that looked more like a nightmare than a majestic stallion. A strangled laugh escaped the chapped lips of the harpist as her body started to rock gently in disbelief as her brain replayed the moments of her rescue and assault over and over.  

She was kidnapped.  

Attempted to be recruited to an organization of horrible consequences. 

She got attacked for rejecting it.  

The festival was ruined and cancelled. Everyone hates her. Her roommates are in danger. She will become the martyr for the world to hate and abuse. She will be followed and stalked- she was going to be living in hell, wasn’t she? 

The awareness of her surroundings blend into an intelligible color as her laughs of strangled disbelief turned into sobs of fear and hurt. Her face was no longer pulsating, but it felt like her soul was dripping from her tears as they rolled down her cheeks, her arms throbbed with her wrists burning like she had been scratching at them for hours on end. Her body convulsed as her sobs grew more short and frantic, her chest heaving with her spine elevating like it was trying to claw out of the skin prison it was trapped in. Her hands were curling into her chest and the fingertips desperately tugged at the frilled collar on her throat while her head shook back and forth to push away the memories which were becoming core and forefront in her mind. 

She mumbles, nothing understandable, trails of saliva dribbled from her dry, yet salivating mouth. Her body is hot- this dress is making her feel stuck and trapped. She needs out. She wants to claw this dress apart until the cool air kisses her naked body or until she finds a pool of water close enough for her to drown in. She’s too warm. Too hot. Too open. This field of trees and moon-blocked sky is too open for her. She needs to get away. She needs to find a place to hide and never come out. 

Her hands to try and pry the corset off first- it was digging into her ribs and constricting her lungs tighter than swallowing the sea. Her fingers uselessly tug and struggle to break the corset free while her breathing ramps up to short huffs and pained inhales. She’s too open; she needs to wrap herself in darkness, she needs her heartbeat in her ears. She pries at the corset ribbon behind her back while the tails of the ribbon slip from her fingers- her frantic pulling at the corset alerts the knight to pull away from the horse (who snorts and rears its head back), they carefully come over and kneel to the lady in distress to help her undo the back of the corset. 

To feel the ribbons give away from her back, letting her chest swell like a balloon as she inhales her first gust of full air, letting the lungs expand and stutter in the air that it so desperately needed. The first inhales of air brought relief to her aching lungs and her limbs began to feel normal again, rather than earlier which were weighted and falling asleep due to the lack of oxygen in her blood flow. The knight unclicked his buckles from his hand gauntlet to get it off so his hand could rest on her back, the soft movement of his hand rubs a soft pattern up and down her spine as she dry heaves. 

The two sit on the forest floor; one heaving and the other comforting. The horse snorted softly as they pawed the ground, circling around the duo in a protective manner- it was like it was taking watch as its rider comforted the woman. The knight gently pulls the ombre purple hair from the front of the woman’s face and hissed softly at the blooming black and blues on the cheeks and neck. The kick that Nightmare delivered to the red-haired woman was well-deserved but he thinks he should’ve done some damage himself. Like punch her in the face. 

His gentleman nature wouldn’t dare lay a hand on a lady, but he would make an exception for this instance.

Nightmare snorts as he approaches the two, his muzzle lowers to touch the earth while inching closer to rub against the harpist’s down-turned face. The woman takes shaky inhales as she raises her head up, making a soft noise of surprise when the horse nuzzles her face gently and trying to carefully not irritate her swollen face. 

Aphrodite flinches as the muzzle presses against her face but she finds the rough face of the horse comforting in a way as it nuzzles her around the face (as if trying to avoid the bruises). As she looks closer, she sees the size of the horse; larger than Clydesdale horse, body huffing fumes of dust that halos around her her head while the bulk of their body blocks out the moon’s kiss from above, and when the beast raises its head, it released a cry that sounds so akin to a human scream- it scares Aphrodite to duck her head and curl into the body of the knight. 

The obsidian man doesn’t flinch but he does freeze when the lady of purple suddenly curls into his chest. He’s used to the human shrill of Nightmare’s call, he didn’t need to react or worry about the chilling scream, but the harpist is not used to this call. She hadn’t met Nightmare yet. The garnet knight  settles their arms around her, patting her back gently as the horse lowers itself back to the ground and snorts the fumes of ash from its nostrils. 

The purplette blinks slowly as she turns her head up to stare at the empty space between the eyesockets of her savor. Under the shadows of the blocked moonlight and the dust of dark swirls from the creature resembling a horse, the armored being seemed to portray himself as an imposing but gentle shadow. 

Her shoulders were gently taken and she was pushed upright, letting her body sit up and her face facing the helmet that whispers danger and warning to spill blood, but she finds it familiar. Distantly, she doesn’t feel fear. The un-armored hand comes up and gently rests on the woman’s cheek, cradling it tenderly so that he doesn’t accidentally flare her wounds. “Thank… you,” she whispers hoarsely as she presses into the hand, feeling the warmth of the palm ease her fleeting mind.

She utterly melts into the hold, uncaring if this person had other intentions with her or not. She gently nuzzles her cheek into the palm with the ache of her face eases softly into a numb sensation. The knight feels his heart swell in the moment; his other hand coming up to hold the woman’s face and tilt her head to bump gently against their helmet, their mind settled as he took in the sight of the harpist who was taken from a stage of nightly stars and moon-kissed lights. He blinked slowly as he inhaled a deep breath to release with ease; Radley would be pleased to know that Aphrodite is safe now… Everyone will be relieved. 

The dark knight pulled away from the women and hesitantly pulled his hands away from the bruising cheeks of the woman, his hands coming to sign as the sword on his hip thumped like a beating heart- reminding him that his power is constrained and he needs to lessen the reins of his use of his power if he wants to keep Nightmare around longer for the trip to the hospital. Aphrodite sits so still as the armor around the knight starts to gleam and glisten in the dark, like sparkles poofing from the air; the armor starts to vibrate before the physical pieces become untouchable, letting the woman see the outfit of her knight. 

The hands move efficiently- telling her to stay still so he could find the closest hospital, his face becoming visible after the helmet turns to glimmer with the veil falling around him like a halo settling behind him in a moment of holy light. The dreadlocks have come undone, letting his hair wave like fire crackling and his dark garnet eyes stare at the woman’s face, gauging her reaction as his armor revealed a friendly face beneath. He watched the ivy jades widen to shock with her body still going, Nightmare snorts- as if mocking the rider for the “slow reveal”. But it is quickly changed when the harpist suddenly flings her arms around the shoulders of her roommate and breaks into heretics. 

Her sobs shake his body as the tears stain his shoulders and his hands thread over her to offer support as she clings. Her savor was a friend who often offered to nap with her and helped her learn how to better her sign language skills. The purple woman clung to the man with her hands curling into his loose t-shirt that has become stained with her tears as she curls closer to the man as she desperately tries to pull him impossibly closer. Sal softly hums a mindless tune as he starts to pull the woman to the chest, letting the woman hear the thunderous heartbeat in his chest as he curls around her. 

From the moment that his name was yelled from a darkened stage, Sal felt this twist in his stomach as the lights flickered on and the harp was discarded- its owner missing with the crowd shouting and searching for the missing musician who cried wolf. One glance to Radley; he was out of the atrium and running faster than his legs could carry across the plaza, into the street, then taking shelter under the cloak of a darkened alleyway. He huffed as he leaned against the wall and focused his mind to think about the form of a horse; imaging the strong legs, the mighty chest that grounded his heart, and the snarling nostrils that signified its anger. And he felt his nose flare in anger. 

The man took to the street again as he raced home. Since he left the event, there was a steady thump of his hands as his mind envisioned the more complex system of a horse with the head rolling back and forth as he scaled the stairs of the apartment. He didn’t give the doors to the home or his room a moment before he broke them open to reach for a sword sharpened to slice anything and anyone in half. His hand rubbed the throat to feel the grooves and his thumb pressed against the rough cut on the bottom of the handle, a comfort he did often when he felt his anxiety flare in certain moments. The knight tossed the sword in his palm and moved out of the room, his eyes glancing towards Aphrodite’s room- where his heart seized and the urgency to reach the harpist became more pressing. 

The shadows slowly morph around the shadow of the sword, the tickle of the darkness eased the mute man’s mind slightly, but he felt more relieved when Nightmare appeared and reared up into the night sky. The horse made of shadows and dust was a long-time friend that has been with him for a long time; through the times when he learned of his “world-ending” ability, when he was subjected to a life-time of neglect from his family, to the prejudice he faced at every horse-training camp or ranch who offered “help” for Destructives who were interested in horses or horse racing. Nightmare has been through it all and now he needed the nightmare more than anything. 

The creature reared back and roared loudly as Sal jumped onto the bare back and kicked the horse into the darkness, letting the shadows cloak him and the horse as they searched through puddles, small lights, and dark spaces for the missing woman. 

Sal was lucky, honestly. He found the warehouse by complete accident and when he saw the woman seeming unconscious, he felt his blood boil- the urge to scream and slice through every person in the warehouse pounded in his skull but the knight is wise, he’s smarter than that. He waited until there was an opportunity to take the woman and get her away from whoever these people were. But when they started to tie her up, grabbing her dress and shoving her towards the van, he simply snapped . 

He doesn’t remember much; he typically doesn’t remember what happens after he lets his powers control him. The world preaches and harps on Destructives to learn how to control their power rather than let the power control them. Many assume that Destructives are dangerous partly because their powers are too powerful for them to control, hence, the use of aids to help them have a “better grasp” over their power. While it can help, it typically acts more like a target for the individual- a massing red bull’s eye for the person who walks on egg already with society. It fuels him with such rage seeing how to simply wrangle the musician with such disgrace, he lets Nightmare have a bit more fun than he usually lets him have. 

Whenever Nightmare is around, he has a better grip on the horse so that he doesn't snap or accidentally slice someone with those knife-like hooves. The knight slightly wishes that Nightmare had done more to the woman of red hair than just a kick to her face. But this was not the time nor place, all he needed to do was comfort the woman who seemed to finally realize that she was safe and no longer in danger of being stolen away from her safe place. “They- they were going to- to hurt- oh god!” Aphrodite hiccuped as she curled her body into the arms and bulk of the man. Like she was trying to cradle herself into the shadows of the man while her hands gripped onto him so tightly; her knuckles were white with strain and her face was buried into his collarbone. 

Sal takes his time to rock the woman, caging her in a protective manner while his legs curl around the room; effectively trapping her in his lap as Nightmare pressed his muzzle against the woman’s head, brushing the nose against the head in a comforting sense. The duo sit on the forest ground, simply holding one another and letting the moon finally press open through the curtain clouds. The moon gently shines over the forest ground, illuminating the shadow-made creature that seems to grow more aggressive the longer that Aphrodite hid her face in Sal’s body; he pawed the ground as he shook his head to get more attention. 

Sal snorts and sighs as he looked up at the horse, raising an eyebrow as he pulls one hand away to sign to the woman, “*NIGHTMARE WANTS P-A-T.” Aphrodite sniffled softly as she turned her head to shyly look at the horse who seemed so excited to nuzzle her face to dry her tears. To hear the laughter that peeled from the cracked lips; her laughter is soft and full of sunlight. It shines like a diamond discovered by a poor soul in need of hope. 

Her laughter softens the worry that ebbs into his gut and cracks his ribs with such force, the smile she holds gathers the love and joy together through her lips alone. Her eyes gleam as if she holds secrets of unknown; where the location for the Fountain of Youth, how to grow feathers from peeled oranges, how to mold time to the arch in your heel; she infects the creature of shadows and dark moonlight with such joy that her laughter and smile curves the crescent moon into a thinner shape as if it was the crease in her eyes. 

Nightmare seems to like her laughter, neighing and jumping up and down like a child tossing their favorite toy in the air to catch. She is contagious because Aphrodite’s laugh is binding, soul-attracting, and infectious with her eyes shining like precious emeralds being held in the limelight of the sun with reflections dancing across the vision of the beholder. 

Those eyes are precious, and Sal desires nothing more than to hold those eyes close, to keep those eyeshines to himself and let no one dare try to take those glittering beryl serpentine eyes. 

Nightmare snorts twice then raises his head, ears swirling around while the mass of his body starts to circle around the woman and his rider. The knight watched the horse paw the ground with his nostrils flaring in anger; signaling that someone was near and that they needed to leave. Aphrodite turned her head to the knight and the crease in her brow worried the man as he started to kneel; that brow turned from worry to surprise when the woman was lifted like a bride into Sal’s arms, her sudden giggles made her wrap her arms around the man’s shoulders and bury her face into his neck. 

He easily got back on the bare back of his horse who started a small trot before breaking into a full run. As the wind swished past her ears, she looked up to stare at the face of her hero who stays calm and when he looks down at her, he smiles with such comfort; she feels completely safe in his arms. Aphrodite feels her cheeks warm slightly pink and she curls her head on the shoulder of her hero, burying the side of her head into the chest of the man- listening to his heartbeat. 

Listening to the steady thump of his heart soothe her nerves and let her body relax in his hold.

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The highway was empty, surprisingly. Cars were missing, the night sky was decorated with the twilight blight of the sun starting to rise. Nightmare snorts and roars as they stomp across the cement with the knight holding the purple-haired woman close as they stretch over the breath of the freeway, seeing the ocean reflect in the lowering moonlight and the busy lights of the city start to brighten with the sun kissing the horizon. The horse has been racing with the sunlight barely gracing the hooves of dark metal on the hooves of the creature. The purple hair was carefully twisted into a simple bind over her shoulder. 

The knight let his hair flame around his head as the horse raced across the road. Sal kept his eye on the sky for any sign of a hero flying overhead while keeping his hands over the shoulders of the woman to keep her from falling off of the horse and still keeping an eye out for anything that could be harmful or potentially dangerous (such as a return from the people who kidnapped Aphrodite). 

As the horse got closer to the outskirts of the city where the limit of car speed would be reduced to 50 miles per hour as it starts to enter the main freeway into the city, so from here, the two have to get off of Nightmare so they don't draw attention to themselves. “What are we going to do now?” The harpist asks as she turns to the man who bows his head to the horse made of shadows and smokes. As the horse disperses back to the shadows, the Frenchman holds the harpist’s hands, and looks over the railing on the freeway, catching the sunrise as it slowly peaks from the high mountains and distant hill-tops. 

He raises his hands and signs, “*WE GO-TO POLICE. INFORM-THEM SITUATION AND AFTER, GO HOME.” Aphrodite nods and wraps her arm around his own and they start to walk off the freeway side to reach the city. Sal took the time to pull out a pack of tissues he didn’t even realize he had on hand until he patted the back of his pants to feel for his phone and took the small packet out to have to the woman to carefully clean her face from the dry blood or to wipe any blood that was leaking from her face. 

Radley would surely kill anyone who is aligned to the organization that kidnapped Aphrodite. Sal doesn't know how they are, he knows that they tried to take the harpist away and got several broken bones and bruises as a result for trying to take her away. If the man was the one who found the musician, then Sal and Cici would probably be cleaning up the floor of the blood and dismembered limbs as a result of Radley’s fury. 

As the street to the city came into sight, Aphrodite paused as she turned around. Prompting Sal to do the same, he turns to see what caught her attention- his hand going for his aid on his hip in a moment of steady stance; if those idiots tried to get her with him, then they were more concussed than he theorized. But when he turned, he saw nothing around but an empty freeway and the sun nearly fully out from behind the crescending hills and mountain tops. The man with purple flamed hair turns to the woman to ask her what was wrong, but then those ivy jades snapped to look at something behind Sal . Her mouth opened but Sal was quicker. 

The knight swings Aphrodite down to the floor as he rolls out of the way of the impact from a weapon hitting the spot just where the duo were standing. Aphrodite curls into a small ball to try and protect herself while Sal swings his sword from his hip and clicks the armor in place as he stands with his feet digging into the concrete road. A hero hovers over the railing with his horned mask covering his face while the flames around her head and burnt cloak flutter in the wind. Sal grunts as he raises his sword at the fire hero and aims it at the hero who yanks back his trident of flames and sparks before throwing it at the knight and rushing him with hands balled into fists to start throwing punches. 

Sal is lucky to duck the punches and to deflect the weapon but the hero is faster and swift as he sweeps the feet from under Sal and returns the trident to his hand to try and pin the knight to the road. Sal deflects with his sword making contact with the flaming weapon with a sharp clang and the flames spark against the cool sword with flickers of firelight popping against the grinding metal of both weapons. One forged from hell and dragon’s breath. The other was made by the hands of a blacksmith with millennias worth of experience. 

Fire Spirit continues the assault on the knight as he pushes the other on the defensive, which isn’t Sal’s strongest suit but the obsidian knight holds his ground for a few moments longer until the hero spun around to face Aphrodite which made the knight think the hero was about to attack the victim of the kidnapping situation but that seemed to be what the hero wanted as he rounded around the back of the knight and knocked him to his knees and then pinned him with the trident pressing dangerously close to Sal’s helmet if not for his sword holding the tri-fork’s tips away from penetrating his helmet. 

The flames of the hero are often rumors to be as hot as dragon’s fire, since the hero gained the power of flames by an old dragon from his younger days, and while the community of Destructives call the power that the hero carries a prime example of a hero being a “Destructive”, the higher-up’s simply reject such a motion and claim that Fire Spirit has powers that are similar to Destructives but the man himself was not a Destructive. 

The hero tries to press the trident’s tips closer as he hisses, “You are sooooooo going to pay for ruining this for her-” He hisses as his armored foot comes up and stomps on the chest of the knight as he tries to press the weapon closer. Sal grunts as he holds his own back against the man and he’s nearly successful in holding his own until an unfamiliar warmth starts to dust over his body and that’s when Sal curses to himself internally. 

The hero of fire can do more than just be a fireball of ego; he has the abilities to warm his body to be a third-degree burn-worthy warmth, he can make dragon shapes with his flames, and he can transfer the heat from his flames into the body of his enemy. Sal could feel his body start to break in a sweat as the foot on his chest started to press down harder which forced the man to struggle as he was unable to roll away or to surrender when the flame hero seemed so intent on burning him alive as if he was in an iron bull. 

Sal tries to push the trident from his face and roll away from the hero but the heat makes any other movement rather than holding his own against the hero impossible. The sun breaks over the railing and the Frenchman can see the flames on the back of the hero’s back flare with the sun on him- meaning that his power just got a little stronger with the sun. Sal feels his arms shake with the beads of sweat rolling down his forearms as his muscles start to give out, he can’t hold up against the hero forever- he needs a way out. “Just surrender ALREADY!” The hero roars as his body plumes into a bigger flame and Sal is sure that he’s in an oven of his own making. 

Just as he’s about to break the silence with the trident breaking into his skull-

A blur of purple washes over him and suddenly, the armor is cool and he’s able to swing the trident away from his face and he’s able to kick back to see Aphrodite cradling her foot in her hand while hopping on one foot. 

The flame hero was on the road, groaning in pain- he was in a great amount of pain. 

Aphrodite kicked him directly to his manhood which, apparently, wasn’t protected by his armor. 

As the man fell to his knees, the same blur of purple returned with a swift kick to the hero’s face and a sharp yelp of pain. If Sal wasn’t being baked alive, he would’ve hissed in sympathy, but not now. He turns to see the purplette nearly tumbling over and fumbles to help her balance as he sees her bare foot burned and blistering, Aphrodite is biting on her bottom lip as she flinches as every brush of her dress just grazing over her burned foot. The flame hero groans loudly and Aphrodite snarls, “He was saving me , you uptight egotistical prick!” Sal tugs at the woman’s arms to get her to step away from the hero before he gains his standing and tries to murder the both of them. The knight keeps his armor on as he pulls the woman closer to him while helping her balance herself on her newly burned foot. 

Silly of her to do but it was worth it to see a hero crumble. 

But as the knight turns to resummon Nightmare just so this whole fiasco can just end, an arrow of green meets his face. Aphrodite clings to the man as he stares at the arrow pointed at his face, her glare could be just as heated at the hero before them, and although Four-Leaf Clover holds an arrow to his face, he rolls his eyes. The harpist looks at the hero and jabs a thumb at the kneeling and groaning hero, “He attacked the man who saved my life. Where were you, fucker?” She snipped. 

Four-Leaf Clover raised an eyebrow as he looked over the musician’s face, a twinge of worry spread over his brows for a moment before reverting back to neutrality. In the distance, the sound of the police sirens and ambulances come rushing to their ears, Sal grunts when Aphrodite turns her head to look up at him- despite single-handedly folding a hero of arrogance, they both knew that they would not be leaving this situation unscathed or unseen. It makes their heads hurt just thinking about what will come after. 

Chapter Text

The phone buzzed again. Then again. And again. 

Dull ivy eyes glazed over as the phone on the nightstand buzzed with the monotone ring etching into her brain. Her arms are curled around her middle as her body lays in the fetal position, unwilling to move- because if she did, then she would be sacrificing her comfortable spot in her bed. She watches the device ring  two more times before it silences itself; another voicemail from a reporter to either drag her through the mud or to “pull her up by her bootstraps”. Just like the other 78 voicemails that sit in her phone as she stares into nothing. 

She dares not touch the phone. Every moment, every second, every breath she inhales- leaves her vulnerable for someone to call or to shoot a text message so vague or threatening- it scares her being to its core. She can’t even open her social media to browse through her inspirations or to post a simple photo of her latest work (as if she could even touch her harp. It sits in the corner of the room with damaged and untouched) without being bombarded by the floods of comments and dings of DM’s being overwhelmed as people on the other side of the phone demand that she answer to her crimes. 

“Her crimes”? Being a Destructive who got kidnapped. 

When the media got word about her, about her savior; everyone went into a frenzy to find out every part of her and Sal’s life; rummaging and pillaging their social media accounts, flagging and hunting down where they work, scavenging for data that would somehow give them to location of where they live . It was… horrifying. 

Aphrodite barely remembers what happened after she got home. Just six hours before, she was fighting and shouting with officers who pushed and snapped at her- demanding why she would pull this stunt at a festival for a hero, why would she fake her own kidnapping- demanding answers when she begged and sobbed for a lawyer. She had begged, pleaded, then outright refused to speak. The police hounded her like she was the criminal. The men in blue guarded the door, only letting other officers enter the room to try and break her story further from the truth. And they say, “the truth is never fudged” which means that you can tell the truth over and over with no variations and that’s how an investigator would know that a person is telling the truth. 

Apparently, these officers weren’t interested in listening to the truth as much as they wanted to arrest her. When her demands for a lawyer were continuously ignored, she asked for a parameda or at least, a first aid kit to tend to her wounds and the officers only got more aggressive with her. Her cheeks stung under her tears, she couldn’t touch her face without hissing in pain, and when she tried to curl away, to hide from the angry red and pouting faces of the police because she was afraid that they would hurt her- they got closer and started pointing at her to confess. 

But nothing was as bad as a hero entering the interrogation room and starting to threaten her. 

Aphrodite blinks slowly as she starts to move, her movements are not controlled by her- honestly, she doesn’t know how her body moves without her. She pulls her legs apart, her arms still wrapped tightly around her middle as her hair falls over her face, letting the ick of her oily hair remind her of how long it has been since she has washed her hair. She has been taking showers, and she tries to bring herself to wash the hair but, whenever she sees a glance of purple in her long locks, she freezes and sobs in the shower, forgetting that if she washes her hair, then all that purple could easily come out. 

Every flash of purple makes her think of the knight in obsidian armor, the man who gagged her with his long flowing robes, the heaviness of her dress as she struggled to flee from her captors. Every flash of purple made her head spin. 

She’s so tired…

She wants to rot away forever…

The musician crosses over to the vanity and doesn’t dare look at her reflection, she knows that in the mirror was a face of previously healing black and blues with a broken spirit trapped in her eyes. Her hair sticks out in odd tangles and angles with the curling ends dried and barely held together with her bigger sets of curls. Her room reflects on her wellbeing just as much as her reflection shows her emotion. The once fabulously pink and love-touched red and pink walls were now bare from the posters of harps and music sheets, books of music and extra harp strings lay abandoned across the ground with most strings being trashed or kicked under the bed. Speaking of her bed, it is more hassled with blankets and resembles more of a cave of her body forming the outer-layer; making a perfect hole for her to crawl into and sob away the night and day. 

She takes a hold of a sweater dress she had found in her closet, it’s a clementine orange with the two slits on the side of the sweater dress peeling back to reveal a light layer of orange underneath. It was the only clean thing she had in her room. Another thing she’s been avoiding and rotting away in her room, she’s too afraid to go outside. With how the buzz of the media demands for her address and her location, she’s afraid that taking one step outside will garner the world to come after her in demand for answers she will not give. It's her nightmares coming true. 

Right, the nightmares. She’s been having nightmares since the night after the whole incident. The nightmares are not tame; full of anguish and “what if” scenarios that make her jolt awake at one or three, sometimes in hourly intervals; every dream is full of darkness with her face pulsing as the laughter of the two main culprits evilly crackle around her. Then there are the dreams where she is pinned like a bug to a canvas; her dress is stripped away piece by piece, leaving her naked for unseen eyes to watch her as the shadows around her curl around every limb and strangling her neck. And then there are nightmares that she knows are from her childhood. 

Those nightmares are full of stars and a moon resting above her head while the hero herself stands before a younger self who stares up at the moon with tears in her eyes. Aphrodite sees herself reaching out for help, for support, for something that’ll make her feel better; but the hero only raises her key weapon up and brings it down with a force so mighty that Aphrodite jolts awake and cries apologies to an empty room. The moonlight is her only companion in these moments, the pale light tries to ease her tears but she hides away as if the moonlight would reveal where she was and the Moon Hero would actually come for her. Her roommates know that she hasn’t been sleeping properly for some time; it’s been a month and she still hasn’t acted like “her old self”. 

Not that any of them could blame her. Sal doesn’t, he still goes to work, and thankfully, doesn’t have to deal with the backlash that Aphrodite gets. He only got a reprimand from the green hero before he was taken to a hospital nearby to check for injuries but the pinkette? She got the worst of the worst from everyone outside the apartment. Four-Leaf Clover didn’t let her have a moment of relief in believing that he was in the police station to help her, she thought the hero would look at her face and get her out . But that wasn’t at all what happened. 

Sal was given a “pass” because he saved the victim but in the process of the media getting ahold of her power status and the hard-believers that Destructives (such as the mayor) called into question whether this kidnapping was legit or if it was a stunt… Aphrodite was left as a scapegoat for everyone’s frustration for the ending of the festival early. 

Everyone searched to find her; to find her work, to find every piece of her life from her digital footprint. And within her getting her phone back from the police after Four-Leaf Clover threatened her under his breath; her phone was full of messages from social media, phone calls, and scarily, texts to her personal number that somehow got leaked to the internet. The musician handed her phone to Radley to do something because she was too scared to even touch the screen as the other roommates came to collect her from the police station in Cici’s Kia Soul. 

The historian scrolled through the phone; blocking and deleting contacts and messages, shutting or privating her account so she wouldn’t get anymore buzz, then reported the posts that spread her phone and email address around on social media, and then turned the device off completely. The charcoal man faced the woman, taking in her bruising cheeks and reddened eyes, he instructed gently as Cici helped the woman out of her performance dress (she hasn’t looked at the dress since it was taken off), “Leave your phone off. Don’t use it. Let everything die out.” 

It was easier said than done. 

Yes, Aphrodite has left her phone off for several days. No, she didn’t stop herself from believing that everyone had just moved on when there were more interesting stories to learn about. Yes, she turned her phone on. And no, she hasn’t been able to turn it off because she has fully accepted that being kidnapped was somehow her fault. The woman has seen more activity from her pages than she has in the past year alone. But everything that comes at her is full of demanding questions and people pressing for answers that she cannot give. 

The woman turns away from her vanity, she steps back until her heel rubs against something soft. She glances and then hurriedly scoops up the doll from the floor. Jester has been her only companion in her room, sheltering her from the paranoia that seems to haunt her in the waking world. Jester has been given a new purpose by Cici who seems to be one of the two roommates who can enter her room without being smacked by a pillow to the face.

The blueberry had helped the poor woman out of the torn and ruined dress of his making, reassuring the woman that he was not angry that it was ruined and he could never be angry for how the dress turned out after she was kidnapped in it. He was more concerned about the woman’s wellbeing than the dress that may as well be scrap in his mind because the musician refuses to look at the dress after it was taken off. The designer took the dress to the room as Sun carefully got Aphrodite to the bathroom to help her bathe and wash away any cracked or dried blood on his face or body. 

Alone in his room; the blue-haired man started to rip the dress apart. Tearing at the seams like a wolf to a wounded prey, stripping the layers to its basic atoms, and howling at the bodice as it was the culprit that caused this whole situation; beads and threads littered his room and his feet ached as he stepped on the smaller pearls and kicked away the crumbled fabrics that once represented a moth unfurling its wings to take flight. After a few hours, Cici stood before his room in disarray with a sense of feral joy rumbled in his soul but he knows that his mind will be full of unrest until the people who have endangered and harmed the moth of pinkish delights is found and murdered by his hands or Radley’s. 

He doesn’t know much about what happened yet. He just got a call from the police station from the pinkette in near tears as she begged in the softest and most broken voice for him to come pick her up, (she begged him to save her, like she was being held hostage in the police station rather than giving a statement) and he has never rushed with the other three roommates in his car faster than the one time that Sun texted him to come pick her up from the Ivis Business & Law building she was interpreting at. 

Seeing the pinkette so shaken (and clearly unhelped), it nearly sent the blueberry over the edge.

The designer had just glanced over to the pillows where Aphrodite had left Jester, the doll’s button eyes were staring at him as if demanding or maybe he was asking for what was happening. There was some sense in the back of Cici’s mind that the damned doll was worming itself into his mind as he thought about the pinkette feeling unsafe in this moment of time. He reached out to brush his fingers over the two quills of the jester doll’s head and the base of his hand clasped over the middle of the plush and his feet carried him to the musician’s room. He was slow and entered only when he heard the faintest of welcome from the woman himself. The designer was swift to deliver his message and give the doll to the woman, daring not to look at the bruised face of the moth without dissolving into a fit of fury only Radley can outmatch. 

Cici kneeled at the woman’s side and tucked the doll into her arms, his eyes holding onto the button eyes as he whispered so softly to the doll, tasking him a new “mission” for the harpist, “Protect from her nightmares and help her dream. Protect her from her fears.” Was what he said before slowly kissing the top of the sleeping Aphrodite’s head with a lingering hand resting on the woman's shoulder. 

 Cici has been worrying himself over how he can make the musician feel better through this time of her life; that just seems unfair in every case. He tries to talk to her, to ask her like she would want one of them to stay at her side like she would hunt one of the roommates down for a nap- but she would turn away or break into sobs because the gesture was so kind, but, her mind was haunted from the recent events that occurred over the course of not only her kidnapping but also to what happened at the police station. So, the designer gave her the doll to be a quiet reassurance that she is safe and he knows that Jester will protect the woman at all costs. 

For Jester, he was not pleased with what was happening. 

Jester only got bits and pieces about what happened, being tucked into the arms of the woman and then seeing her face made his little plush body bubble with anger! Cici’s words rang in his ears, like he wasn’t obviously going to try his best to help Aphrodite with her nightmares. Cici had nightmares for weeks on days to months of him reliving the same nightmare of his father. It took him ages to finally get Cici to dream without the nightmare haunting his mind. 

 But now? Jester was going to keep his promise. Sue him, he likes Aphrodite! She’s sweet and he can see her being a good companion for Cici and if the woman ever needed a space to be safe, Jester was the guy to go to! (That is when he gets his original body back). Over the course of the month, the doll has been taking care of the woman by entering her dreamscape to see if he could influence the nightmares into blipping moments of sleep. Weaving her dreams into small blinking moments for her to forget when she wakes, yet, the doll can only do so much before even his doll body grows “tired” of constantly working around the clock to help the pinkette. 

And what makes his stuffing boil is how the woman cringed or flinched when one of the male roommates entered the room and tried to offer her a moment to leave her room for fresh air. It tells the plush so much of what could’ve happened when the musician was kidnapped and held at the police station. (In her nightmares that he made them blip, he saw the green hero tower over the small form of the woman as he raised his bow to kill- his words of hate and threats filled the space with a deafening echo. It enraged the doll).  

Despite the hurting look the males would carry when they tried to speak with the harpist, at least Sun has been putting in the effort to help the woman get back into some kind of schedule. For a month, the woman would only eat if someone delivered a tray to her door and/or knocked on her door to hand her the tray. Sun recommended that they start trying to get the woman to come out by luring her out of the room but it was a slow process that took two additional weeks to get the woman to come out and start to socialize herself with the roommates again.

Jester will say that with the pale woman at the pinkette’s side, there is a higher chance that she will start to get back to her “normal self”, even if this event impacted her so much that it leaves a worst taste in her mouth about the heroes. But that’s something that the roommates collectively agreed was something that was bad from the get-go. When the pinkette whispered the words of what the green hero said, when the hero of clovers threatened to ruin her life, to lock her away in the darkest cells of the Silver Tree Prison, and to leave her to rot- it took all four roommates to stop the brute of Aztec ancestry from breaking down the doors of the Heroes Command and demanding a fight from the hero himself. (Jester almost followed the historian into action).

Jester believed that maybe, just maybe, he would be able to manipulate some things around the mind of Aphrodite to get a hold of some information about what happened; names, details, locations- anything of note that could help him… “direct” Cici to figure out the identity of the culprits who harmed the moth of sugary delights and then go to the police anonymously to get more help! (Since when has he been so caring for these roommates…?)

Aphrodite approaches her door and stops before her hands can reach for the door; her hand shakes as it reaches for the circular knob, but just as she was about to push her hand to the handle, she shoots back and Jester falls to the floor, as if the handle was aflame and if she dared touch the faux-iron doorhandle, then her hand would burn ablaze. Jester watches through the button eyes the woman’s face morphs from unease to apprehension then to turn green as she kicks back rapidly and curls on the ground with a sudden thump. Her knees popping up and her face buried between the kneecaps as her breaths came out ragged and patched. 

She shakes with her hands curling into her ribbed wrist cuffs, her thumb threading over the threading and ribbing like a nun counting her prayer beads; she is curled like she is becoming a spot in her floor that never be cleaned, she simply wants to slip into a deep sleep that can pull her into a world where she is simply happy. That’s all she wants now; to be happy. Her roommates deserve to be happy. She wants to be happy. Why can’t…

Why can’t I be happy? 

Aphrodite was a stubborn woman when she needed to be. She was stubborn about many things and Jester is feeling stumped on how this situation has crushed the metaphorical spirit of the  harpist who seemed determined to perform to the greatest heights. But then again, if he was kidnapped after giving a performance of a lifetime to only then get kidnapped, attacked, saved, then accused of orchestrating it for some political move- it makes the woman’s consciousness and state of being a little more understandable. 

The doll of blue diamonds watches from the floor as the woman of harp strings starts to rock back and forth while muttering things under her breath, too soft and stuttered for him to hear. This happened far too many times for Jester to like. His little bean-filled arms can only do so much for this woman; he can only lean his stuffing-filled body against the woman for the best comfort. He can’t do anything more than just support her and give her all the support he can through what little power he can use from his comatose body. 

“Name five things that you can see, four things you can touch… th-three things you can feel,” Aphrodite mumbles with her hands spraying over the carpet and curling her fingertips over the fluffy ground. Aphrodite inhales shaky breaths as she tries to focus around her room to get her out of her early spiral. Her “spirals” are mostly from her paranoia from outside of her room and the mind being filled with “what if’s”- most of those thoughts are from her nightmares, more notably, the ones that make it seem like her rescue was actually a dream and she was locked up in a dingy cell that was covered in rats with a curved horn woman standing before with a look of hell over her wrinkled face. 

Luckily, it’s all a dream but that doesn’t stop the influence from making her feel as if the world outside was nothing but a hellscape to walk through. She just wanted to perform… she wanted to be happy…

There was a gentle knock that snapped the woman’s sharp breaths short and her voice scrambled to answer before whoever was at her door leaves, “Come in-” she pauses as she feels her body lock up and only when she sees the pale nightgown of Sun does the musician’s body finally relax. “Hey Apho, mind if we try to walk out to the others this time? Radley went to the fish market to make a sea boil. Sal went with him to help find the best crab for you to try.” Sun takes a glance around her room then opens the door more to enter the room and kneel before the curled-up woman. She reaches forward and tucks some hair behind the harpist’s ear and takes one of the hands to hold, it was an offer to bring peace to the apartment that has been so torn between wanting to avenge the pinkette to desiring to hold her and fight her nightmares away. Aphrodite sniffles as she slowly brings her head up to look at the pale interpreter. 

The pale woman watched the shift in the other’s shoulders; the hesitance turned into intrigue, then back of unease, her body stiffens as those ivy emerald eyes close to inhale on big breath, and her shoulders slouch with her body- the softest whisper slips past the pinkette’s mouth, “Okay … I- I’m coming.” Sun nods, biting back the smile that dares slip to her lips. The women started to move out of the room, Jester was placed on the bed, and with a soft click, the door was closed. The two started their small walk from a bedroom to five feet into the foyer where the boys were setting up the table. 

As the duo walk, the interpreter glances over to the pinkette who shuffles a little behind her, like she was trying to hide behind the paler woman. The bilingual feels… ha, “feels”- she’s been feeling rather angry with how everything is coming out to be. While Radley avoids all mention of the media for his sanity, Cici is throwing himself into work and making a bunch of outfits for Aphrodite to try on when she feels comfortable enough to try being herself, and Sal … Sal had been meditating a lot more in his room or in the living room which is good, but for her?

She feels like everyone is acting too fragile . 

She feels the bite on her tongue as she wants to start cursing and blemishing the records of the heroes and police. She has been keeping an eye on the media and what is being said about her roommate. 

Most people (who are obviously Destructies or have family of Destructives) are in support of her and wish her the best of recovery. But the loud outcry from the other group is starkly larger with their demands for Aphrodite’s head. She watches people online mock and demand or spill secrets that Aphrodite probably didn’t want anyone to know. Sun had single-handedly learned that Aphrodite was tested for her power at a facility closest to her hometown in Minnesota, she moved with her parents who are harp prodigies and forced her to take lessons at the age of four, she found that Aphrodite had gotten seven scholarships for her university, she found out that the woman has had at least seven ex’s: four guys and two gals. 

Some bastard even found Aphrodite’s medical record and posted the official record of when she fainted at practice and was diagnosed with her low-iron anemia. There was a whole section of people who were trying to find her address, aka the other roommates’ address, and she nearly fainted when someone claimed that they found her address but only to be discredited and their account taken down by the admins for “supporting harassment”. 

All over the city, it was divided because should someone who was kidnapped then returned with bruises be charged for faking or get an apology from the Moon Hero for failing to be there when the hero was needed most? Interviews after interviews from co-workers to fellow festival performers were asked, “what was she like?”, “did you like her?”, and “were you expecting her to make your hard work a political act?” Everyone, everyone at that festival who performed all agreed that the woman who played her harp was innocent. The violinist who went before Aphrodite, Max or Maxium or something, even said, “She asked me when I was going to propose to my now fiance and I told her that night I was going to. She wished me the best of luck and even pointed me towards the gardens where I did take my fiance to and proposed. And that was after my performance.”

Yet, the chorically online and the foul-mouthed morons still beckoned and called for the black market and the general public to hunt the woman down and “make her pay”. It sickened Sun. 

Fury and denial fueled her veins as she waited, and waited, and waited for those good for nothing heroes to say something about the situation. But not once through this past month have those cowards have said anything about the situation. If Radley got the full details like Sun was getting, then surely, he would have killed a hero or two. Rightly deserved in her opinion. “Hey Sun…?” The woman’s olive eyes peaked between her closed lashes to face the pinkette who clung to her arm with a vice grip, she shuffled close and whispered, “Sorry for making you do this… I-I wanted to leave on my own but I… I got too nervous and started feeling sick-” Sun gave a slow inhale for the other to follow, which she did. 

Sun felt her mind settle as the pinkette relaxed her tense body, she whispered, “It’s alright. I have a plan in mind to help you through this.” The pinkette blinked with a perked up expression, it was the only expression that broke apart from the normal one that Sun has been seeing: the frightful and hurt look. 

The girls get closer to the room where the boys are arguing about something as usual and when they enter the foyer, they find the most ridiculous sight; Cici arguing with Radley over a plate while Sal chews on a crab’s leg, the brute was pointing at a plate that was already full of food but it was obvious it was meant for Aphrodite because it was pink. And last time that either girls’ remembered; there was no pink plate anywhere in the apartment. “It’s NOT enough!” Cici stressed while Radley groaned, “It’s enough for her to feel full, you pint of fish!” 

“Now what in the hell does that mean?!”

“It means you are a small-ass fish that wouldn’t even get eaten by a tadpole!”

“Still not making any sense!”

Aphrodite tilts her head at the sight, a smile worming to her face while Sun facepalms with a shake of her head. Leave it to Cici and Radley to be the ones to cause the most mayhem and to get into an argument about something so small. Yet, Sun can see the smile on the other woman’s face; a smile that Sun welcomes immediately. 

Sal had turned his head and nearly choked on his crab leg when he saw the two women. He honestly expected to see only Sun with a plain but broken expression with the lack of luck of getting the pink woman out of her room. But to his relief and thrill, the harpist was by the interpreter’s side and trying so hard to not giggle at the sight of her two other roommates arguing about the semantics of insults. 

It made his head feel a little lighter; seeing the woman outside of her room and smiling like she had done when she was petting Nightmare back in the forest. But the man’s ever-persistent observant eyes noted how the pink-haired woman’s hands were tightly clutching the pale woman’s arm while being slightly behind in the shadow; her posture may be upright but it was obvious that she was going to run if she needed to flee. Sal swallowed as he made eye-contact with Aphrodite- feeling his skin burn warm as her emerald rested on his own. 

He hasn’t seen her in so long, he’s been unfortunate to be receiving a pillow to the face if he tries to enter the room, even with the permission of the pinkette. Sal takes a better look at the hair that the bathroom had stunk of bleach and the sink is now semi-permantly dyed with lavender instead of the charcoal gray that it was originally. It sort of made this cool purple shine over the sink, if anything, it was pretty to look at. 

The musician who hovered behind the interpreter slightly ducked away from the gaze of the other, her expression falling as if she felt afraid of his gaze. The man was signing before he could form a sentence in his mind to carefully sign out- he may know sign language but he was still a Hearing person so he had to constantly remind himself to sign in ASL GLOSS and not in English. “*APHRODITE, ME GLAD-TO-SEE-YOU,” which caught the attention of Radley who had his back turned to the girls. 

Once he turned, he froze up- his hackles raised high and frozen in place as he stared at the woman who suddenly felt the spotlight on her as the last of the roommates turned around and faced her. The musician felt her face warm as she took a step back, ready to duck back to her room- but her slacked grip gave Sun enough time to take Aphrodite’s hands and pull her to the table, even when the other was obviously afraid to approach. The pale woman’s movements snapped the three men from their trance and followed to sit at the table. 

The five sat at the table that seemed so small, with a big platter of already-shed crab meat and butterfly rows of shrimp with oysters cluttering around the carrots and celery sticks. Aphrodite already had a plate which consisted of longer and thicker shreds of crab meat with some oysters already scooped out and delicate set off to the left of her plate while the shrimp were already de-tailed and sitting neatly in a row for her to chew on. It was a sweet gesture, one very much appreciated, but Aphrodite was confused for why there was seafood to begin with. 

Everyone was waiting, trying to not stare at the woman and her healing face which is no longer a deep hue of blues and blacks, but now, softening yellows that show signs of disappearing minus the slight ache of soreness from the bruises. The pinkette felt their eyes on her and despite her desire to eat, she could only muster the softest voice to ask, “Why seafood?” Which rattled the table with the roommates glancing at one another. Radley licked his lips to smooth over the sudden parchness in his mouth as he flicked his eyes over to the silent knight then to the pale interpreter who reached over to pick up a shrimp tail. 

Cici bit the bullet, “Because Blood-Thirsty here said he wanted to make a spicy seafood boil and Sal agreed only if he came along to help Radley pick out the right fish.” The ivy green eyes glanced over to her brother figure who rolled his shoulders back while ducking his head away. An action he only did when confronted with a lie…

“You didn’t make this, did you?” She asked while leaning her head slightly to make eye contact with the other. 

The whole table froze. 

Sun blinked once then closed her eyes, replying with a soft scoff (already knowing the “gig” was up), “Obviously not. No one in this house besides Sal knows how to cook.” Radley sputtered and slammed his fists into the table while snapping at the pale woman, “I know how to cook! I just fucking made fajita’s yesterday! A godless version of fajita’s for you!” The pinkette snorted as she replied, “It’s a little obvious, Spicey.” She teased gently, carefully treading the water of teasing to her brother. The man’s dark eyes turned back to her as he pointed an accusing finger at her, “And what would you know?” 

This playfully got Aphrodite to smirk and reply with a smart tone, her head rising high as she replied with a triumphant smile, “Because a sea boil takes more than 50 minutes to prep and to boil. You need to let it marinate overnight so I know you didn’t make this. Where did you go?” She demanded. Both roommates glared at one another until the taller one finally broke, “Crab Shack…” He muttered and the woman sighed, “Was that so hard?” 

Radley barked back with a quick snip, “As if you can cook! Last time you tried, you nearly burned the apartment down!” The woman shot back with an equally sharp tongue, “Not true!” Then the table erupted between the two arguing over who almost burned down the apartment while Cici chimed in the truth (or lie, hard to tell when he’s trying so hard to not die of laughter with Sal who has given up trying to eat the food that he obviously bought). 

Sun observed this moment with a settling sensation falling over her body; it was a feeling of relief that fell over her but the back of her mind still stirs with how the world outside was still trying to bring harm to the woman who sits across from Sun with a smile on her face that none of the roommates had seen in over a month. Seeing the other smile so widely made Sun feel less worried about the other returning to her old self but it was the outside she was afraid of. 

Aphrodite mentioned in passing when Sun visited her with trays of food or helped her get into new clothes because the ones that the woman was wearing has been worn for several days and she needed a bath or shower to clean away the gunk build-up in her hair, although, it seemed like the woman was letting the purples fade over time, rather than washing it. Sun would listen to the pinkette mutter about how the green hero threatened to “make her life worse”, how the police kept yelling and demanded that she tell them why she would orchestrate a political move during a festival. 

The woman who just survived a kidnapping that most Destructives would have considered a death- was being dragged through the mud because no one beyond Destructive’s themselves think that she is innocent. The government, the mayor, the heroes, the people- they believe that Aphrodite faked everything. Sun can’t remember the last time her rage was stemming like steam being poured from a kettle- she feels as if everything being said over the media was full of rotten lies that didn’t have an ounce of truth, that’s why Sun suddenly speaks to break the joyous atmosphere, “Aphrodite?” She calls. 

The woman turns her head to her roommate, and Sun feels her mouth move as her closed eyes open fully to make eye-contact with the woman who went through “death”. 

“Do you want to sue the Heroes Command?”

Chapter Text

The silver building stood out against the blue sky like an eye-sore. The buildings were made of three; the main building is where the bank and most of the law offices were located to help, the two buildings behind the main one is where the business happened; the building on the right was where the restaurant, the employees, and several vaults are located- all tightly secured and thoroughly checked for fraud or theft every second of the day, and on the left, was the building that Sun was the most emancipated for. She remembers the building well; she remembers the doors, the hallway, and more importantly, the one person in this damned city that might make a change for Aphrodite’s situation. 

When Sun had initially asked if the pinkette wanted to sue to the Heroes Command and by extension, the Mayor’s office with the Police due to lack of Due Process; the pinkette only stared as if the woman sitting across from her had grown two additional heads. Radley and Cici froze while Sal slowly turned his head to the interpreter, a silent “what did you just say” falls over the table as the dark olive eyes hold the emeralds in a locked gaze. The musician only stared, she never blinked through the whole staring, and even when Cici broke the tension by flicking some tail of shrimp at Radley who gladly took the distraction to break the stare down that Aphrodite was giving, the answer only came at night when the pinkette snuck into the interpreter’s room and whispered with a shaky breath, “Can I actually do that?” 

It’s not uncommon for a Destructive to wonder if suing is even possible for them. Most of the time, the lawsuit filed is either disregarded, lost in the system, or never brought to light or given to a judge. You could have the best of the best lawyers, all the evidence and testimony, and unlimited money in your hands- but if you are a Destructive, then that lawsuit is good as nothing in the eyes of the court system. It’s not unheard of for the courts to either ignore or never get the case of the lawsuit, and especially one against the Heroes Command and the Police, that is almost impossible to bring forward to a judge who would even glance at the casework. 

But Sun was confident, she knew that Ivis would be willing to help her, and by extension, her roommates, if she played her cards right. She knows their reputation well enough to know that if she pitches the lawsuit good enough, they will hopefully take the bait. Afterall, in their last meeting/interogation/date (was it considered a date even if she was too nervous internally to outright reject the man), the silver man said that they would like to speak with her again, and she supposed this was as good a time as ever to meet up again. Perhaps she could make a trade of information or services, she could interpret for a certain amount of time and Ivis could take Aphrodite’s case. 

And there was that worry about money…

Aphrodite’s shuffling pulled Sun from her thoughts to glance at the pinkette. The pale woman was aware that if she brought herself and Aphrodite out in public where the media was still in a height of craze for hunting down the harpist- then it would be a death wish for both women. So Sun did something she hasn’t done since she left home; she broke the rules of her aid. 

Every Destructive has a set of rules for themselves to learn how to properly manage their power but to also know their limits when it comes to their powers either being inhibited or uninhibited by their aid. Sun isn’t sure what the other three roommates with their aids have as their rules but her rules were set in stone from the moment she was born into the world with mist and clouds being her cradle. 

One. She will never shatter her aid

Two. She will keep her glamour over her body until she is alone in her room

Three. Never go out on a full moon

Four. If discovered, flee

Five. Never glamour another person, even if they can be trusted

Six. Never break or bend these rules

These rules have been engrained into her mind since her birth; aunties, grandmothers, parents, distant family, strangers- all stare at her as she walks through the temples with her head lowered. While living in her home village, there was little access to facilities for Destructive children in the farmlands or in the villages where technology was nonexistent. For her, her aid was the stern teachings that were embedded into her mind, the words of prayer to the Buddha and his disciples for her “recovery”, and while her academics soared and her life changed for the better, she still swore to these rules until the day of her deathbed. 

On the day of the meeting, Cici called out for the two women to hurry and get downstairs so he could drive them to the building. Sun pulled Aphrodite into the bathroom and pressed two fingers to the pinkette’s mouth, her voice softer as if she was speaking to her sibling in the dead of night, “I will be creating an illusion over you so that no one can recognize you when we arrive at the office. I will only drop the illusion when we are face-to-face with Ivis.” 

The harpist nods and once Sun lowered her hand down to hold the other’s hand. Sun murmured with her lips clipping the last runes that settled heavily over the interpreter’s tongue, the bathroom’s stale bleach smell started to wisp around the women as a smell of honey and incense started to permeate the air. Around the pinkette, a fog like veil fell over her and it wrapped around every curve and the long hair that has finally been cleaned was shortened as the veil wrapped around the hips of the woman, making her form more pronounced with her limbs being slightly elongated, but not so much to make it look inhuman. 

Then the fog veil melted and wept into the skin of the pinkette, forming a perfect barrier over her and while the pinkette looked different; peach pink and yellow hair, a more round face with little vitiligo to be seen over her face or legs, and the dress was longer with a different color entirely; the musician was no longer Aphrodite but someone completely different. Sun gave a once over and nodded, both exited, shouting their goodbyes to Radley and Sal who waved goodbye, jumped into Cici’s car, and within 15 minutes, both women were in the main building and escorted to the elevators that would take them to the main office of the lawyer themselves. 

The golden doors opened with a soft ‘ding’ and the women stepped in, Aphrodite clings onto the pale interpreter’s hand as the elevator goes up, the machine curls and vibrates together in a slow and methodical hum with the floors clicking every time they pass the floor, and the closer that the elevator got closer to the 13th floor, the tighter Aphrodite clung onto the pale woman. 

On the way to the law and business buildings, the pale woman gave a general idea of what she can ask of the lawyer to take Aphrodite’s case; of course, the pinkette mentioned the worry of money, Ivis was one of the bigger lawyers in the city with their bounty for their head on the black market is more than maybe the entirety of the city’s funding and taxes year round. But before the wheat-haired woman could reassure the other, Cici chimed from the wheel while making eye-contact with the harpist in the review mirror, “Don’t worry about money. Worry about convincing the lawyer to take your case.”

Both girls glanced at each other and then continued the discussion of what to say, what to provide, and then they arrived at the building. Cici parked the car and helped Aphrodite out of the back, taking a protective stance around her, the illusion covering the harpist worked like a charm, no one batted an eye at the trio. It relieved the interpreter and yet, when she felt the tightened grip of her hand and just one glance to the glamoured woman was enough for Sun to feel the same anxious energy that Aphrodite compelled. 

Yes, she was covered and hidden from the world with the roommate’s “magic” but the nervous shift of the eyes with the slightest bite of the inside of the cheek told the roommate that Aphrodite wasn’t just nervous about meeting someone like Ivis, it was the rejection that could come from the man who proclaims to be on the side of Destructives. 

The elevator jolts as it comes to the 13th floor and both women exit swiftly, heading towards the doors that hold the last gateway to either a peace of mind, or denial of help. 

After Sun returned from her first encounter with the silver and topaz-eyed man, she discussed heavily their implications of what they were asking, what they were inquiring while simultaneously making Sun feel like she was being “flirted” with under the guise of asking about her political beliefs. Cici was sitting on the floor with Aphrodite braiding his hair, weaving each long strand of blue over the white underside of his hair then crossing that strand with the darker sapphire strands of the blue, Sun was resting on the floor with her hands folded with her eyes closed (as usual). 

“But does it not seem as if they were asking personal things of me that would only be asked by a significant other?” Sun asked when she turned her head to face the duo. Back then, the pinkette was bubbly and unafraid of touch from someone she knew, she was happy and full of life with her eyes almost glimmering in the dull light of Sun’s bland room. She didn’t decorate the room much like the others; her room was simple with Buddhist items set on her nightstand-turned-shrine and there was a single photo of her sibling (who Cici has taken to nickname them “Cloudy”) which was when they were just only a few years old and holding an old thing of Sun Wu Kong straw doll that she had made back some years. 

The room wasn’t very much “lived” in as some would say; if someone saw the other roommates’ rooms, they would agree that those rooms were live in because of all the personal touches and the little incidents that could have happened in the room (like how Radley is hiding a caved-in hole in the wall because he punched it out of anger and now hides said hole with a tapestry he hangs on the wall). But if that same person were to look into Sun’s room, they would see how it was almost untouched, more of a “guest bedroom” than it would be for a roommate. There were no distinct colors beyond maybe a few ribbons that her younger sibling had made and sent to her during her time at university and her internships. 

Aphrodite hums, her fingers taking hold of the next strand for the braid, “I mean… yeah- it was a line of questions that are typically meant to be asked by a romantic partner or close friend. Not a boss/client.” She weaves the next few strands into the braid, reaching closer to the end of the braid of Cici’s hair. Speaking of the designer, he kept his eyes closed as he spoke at the ceiling but in the general direction of Sun who sat perfectly perched on her bed as she watched the duo. “Did the lawyer make you feel uncomfortable?” A rather simple question that carried such a heavy weight. 

Sun had responded at that moment, no; she was not uncomfortable. “A better word for my feelings at that moment would be “put off” or “unnerving”. Maybe even unsettling.” The line of questioning was odd, it was considered “taboo” by the bigger community of the Destructives. Throughout social media, it’s popular for the Destructives to voice their boundaries or give advice for when boundaries were crossed by the larger society. Sun doesn’t dwell too much on those political posts (even if they aren’t considered political), she’ll come across a post about someone’s encounter with a boss, co-worker, passerby, or other individual who seemingly ignored their boundaries or attempted to invade their privacy because they were simply “Destructives”. 

Sun has read posts about what a Destructive should have on their person in case they are stopped by the police or a hero, what boundaries a Destructive should state when meeting a new person, and the more Sun read into those posts, the more her inner voices chimed that her apathetic mask was her boundary and her only sanctuary. 

‘My mask will never slip. I must keep it on at all times,’ just like how she only drops her glamor when she is certainly alone in her room. 

As Sun walked closer to the golden doors that would lead into the lobby she was familiar with, she could feel her mask slip between her fingers like sand nestled in the crevices of her palms. She tries to make sense of what can be the reason for why her mask is slipping; is it because of her emotions? The emotions that have been repressed by her childhood and feelings she shoved so deep into her void that just merely hearing the word “guilt” sent her into an inner spiral over how she could have done better to protect Aphrodite during the festival. 

Or could it be the logic that tries to fight back against the emotions that rise steadily like a flooding room? Honestly, Sun feels like she is in a room slowly filling with words and jagged pieces of a mask that she had carefully crafted from cracked glass and warm sand; the logic traps her in glass as the shattered pieces filter into her cage as she slams her hands over the prison she built to protect herself from the world that dares to push her further from the safety of her own mind. 

The steady click of Sun’s heels and the soft shuffle of Aphrodite’s flats swipe through the tension-filled air as the golden doors to the lobby opened and both women stood inside the lobby where the receptionist that Sun had met at first was sitting in her chair, typing away on her keyboard and glanced at the doors. Aphrodite shuffled closer and gulped, as if she was being seen through the disguise that Sun had put over her. Sun directed the cloaked pinkette to the sofa and sat down, their hands entwined parted for a moment- Sun internally cringed on how clammy her hand felt with nerves. 

Seeing this room again, she takes her time to start counting her inhales and exhales as she waits. The room was the same as she had seen the first time, shelves full of different genres of books, sofas which cushioned the body of the two women, and while the glamored woman was sitting perfectly straight and gripping onto the straps of her bag. The harpist had brought a bag along which carried a folder of printed screenshots of her bruised face after a month of healing. 

Despite her darker complexion, the bruises were still prominent and while none of the roommates took any photos of the bruises when they were fresh, Aphrodite did mention the mugshots that were taken of her when she was first taken into the police station. That’s when Cici suggested taking photos of the healing bruises for contrast of when she was fresh versus the healing process. 

Radley was leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom as Sal took photos of Aprhodite’s healing bruises, his heavy brows were burrowed as he watched the gentle hands of the knight carefully adjust the woman’s face in the light to get a clearer picture of the throat that showed more of the hand prints that came from the red-haired woman. Radley shifts with his arms crossed, watching every twitch that Aphrodite makes whenever the purple-haired man just grazed his knuckles against a healing bruise. “Hey Sucrose,” he calls. He drawls his voice slowly and when Sun passes, she feels as if the man was slowly unbunching himself from the tight position he was stuck in as he observed the other. 

“Yes, Radley?” She responded. Her emerald eyes facing the brute as he stared longer, his face was set in a stone that spoke more volumes than his usual grunting face. Sun may be able to read people easily, she was able to read Sal and Cici well enough, she got a better read on Aphrodite because she wore her emotions on her body like it was clothing, and so, she assumed it would be easy to read Radley’s expressions. The man was a brute of nature. 

A feat of creation by the gods who made a man a hulk of muscle while also making him intolerable to spices and his long dark hair was a matted mess if Aphrodite didn’t chime and pester him to take better care of it. Not to mention, her interactions with him are always clipped or shortened. It’s mostly because she falls silent during the conversation, struggling to see what the latino wants when in the conversation; does he want her to do a chore, does he want to ask her something, or is there something she’s unaware about that requires him to ask her something? 

Questions filled her mind as she stared at the historian. Sometimes, the duo can hold conversations but internally, she is questioning everything about him because she just can't read  him. He, too, wears his expressions on his body like clothes but those clothes might as well be transparent and he’s naked because Sun can’t get a read on him. 

But this one time, this time when he’s observing the knight who saved his sister-figure, this instance where his eyes are narrowed like daggers, his nails drum on his forearm while his mouth twitches with every flinch that Aphrodite inherently does. His shoulders hike up and while the narrowed eyes would be a dead give-away to his emotions, it makes it harder in reality for Sun to read him. Most would assume that the man being hunched over, practically vibrating with furious energy, and seems to be inching closer to entering the bathroom to launch himself at the purple-haired male for making the woman in the room flinch again; Sun can say that there is something more to his body language and expressions. 

There was this emotion she couldn’t pinpoint as she observed the man sit in the silence he created and brought the attention to himself as he doesn’t respond to the pink-hair harpist when she responded to his call. After staring at the man who stops all movement, his dark eyes blink and break away from the emerald ones; he turns and almost runs Sun over with how swiftly he moves away, “Tell me if you want to finish this.” He calls back as he disappears into the depths of his room. 

Sun, at the time, simply let the man walk away- seeing no reason to follow him. But she couldn’t help but wonder what he meant, “tell me if you want to finish something” implied a project that Aphrodite and himself hadn’t finished yet, or it alluded to something that Aphrodite didn’t complete something (perhaps she was making a song for Radley to listen too and the events of the festival put everything on a literal pause). The pale woman turns to the woman who sits so still on her side, her hands turned white with how tightly she gripped her sidebag. 

Through the small flap on the bag, the olive eyes could see the small bits of blue. She didn’t even see the woman snag the small jester doll from her room; the interpreter wondered if the woman had snagged the doll before the duo went into the bathroom or if the pinkette had taken the doll from Cici who slipped the bag into her hands when the trio were settled in the car. Sun returns her hand to hold the musician’s hand and she leans down with a softest whisper she can muster in the strong silence, “If you need to bring it out, just do so. Don’t fear judgment, Ivis doesn’t seem to be the type to judge if you bring something to soothe yourself.” Aphrodite’s glamored eyes lifted up and for a moment, she leaned down to whisper something that seemed so much like her , “Since when did you refer to the lawyer by their first name?” She inquired with a soft tease in her voice. 

It made Sun offer the smallest of smiles as she leaned closer, almost bumping her head in affection to the pinkette who giggles so gently, “Since they apparently asked me on a date according to you and Cici.” Before the other woman could respond with another tease, the door across the room opened and there the man themselves stood- just like Sun remembered them last time. 

A sharp ivory white suit with matching dress pants, sharp dress shoes with a hint of gold trim on the tips, long and silky white hair pulled into a high bun while the smaller strands feel away from the updo, and their eyes of topaz searched the room before settling on the two huddled women, their face twitched in recognition which Sun knew was from their past interactions and they were more than likely surprised to see someone different when they obviously had a photo of Aphrodite and Sun. 

“Please, follow me,” they instructed, smooth as stone and sharp as a knife. Both women stood andSun raised her head higher to seem like she was guiding the woman behind her as if she was a part of a herd that only Sun guided. Walking down the same pathway as before, Sun kept her body as a barricade between the honeyed eyes of a lawyer and the frightened deer in headlights jade eyes. Sun isn’t sure what Ivis was thinking as they glanced over to the other woman who looked nothing like the pinkette they had seen with Sun not only at the one instance at Target but probably all over the news and media. 

Reaching the golden doors, the lawyer pushed back the golden doors embedded with swirling dragons and eyes of narrowed slits, and the office was just as strict as the suit that Ivis wore. There was a long blocky U-shaped desk with computers sitting on one side and files across the other side, then in the center was their name tag along with planners, and more files that Sun could tell were statements that Aphrodite had submitted about a few weeks prior to the current meeting. 

“Please, have a seat while I start us with some tea. It’ll be complimentary.” Ivis offered as they closed the door and started to head to the other side of the three-window room where a cart of kettles and tea bags sat on a trolley and a mini-stove sat off to the side of the counter. Sun turns to Aphrodite and escorts her to the chairs that were very comfy sofa chairs. “Here…” She whispered as she took Aphrodite’s hands again and dispersed the glamor over the pinkette, finally letting her true complexion come out now that there were no cameras in the office. 

The harpist slowly took a seat, her bag draped next to her legs as her hands clasped together to hide the subtle shake in her fingers. While she had been mentally preparing herself for this moment, being seen by someone who won’t judge her for the events that occurred nor blame her for the events that happened, she still can’t stop the shake in her fingers or the small shakes in her shoulders as she watches the back of the lawyer. 

Sun takes her seat and sits as straight as her inner turmoil lets her, she wants to slip into a comfortable position- these chairs were built like a mattress for her stiff back, a luring welcome for her to slouch into the chairs and their cushions. She closed her eyes to still her racing heart as the clatter of cups and the soft whistle of the kettle filled the room, her ears picked up the soft shuffling of Aphrodite on her right as she finds a spot to sit perfectly still and she takes in the small shifts of fabric from the suit that Ivis wears. “Is Oolong tea alright for now?” They inquired, and both women responded with soft agreements. 

As the tea is poured, Sun opens her eyes to face the lawyer as they turn, their steps faltering when their honey eyes fall on Aphrodite, “Ah… so you were in a disguise. I thought perhaps my sixth sense was tricking me for one reason or another,” Ivis offers in the silence. Sun takes to the response like fish to bait, “It was better than having a paparazzi follow her into the building and potential cameras snuck into your office.” Granted, it would have been difficult for the paparazzi to even try to set up cameras in the office without the head of the office noticing. 

The room was very similar to the one where Sun had first met the silver white man. The front wall, the left, and right wall were all windows, giving a perfect view of the city and if the interpreter squinted, she could probably see the plaza where the festival was held and maybe from the far distance, the Heroes Command building. The windows seemed clean and the sun shining was gentle rather than harsh, on the back wall with the doors were all full of bookshelves with law books, magazines, and a few diplomas that any lawyer would have on their wall. Although Sun did notice one photo on the silver man’s desk that was turned away from the woman, she briefly wondered if the photo was of the lawyer’s family.

“Here,” a cup of warm tea appeared in her face and she took the cup with a curtsey of her head. Then the other up was taken by Aphrodite who bowed her head and quickly sipped the tea, an attempt to soothe her nerves. Ivis took their seat in their chair and carefully sipped their cup as they reached over to fetch their files, “Now… Shall we begin?” They asked as they flipped open the file which held some photos and from Sun’s perspective, probably had the statements that Sal had sent in the email that Sun had sent over to Ivis when she reached out. 

It was most likely one of the most time-sensitive moments that Sun has ever pressured herself into because of the urgency that filled her as she tried to form together the papers, the statements, and photos of the healing face. The honey and gold eyes trace over the words on the statements and sometimes, those eyes would glance up at Aphrodite, who seems to curl in on herself the longer the eyes of the lawyer glanced up at her. 

Sun can feel the apprehension that Aphrodite gives to the room, her shakes are minimal but it was obvious to see the small shake of the pinkette’s fingers as she grips onto the cup of tea like it was a lifeline. “Now… Ms. Paradise, ah- would it be alright if I called you Aphrodite?” Ivis started, folding their hands over the files and turning their head at the harpist. The musician swallows a large lump of tea and settles the cup on the desk where the saucer was placed, “Yes- yes, that’s okay.” She answers hurriedly. The lawyer nods and tilts their head, their expression gentle, making Sun feel as if they created this expression to soothe the nerves from nervous or clients who were afraid to speak. 

“Aphrodite, your roommate has been kind enough to supply me with the basics of what I need to proceed with the lawsuit, including photos and statements from your other roommate… Sal, correct?” The pinkette nods. Ivis nods and looks at the papers on the desk, their folded hands pulling away as they weighed one each hand, twisting their wrist to illustrate their point, "I see from the statements of your roommates about the first-hand events that transpired after the event and then there is Sal’s statement which gives more details about what occurred at the warehouse which I have sent an associate of mine to search for evidence in case the attackers have tried to re-establish a plan for another kidnapping attempt on a different Destrcutive…”

Then the other wrist gestured to the musician, “Although, I see here that your testimony is detailed, I would like to personally hear what happened at the police station and with the interrogation with the green hero. I know that Sun, here, had taken most of what you told her into the email but I would like more details. But only if you can muster it. I prefer all my clients to feel safe and secure enough to give me their account when they feel more comfortable. So please, only tell me what you feel comfortable with, yes?” 

The emerald-eyed woman nods slowly as she folds her hands, the tremble of her hands start again and Sun takes everything in her power to not reach out and offer to hold the other’s hand, she can’t make it seem like she might be influencing Aphrodite to change her story. The pinkette opens then closes her mouth, brows ticking down, unsure of how to answer the question. She takes a few more seconds to try and find her words, her eyes display her unease, and even when Ivis relaxes in their chair in an attempt to bring some ease to the woman. Aphrodite glances to her bag, where a peak of the folder sits comfortably, and next to the folder was the doll that she brought with her. 

For some, it would be silly to bring a literal toy to a meeting that is going to determine whether she gets “revenge” for what happened to her. Yet, that doll with a little jester hat brought her such peace to her heart, so much so, she turned to the silver lawyer and asked the most pressing question on her mind, “Before I explain everything, would I or any of my roommates have to appear before court?” Sun blinked and turned her head to the other, who slowly tilted their head to the side, “It would have to depend,”

They lowered their head as if in a mock bow to the ladies as they continued with a rather indifferent tone, “If the situation does require the other roommates to give testimony then, yes, they would need to appear before the court. But, if it is your desire, I can make it so that the faces and the “who is who” are completely sealed from the public, the media, and only available through the court documents.” Based on Aphrodite’s face, that didn’t seem to soothe her nerves. The woman sat back, her face molding into a brow of confusion as she glanced at the interpreter then responded, “But is it possible for myself and my roommates to not need to appear before the court? We are not trying to file criminal charges, or be served criminal charges.” 

Ivis nods, closing their eyes as they gestured to the paper on the table, “I understand this but it would have to depend on the situation and further, it would have to depend on what will be told to me. For example; if what I hear can be successful in charing with the Heroes Command and the Police with neglect or whatever charges I see would fit best for the lawsuit, then that would depend on your testimony, and not just your testimony, but also the testimony of the other roommates who were either involved or witnessed what occurred.”

Makes sense in Sun’s opinion; if the story that Ivis will hear requires that the testimony of Sal should be told in court, then yes, Aphrodite would have to appear in court including the other roommate. But Sun senses that the harpist is trying to not only protect the spa therapist, but to also protect the other three roommates. Sun was there to see the bruises and demand that Cici drive the three of them to a clinic so that Aphrodite can be tended to. Radley nearly lost his mind in a haze of fury when his sister-figure flinched when he reached out to hug her. And Cici… Cici was just being oddly quiet. Nothing worrisome, he has just been quiet and taking everything slow for the pink-haired woman. 

“So… depending on what you hear, what you charge, and what the evidence says; that will say if my roommates and myself would have to appear in court?” The silver individual nods. Aphrodite slowly inhales, her folded clenched hands twitch and her eyes dart back down to the back, staring at the doll that Sun knows that the woman wants to hold for reassurance. Yet, the musician stays strong when she exhales softly and nods, “Okay… I… I suppose I understand.” 

Those emerald eyes close as she starts, “About a month ago, I perfromed at the Festival of Stars,”

___________________________

…

…

…

__________________________

The drive from the highway to the police station was filled with tense silence. The officer in the car was completely silent as he drove through the city, full of Lady Moon posters and flags decorated in moonlight imagery, a sense of guilt worming its way into Aphrodite’s stomach- making her already pounding head and aching body flush with heat for a moment. She watches the sights of the city flash past as she is taken further and further away from the highway where her roommate was separated from her and the heroes were left behind to pick up the pieces that lingered around the highway. 

The car starts to rumble as the police station comes into view, and at first, Aphrodite followed along with the cop- her mind was half awake when she was taken to the interrogation room, being seated on thin the chair,  she halfway wondered if she was going to see a paramedic or someone would bring in a first aid kit, but all she got was silence. 

“I waited,” Aphrodite mumbled, her ivy eyes closing as she recalled the memories that flashed by. She remembered waiting, sitting in a chair that was starting to push an ache into her tailbone as the dress of massive size with more beads that she’s ever worn, including layers and layers of fabric that have become a makeshift blanket to weather the cold chill of the interrogation room. She waited, her hands fiddling with wringing the thumbs around her top hands. She waited as she looked around, flinching or whimpering softly whenever the bruises on her face flared. “It was numbing, but also aching. It hurt to move, to move my face, even opening my mouth made my face ache.” Aphrodite raised her hand to almost touch her face, but in a split moment, she dropped her hand. 

She stared at her lap, pulling herself deeper into the memories of how she kept her head down as the police officers entered the room to “take a crack at her”- to break her silence and force her to confess just so they could feel “like they live up to the heroes.” The harpist continues with her hands gripping onto her kneecaps, “They continued to badger me, accusing me of making this all of my own making, no matter how many times I begged- they refused to let me see anyone.”

There was a creak of the the lawyer’s chair which made the pinkette glance up through her fallen hair, emerald eyes flashed with the smallest bit of fear at the cold gaze that the lawyer carried; those topaz eyes were warm, full of honey and sweetness that made Aphrodite feel like she was in a cotton candy haze where the honey was wrapped around her firmly in a hug, she felt safe under the gaze of the topaz honey eyes, but now, with the fury sparking in the other’s eyes, she felt danger. 

“You asked for a lawyer? Did they not provide one at any time during the interrogation?” Ivis pressed, leaning on their desk with his hands folded and their brow furrowed deeply. The look that Ivis carried on their face was neither furious or expressive, as if they couldn’t explain the emotion they were feeling in the moment. But their honey eyes were full of flames. Aphrodite turned to Sun who closed her eyes to inhale slowly, helping Aphrodite to mimic the movement, “Yes. I asked for my lawyer and to act on my 5th amendment but…” the harpist’s silence that came after was enough for the lawyer to fill in the gaps. They leaned closer, eyes hard set on the smaller form of their client, “And you are swearing that the police AND the hero did not uphold your Miranda Rights and your 5th Amendment? Are you 100% certain?” 

Aphrodite almost wrinkled her nose out of habit, almost filled with disbelief. She wouldn’t lie about this. She knows better than to lie to someone like a lawyer. She’s only seen so many True Crime shows where the defendant hid a fact from the lawyer and after the fact was discovered, then the whole trial is thrown for a loop. Law and Order has trained her to never lie to the police or the lawyers, to never make deals or speak to anyone unless a lawyer is present, and when she was thrown into a room where the police hounded her like she was a criminal who blown a whole city block into the stratosphere; she felt her body constrict with pain as she begged, cried, and yelled for her right to see someone that wasn’t an officer who was one step closer to grabbing her and throwing her into a cell without any charges. False imprisonment is a horror story from what Aphrodite heard from rumors. 

“I kept asking for a lawyer while they rotated people to come in to try and get me to admit I “had done this act of rebellion” but I told them over and over , “I did not do this on purpose.” But… well- they didn’t listen for a few hours.” If Sun thought Ivis was about to break their desk, then the grip they had on the table now was surely going to smash the desk now. 

“They held you for how long?” The lawyer asked with gritted teeth and a short tut. The harpist opened her mouth then clicked it shut, she turned to Sun with a furrow on her brow, “I… I don’t know. I- I barely remember what happened after the hero… I just- I don’t recall…” Sun opened her eyes as she exhaled. She couldn’t forget waiting in the parking lot with Radley and trying to keep Cici from having a mental breakdown and holding Radley by the scalp of his head to keep him from attacking a reporter who was spouting nonsense about the festival and Aphrdoite’s kidnapping. One woman had tried to ask them what their opinion was about the “political stunt” and Radley nearly threw the news camera across the parking lot- had Sun not intervened.  

But she will never forget the moments when Aphrodite called her name from the darkened stage. It will always haunt Sun 

When the lights snapped off in the atrium, the woman felt her blood freeze- her heart leapt into her throat so fast that she felt like she was choking. Then to hear her roommate scream her name for help, she almost fainted in her seat from the shock. The whole atrium went into a frenzy, the security jumped onto the stage just as the lights sparked on to illuminate an empty stage and a harp without its owner to play. The haze of being escorted out of the atrium and losing Sal into the crowd as he rushed off (most likely to search for the pinkette) and she was forced to sit on the hood of Cici’s Kia Soul, holding back a man who was pacing like a hungry predator and another man who was curled into a fetal position and rocking back and forth in his car as he tried to ground himself.  

Sun could only imagine the guilt that Cici was feeling at that moment. It was natural for Cici to feel the most guilt; he was the closest to the stage and therefore, he could’ve been able to react quicker to saving Aphrodite if he was given the split mili-second to react and jump over a row of people to reach the stage. When CIci was reunited with the other two, he was shaking and barely breathing- resulting the historian to take Cici to his car, put him in the passenger seat, and the close the door to pace so he didn’t say or do something that would result in pushing the blue-haired roommate into a further spiral. 

On the other hand, Radley only got more aggravated as he’s being held back from searching for the pinkette. Radley paced and checked his phone every five seconds while searching for any signs of a hero with a pinkette by their side or any news of Sal with an iota of where his sister-like figure was taken to. Sun sees the close connection the both of them have; Aphrodite and Radlety both have lived by one another’s side since their younger years in school; they went through private school, university, they stayed at Radley’s family’s home for a short time, and they have never been apart for longer than maybe six months, and seeing how Radley was this close to snapping someone’s neck for answers; Sun was the only barrier that stopped the brute from mass-killing a bunch of heroes in the name of finding his sister. 

His blood-thirsty rage is something to almost be admired; Sun sees it as a “green flag” (even when killing someone is very much on the “MASSIVE RED FLAG!!! DO NOT DATE!!!” list), the idea/fact that he is willing to raze down anyone who may be withholding information to find his sister-like figure, and perhaps by extent, the other roommates; it’s … charming in a way. 

But his rage is not the only “green flag” in Sun’s opinion; he’s very domestic and calm with last minute changes, he adapts when things don’t go to plan, he enjoys picking up chores if someone is unable to because of work or something other (often picking up Aphrodite’s chores when she naps or some of her own chores because she was still working), he’s honest about finances, and he’s blunt with what he wants. He won't sugarcoat something that needs to be said; if he sees something that he doesn’t like, he’ll make it known without trying to beat around the bush (another thing that Sun deeply appreciates from the man, especially when she has the hardest time to tell if someone is joking or being sarcastic). 

When Cici was calm enough to talk again, Sun suggested try to drive around the city to hopefully find something about the two missing roommates, and when the three of them got in a car, that’s when they got the call from Sal (or rather an interpreter who was called to the scene after Four-Leaf Clover realized that Sal was only communicating in sign language). They found Sal who was only slightly scraped up, but no Aphrodite. 

Radley was about ready to blow until Cici gravitated his attention away so Sun and Sal could quickly talk, “*APHRODITE WHERE?” Sun asked with her hands starting to shake as she noticed a distinct lack of purple hair in the crowd of the media and smaller heroes surrounding the hospital that Sal was at to try and keep the situation under wraps. “*APHRODITE DON’T-KNOW. SHE NOT WITH YOU?” Sal asked, his face furrowing in worry as Sun shook her head. “* POLICE TAKE APHRODITE. SHE GO WITH YOU NOT?” Sun pressed. 

Once Sal shook his head, the cold dread returned and dropped into her stomach like a stone thrown into the river. She felt light-headed and Sal was quick to support her when her body swayed for a moment. “*FIND HER MUST!” Sal urged when he was reunited with the other three males. Cici said that he’s been trying her phone but got nothing. Radley was able to wave over a nurse to beg her to find out any information for Aphrodite and if she was taken to some hospital across the city. The nurse was kind and swift, prioritizing the hulking man and his woes over the chaos of the media trying to get a photograph of Sal and the missing musician. 

“She hasn’t been signed into any hospital in this area. I’ll get some calls and pull some strings,” the nurse assured before running off to find any information about the missing roommate. The four sat in a room for about three hours until Cici’s phone rang, Sal was the closest to the blueberry’s phone, and he picked it up. Cici was leaning against Radley who was helping him through a breathing exercise that was needed after the nurse returned for the eight time with no news. An unknown number flashed over the screen and Sal reached over to end the call but Cici’s hand stopped him. “That’s the jail’s number,” he said as he took the call. 

Sun noticed the odd look that both Sal and Radley gave the blueberry male as he answered the phone. “Hello?” Cici answered and after a few seconds of silence, Cici stumbled backwards, catching the roommates off guard. “Cici-” Radley cursed as he grabbed the man’s arm and Cici wasn’t even paying attention, his eyes were wide with his mouth moving faster than his brain was registering, “Okay- okay- yes! Yes- I’ll be there. Don’t say anything to anyone. ” In the rush of leaving the room by yelling over his shoulder to the nurse to thank her for all her help and yelling at the other three that Aphrodite has been in an interrogation room this whole time. 

“About three hours… Maybe longer.” Sun answered. Aphrodite blinked, seemingly surprised, which the silver-haired man took note immediately. “You seem… surprise?” They noted. The musician quickly responded with a fumble of her words, raising her hands to gesture to herself, “I- I didn’t even realize. I thought… I thought I was, maybe, inside the room for maybe an hour…” Goes to show how the badgering of the innocent woman made her perception of time warp, and not to mention for how long the green hero might have been threatening and forcing her into a corner in the belief that she was doing something wrong. Ivis nods and picks up a pen and scribbles something onto the papers in front of them. 

“I see… Aphrodite, please tell me about what happened when the hero came in.” Gods, what could she say about how Four-Leaf Clover handled her. When the green hero archer entered the room, Aphrodite physically relaxed- she thought the hero was going to give her some reprieve, or maybe get her to a hospital, but she was sorely wrong . 

Four-Leaf Clover entered the room, shutting the door softly as he took off his archer bow and set it off to the side, his expression neutral. Aphrodite blinked as the man pulled up the chair that was previously occupied by an officer, the green hero sat down and folded his hands over the table as he leaned forward. Four-Leaf Clover was an interesting character for a hero; trained by Great Tree- meant to replace the infamous great hero, a man who is strict to the law and upholds the values of the people and the city to the highest degree, and while lacking sorely in basic people reading skills- rumors have it that he’s dating another hero (a lot of people ship Fire Spirit with him). 

The silence was stifling and Aphrodite didn’t like the way the man was studying her face and clothes, like she was naked and on display for him to look at. Her clothes were torn and tattered with cuts which made her look awful, and not to mention that her bruised body didn’t help her appearance look any better. 

When she tried to shift, his jade eyes snapped at her so fast, she froze. Paralyzed in anxiety, Aphrodite didn’t dare move unless the other shifted or sighed sharply under his nose. Neither spoke, the silent tension was mounting, and the musician knew that the camera in the corner of the interrogation room was blinking red- this was recording- and so, she assumed, that the hero was trying to remain professional in a place that wasn’t the Heroes Command. 

Suddenly, the man stood up from the chair; the seat clapped sharply onto the ground- startling Aphrodite to flinch, causing her face to thump in retaliation. “Apologies,” the hero spoke as he picked the chair back up from the ground. The harpist swallowed deeply as she relaxed her body, trying to steer her racing heart from leaping out of her throat and onto the table. “Do you think you have the world fooled?” Four-Leaf Clover asked, eyes sharper and calculating. “What…?” The musician replied with a soft voice. Did… Did she hear him right? There- there was no way that he …

“Let me rephrase: do you think you have the world fooled into supporting this little scene that you so brilliantly orchestrated?”

Aphrodite’s heart dropped. 

“I was in shock,” Aphrodite added, a smile and laugh of disbelief escaped her body despite the restraint through this trip down memory lane. She scoffed as she added bitterly, “I thought he was going to help me. But all I got was him pushing me harder to admit that I created a fake kidnapping.” Sun glances to Ivis She sees how furious the other looked; something to rival the ancient Greek myths of Furies; or perhaps, the Furies were listening in and fueling the lawyer with the righteous anger that they can fill when someone breaks the law. Especially the people who were sworn in to protect the people. 

“I asked him… I told him, “I did not fake my kidnapping,”... And all he did was stare at me.” Aphrodite continued, her chuckles of mocking laughter died down into a broken tone, “He just stared before snapping at me…” The moment that the great hero who was trained by the infamous Great Tree suddenly turned on her, a victim, she thought the world had turned upside down. 

The green hero narrowed his eyes and repeated his question for an upteenth time but he added, “Do not try to get out of this. Now I repeat: do you think you have the world fooled into supporting this little scene that you so brilliantly orchestrated?” The musician tried to inhale a gulp of air, to push her emotions away from her logic and try to reason her way out of this. Aphrodite figured that if she reasoned with the green hero, if she remained logical and calm- then he would see and hopefully side with her in this situation that has turned against her. 

She wants to leave. She wanted to go back home and just lay in bed, forget the day, and just live without having to compromise her safety for the people in the city to use her as a scapegoat. “I did not fake my own kidnapping. I want my lawyer.” Aphrodite says, then crosses her arms over her chest, to try and hide away by curling into a ball, “And I am pleading the fifth.” Four-Leaf Clover stepped away from the table and then leaned on the back of the chair, his breath coming out short and his hands gripped onto the seat with the grip of iron. 

“Do you know what will happen once you leave this room?” Aphrodite didn’t look at the hero, keeping her eyes on the table while she flinched at the rising tone in the hero’s voice, “I hope you know that once you leave this room; you will be locked away. And should I forget to mention that you attacked a hero?” This got the musician to snap, “I was defending my roommate who saved me!” The hero of green yelled back, “ You attacked a hero! Faked a kidnapping! You are not telling the truth .” The musician turned her head and shouted back, “I want to see my lawyer!” Four-Leaf Clover stepped back and sat in the chair, hissing under his breath with his eyes full of fury, “You will not be allowed to leave until I say you can.”

“I tried to fight back. I tried to yell, scream, beg, sobbing at this point that I was innocent. And after some point, he finally just.. Stopped. He stepped aside and said that I would be allowed to make a phone call for someone to pick me up.” The lawyer frowns as Sun watches the expression of Aphrodite shift and break with her voice so softly detailing the last moments of her interactions with the green hero, “Before I left… He grabbed my arm and said, “I will make your life hell. Once I get what I need from your stunt, I will make sure that you are locked in the deepest cell of the Silver Tree Prison and you will forget what sunlight feels like. I will make sure that you rot in that cell and you will never be free.”

The lawyer’s office suddenly got colder. 

Ivis grunted, catching the women’s attention as they turned to their side and picked up the phone, they dialed one button and when they pressed the phone to their head, they asked for someone named “Rhea”. Aphrodite looks at Sun who shrugs. “Inform Rhea to be in my office in fifteen minutes.” Ivis informed then hung up the phone. The silver man turned to the pinkette and leaned on the desk, their voice low and stern, “Aphrodite. Answer me this honestly: if we are successful in filing: would you like to settle or proceed with the trial?”

Sun frowns, mirroring what Aphrodite was thinking. “I… I don’t understand.” The pinkette admits as she looks between the lawyer and Sun. The interpreter jumps to explain, “Ivis is asking if you want to have a settlement or if you want to press for a trial.” Aphrodite blinks and then says, “Trial? But isn’t that for criminals?” Which Ivis nods, “Yes, but in this case, there is a criminal, and that is Four-Leaf Clover, and the police. They refused your right to a lawyer, violated your 5th amendment, and have created an atmosphere where you and your roommates are not safe . Now, there are options to avoid trial; we can find a settlement, push for charges against the hero and the police in specific, or we can push an Expelled Plea .”

Sun raises her eyebrows at the name. She’s heard of the “Expelled Plea” term but she isn’t too familiar with it. But Aphrodite seems to know, based on how she straightened up so fast, she could’ve snapped her spine. “ No- I- I don’t want to push an Expelled Plea! I- I can’t do that-” She panicked. Sun quickly reached over and took Aphrodite’s hand to hold her steady (slightly confused by the sudden panic), her eyes narrowed at Ivis in warning as the lawyer fell back in their chair, “I understand- I understand. But if the Heroes Command and the Police will not cooperate or come to a settlement, we would have to fall on the Expelled Plea as a last resort. I would, also, rather avoid it but if worse comes to worse…”

The pinkette squints her face as if she was in pain as she slumps gently into the sofa, her hand gripping onto Sun’s. The pale interpreter clears her throat to get both their attention, “What is this “Expelled Plea”? I haven’t heard of the term before.” Ivis nods as they gestured to the papers on their desk, “The “Expelled Plea” is a method used by the Defense when an individual is suing the Heroes Command. The use of this plea would be in the hopes that if the case is in favor of the client, then the hero being charged will have their Hero License revoked, they will be essentially “fired” from the Heroes Command, they will be retested at a Facility to assimilate and give an aid if they range as a Destructive, and they will have to pay the client who won the case a monthly payment for the physical, emotional, mental, or temporal plane until either the client is satisfied or if the ex-Hero is unable to make payments and would be sentenced to prison for the remaining about of years that is left over for what they should have paid the client.”

They, then, gestured to Aphrodite, “If Ms. Paradise went with an Expelled Plea and won the case, then Four-Leaf Clover would have to pay her a settlement given by the judge, will be expelled from the Heroes Command and will no longer be able to serve under the Heroes Command, and the hero would have to continuously pay Ms. Paradise until her death, she changes the terms of the settlement, or she is satisfied with the payment, or, if the hero can no longer pay her back and he will serve prison time for… most likely for life.” Sun blinks a few times, spinning her head to look at Aphrodite who looks pale, paler than anything before- as if hearing the consequences of the Expelled Plea made her physically sick. 

And from what Sun is hearing; it would be a career-ending position. If you dreamed of being a hero, then got served with an Expelled Plea, your career of a hero is over. No take backs. That’s that. The end of everything. 

“Why… It seems to be the most financial and least attention-grabbing situation we can afford. Why not go for the Expelled Plea?” Sun inquired. The pinkette turns to her roommate and says, “Because only one Destructives have attempted that and it did not work in his favor.” Ivis nods, their face falling solemn as if they had been a part of the process or been a witness to it. “Who… Who tried to…” Aphrodite shrugs as she responds, “I don’t know his name but he was killed… roughly around the time I was born? I think. My mom told me about the activist that got shot in the head after he made a public appearance after he attempted to fall on the Expelled Plea. His case was the only case that used the Expelled Plea. There hasn’t been one since his case.”

Ivis nods, a once in a lifetime smile perches on their lips, eerily creeping Sun out slightly, “Very good, Aphrodite.” The smile fell as they turned back to the desk of papers and hummed in thought. Their eyes glanced over every piece of paper, probably a few were copies of Sun’s emails if she assumed right, she could barely see over the few items on Ivis’ desk but she could see that there were multiple documents that she can hopefully believe are papers to file the lawsuit or a collection of signed testimony for Sun and Aphrodite to sign at the end of this meeting. 

Ivis turned to Aphrodite and nodded their head down to her legs, “I noticed that you had a bag with you. Are those additional documents?” The pinkette snapped out of whatever phase of dissociation she was falling into and she reached to pull up the bag, “Oh- oh yeah, Sun… Sun thought it would be smart to give you my recovery photos from the bruises…” Ivis nods and reaches over to take the folder and pauses, their eyes staring straight on the small doll in the bag. “And who is hiding in your bag?” Sun froze as Aphrodite fell into a frozen state, her eyes widening as if she forgot about Jester being in her bag. She looked over to Sun and then took out the doll to show the lawyer who tilted their head with the expression almost … thoughtful and curious.

“Oh… This is… This is my roommate’s doll. He- he made me take him to help me in case I panic or I need to be distracted…” Ivis nods. They glance to their side and then they reach under their desk, pulling a drawer back, and pulled out a large golden bracelet. It’s about the size a jade bracelet would be made, it was thick and shiny, made to slip through the large wrist of the lawyer as they turned the bracelet over to show the girls, “I, too, have something to help me feel calm. It was a gift from a beloved of mine. Unfortunately, I was unable to pay back my beloved partner before he was killed. So whenever I feel overwhelmed or uneasy, I simply wear the bracelet and I feel better.” The honeyed-eyed stared at the bracelet then glanced up to Aphrodite, “It’s good to have things that make us feel better about the world’s issues. I typically find myself wearing this bracelet when I have to appear in court. It’s like a… reassurance that my dear beloved is on my side. Watching me.”

Aphrodite smiles as she hugs the doll, giggling softly. It makes Sun find a small smile fall on her lips. It’s been some time since the dinner with the spicy seafood broil; during the time from that dinner to the meeting currently, the pinkette had giggled on small occasions. Cici and Radley try to get her to giggle when they can, but like their jokes, it doesn’t land all the time. 

Now though… Seeing the musician smile and hug the bag with the lawyer placing their bracelet back under their desk, it made Sun feel better about the future. Perhaps, everything will be better after this all blows over. That feeling of relief fell over her shoulders, she let herself slip from the stoic and cold mask, allowing herself to slip her true emotions out of its cold confines. It seems to spread to Aphrodite who turns to Sun and smiles just a little wider. 

Ivis opens the folder and their expression deepens into a frown as they look through the photos, then noticed a small blue sticky note on the side that said in big bold letters, “ POLICE TOOK MUGSHOTS!!!!” When Ivis glanced to the computer screen on their right to see a notification from Rhea pop up, she would be coming in about eight minutes. Ivis nods and turns to the two women, putting on their small smiles as they bow their head, “Ms. Paradise, Sun, I will be in contact with both of you in the future and I will let you know what options we can take.” Both women stood and shook their hand. When Sun shakes their hand, she quickly adds her two cents into the conversation, “Thank you for this. I can’t thank you enough.” Ivis nods as they shake firmly, “Of course. I’m more than happy to help. I’ll keep in contact with you and Aphrodite in the future.”

Sun feels her soul settle for the first time since the atrocious festival. Her mind reflected that while, yes, Ivis was very blunt and rather intrusive about her aid and her past- this meeting has earned them her trust. All she wants is to fulfill the wish of helping Aphrodite feel happy again. She’s not herself when she’s out of the house, she’s not safe when the world is in a frenzy to take her, and with the help of this lawyer, perhaps, Aphrodite will be happy again and the interpreter will be able to see the pinkette smile once more. 

As Sun and Aphrodite leave, Ivis sits in their chair and sighs deeply. Their blacked hands reach up and pinch the bridge of their nose as they sigh, the memories start to roll in as they try to push out the flashing images of blue hair and a golden eye winking at them as the man dances around them. The night was full of rain, his face is covered in stars as the vigilante spins and laughs under the rain- confusing the dragon as they try to understand why this blue-and-white person is laughing and dancing around them like the world wasn’t watching them in the dead of night. 

Then the images shift to a scene where the rain pelts on their back as a gravestone lays before them; cracked and only started to become covered in greenery. The name is etched into the stone but there are no fresh flowers for the father who lost his life protecting the only thing he cared about after the birth of his first and second son. It filled the dragon with such rage to see the tombstone abandoned for so long but they couldn’t blame the kin of the man- they have been missing from their eyes for a long time. But still… The other two guardians could have at least dropped by to show the boys the old grave where the man of great academics is buried. 

Ivory glances back over to the files on their desk and hum. They wanted to take the jump to do the Expelled Plea; there was more than enough evidence for them to use to justify the use of the plea, but at the same time, they are more than aware of what consequences that can come of the aftermath if the plea is used to put Four-Leaf Clover into the metaphorical grave. But they see this as justified. 

Titus would agree so, and even when the two of them barely agreed on anything, the recluse would’ve at least agreed that this case should be submitted as an Expelled Plea to the main title of the lawsuit. But … then again, this would give them more time; they need more time for Apollo to collect more evidence and hopefully with Rhea, she’ll be able to find what they need. And hopefully, the police didn’t try to cover their tracks. Especially since they know the amount of trouble they will get into if they try to cover for the green hero. 

A round of knocks came to their doors and Rhea popped in without a care in the mind. She bounced to the sofa and poured herself a cup of tea, regardless of what type it was. “Ello sibling! What can I do for you???” She inquired as she jumped onto the sofa chair, took the long cold tea and sipped the cup while wagging her purplish-garnet tail with her cerulean eyes cresting with her wide smile. Ivory turns to the younger sibling and hands her the folder full of Aphrodite’s healing face and additional pictures with the notes, “I want you to find the mugshots, the videos, and snapshots of when this woman was taken to the police station about a month and a half ago. Get me everything that the police and by extension, the Heroes Command has tried to cover up with Four-Leaf Clover. Leave nothing untouched.” 

Rhea sets her cup down and looks at the photos, already zeroed in on the sticky note and cheerily hopping off the sofa to start walking back to the doors, “I’ll have those for you in a week! See ya!” Then the pomegranate pink sister was out of the doors before the ivory white dragon could say anything more. The dragon sighed as they looked over the city; the cityscape was beautiful at certain times of the day, their most favorite time was sunset; where the sun sits the on the top of the buildings, when the oranges and reds kissing the blue setting sky, and the moon starts her journey to the sky and dot the sky with constellations and diamond stars. It’s the best moment they have when they look over the city. It makes them feel good to see nature's beauty still prominent in the city. 

They heard their phone ring and they picked it up to hear Apollo on the other side of the phone, already complaining about Pono trying to burn their mango garden for the fifth time this week. 

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The eyes on the apartment buzzed with life, edging a migraine into their skull as they paused their hand’s pathway to pop a dumpling into their mouth. They were sitting in their sky-rise apartment at their glass table with the documents and emails sent over to them. Off to the side were their bank statements and on the top of the pile was a statement with a charge for someone that turned up useless. The private investigator brought nothing to them and now, they still had nothing. The best the investigator got for them was that the youngest brother was once in the Navy but was honorably discharged after an incident got his leg amputated in the middle of a battle. 

The eyes by the apartment bugged them again, forcing the dragon to snap their eyes shut and focus their consciousness to equal the eyes. Their eyes that float around them are connected to their consciousness and when they focus their attention on the eyes, then they can see through the eyes and see what can be so important for them to notify them. 

Since placing their eyes on the apartment, they have received very little notification about any dangers that might come around the roommates. Since their last meeting with Sun and to this current one, they have discovered that Sun and her female companion were rooming with three other people. Sal Hollows was an interesting person to observe; silent and only communicating through sign language, and then wielding a weapon such as a sword for an aid made the dragon do a double-take. Then there was Radley Yaolt- what a beast of a man he was; large and brutish, yet so gentle and playful with the other roommates if they allowed it, it reminded Ivory of Pono a little bit, they would probably get along in spars if the two were in the mood for it. 

The ivory white dragon watched with sharpened eyes on the two males while frustratingly, unable to catch the final roommate. Only catching names like; “Blueberry”, “Blue”, “Sapphire”, and a more common mockery of a nickname blessed by Radley, “Blueberry Bitch”. Ivory scoffed at the name at first; a rather blunt and welcoming name for the roommate who suspiciously missed Ivory’s floating eyes (yet again, they’ve been pulling the eyes out only at night to supervise the apartment for any unwanted guests and while he’s caught shadows, he’s been unable to see who is causing the shadows). 

In the present, a blue Kia Soul arrives at the front of the apartment and Aphrodite leaves the vehicle with some hesitance, most likely looking around to make sure that she was safe from the eye of the public, and then she leaves the car. She rounds the back and opens the deck to show a recent trip of grocery shopping. The door to their apartment opens and Radley exits with his hair damp (evident from taking a shower) and as he stomps down the steps, yelling some type of Spanish at the two roommates, Ivory sees a head of blue finally leave the car. 

‘Ahhh… That’s where the name comes from,’ they think annoyed. It should’ve been obvious that the nicknames would have been an association with a person with blue hair (dyed or natural). The blue-haired roommate was saying something to Radley as he approached the other, the historian hooked his arm around the smaller male and started to strangle him with his arm. It causes Sal and Sun to come out and shout at the taller male to let the smaller one go and help Aphrodite with the bags that were full of spicy items that made Ivory’s stomach queasy. So far, the only thing that the eyes found of interest was the safety of their client and her roommates. Which was a relief for the lawyer. 

But just as they were about to pull out from their eyes and give their mind a rest from the rising migraine edging into the corners of their eyes, they saw the face of the blue-haired roommate. 

And felt their whole being freeze. 

No… It- It couldn’t be… It can’t…

That’s not possible. 

That can’t be him. 

Ivory saw him-

They watched the pole go straight through his chest and watched the Tree Hero race so fast to the earth, they thought that he broke the earth below. 

It can’t be him.

Ivory knows. Ivory knows that he can’t be alive. 

They watched the life leave his eyes; those sun and sky claimed eyes-

Wait…

Ivory peered closer: studying the two different blue eyes the little swirl in the hair that resembled him so much, and the hair that is just two shades lighter than Sage’s-

Oh…

Oh…

Oh- hohohohohohohohoho-

You stupid, stupid HERO-

That brainless RECLUSE-

Ivory stared at the blueberry-haired male as he rounded around his car and started to unload the car. Laughing and smiling at the others who were causing a commotion outside (odd that no one is coming out to tell them to be quiet). Ivory felt their chest constrict and their claws poke from their glamor, the flurry of emotions that they buried so far into their mind of a white void that they believed that no one would be able to break through their barriers again. 

( Not in the way that Sage had… )

Ivory watched the near carbon copy of Sage move around, laugh and jest with the roommates who laughed or tried to end his antics by chasing him up the stairs. The eyes zoomed to the other side of the apartment, trying to catch another glimpse- a much closer glimpse- of the carbon copy. Ivory wasn’t sure if what they were seeing was real. 

They barely recall the baby photos that Sage showed them on a star-lit night. The baby had his eyes closed while Ivis stared at the sleeping face with indifference, the vigilante was leaning on their shoulder with a phone lighting up both faces as he swiped through baby photo after baby photo. Ivory never got to meet the baby. Or the next baby. Ivis broke his trust and as a result, Ivory never met the children but they were able to commit the faces to their memory. They remember making up their mistakes to the vigilante and promising to better cooperate with Titus who discovered the dragon chatting (and failing horribly with flirting) with the vigilante. Both wanted to strangle the other unless Sage intervened. 

(And that’s mentioning what the Tree Hero thought about them dating the vigilante).

Seeing this man, the carbon copy of someone they lost so long ago, it made their interest piqued. What happened to him? Did Great Tree raise him to never know about Sage? Did that hero trap the boys in an isolating cage in the name of a “hero”? Does this child know about Sage? Does he even remember him?

Did the recluse ever tell the boys about their father? Did they live in the manor that the vigilante stayed in? What about their schooling? Did they have any friends? Lovers? Where is the younger brother now? What were their names?

Questions and more questions filled their mind as their eyes focused on the back windows- catching small glimpses of a pink room and a room full of purple items. Ivory grunts as the migraine starts to ebb closer to their brain, forcing a massive thumping to take place in the front of their mind and a steady ache behind their eyes. They want to linger a little longer. They need to stay- just to confirm that what they are seeing is not a lie. Please don’t let it be a lie that is being played so cruelly on them . 

A small pulse of alarm shoots through the right side of their brain, forcing the consciousness to shift eyes as they followed the alarm- a moment of stress pools from the mind of the dragon as they suddenly shift to the next eyes; the movement akin to spinning around on an amusement park ride and getting off dizzy. As the dragon focused their attention the best as they could on what spiked the alarm, they blinked as they watched a shadow move across the shadows of the other apartments. 

A flash of silver takes the interest of the lawyer. The dragon carefully takes the reins of the eye and follows from the high rise of the trees, slowly peaking and zipping from branch to branch, keeping an eye on the silver blur that dances in the shadows like it was meant to be blended into the darkness. But with the sun just setting, the oranges and yellows slowly lowered to a night sky to bless the day with rest; the dragon was able to catch a sight worth the headache. 

A hero . 

More specially, Silver Faerie. They haven’t had many interactions with the glass-winged hero but they recall seeing many of his great deeds being welcomed and hailed as an “upcoming and rising hero the city will cherish”. The dragon watches with intensity as the silver armor gleams in small cracks of the sun hitting the body, the wings are tucked tightly to the back as the hero scales the fire escape and only slows his movements as he approaches the side of the roommates’ apartment. 

Ivory doesn’t like this. They narrow the eye to watch as the silver hero edges away from the fire escape and gets closer to the (thankfully) closed windows of the roommates. The golden eyes watch as the hero moves past the pink room, the painfully white room, the room covered in curtains, and then the room full of purple items, but when the hero reaches a room full of blue; he pauses to slowly peek in. Ivory tilts their head as the silver hero reaches for something behind and pulls out an item too small for Ivory to see but it shines in the glint of the armor. 

A gift of some sort. Most likely for the blueberry roommate. The golden eye blinks as Ivis takes notes, already filing the images they see into their printing system, and distantly, the printer makes a whirling noise as their power meddles with the technology to print what they see. The silver hero soon enough takes flight and leaves the window that was open alone. 

Ivory shouldn’t do this. They should let it be. 

Typically, they would rather be left out of hero business (unless it was to sue the Heroes Command) but this… This was too interesting. 

The golden eye is lowered to the window, slow and steady as it looks over the window sill to see what was left behind in the room. To the slight disappointment of the dragon, it was a small bracelet of sapphires and metal chains with charms. There were only four charms; a needle, a drama/tragedy mask, a paintbrush, and then the last charm was just a circular pendant with a single name inscribed in the metal, “Cici”.

Ivory felt their body grow cold. 

They were suddenly flung from the eye as they stood straight from their chair. The metal seat clangs loudly on the tile floor as the silver man swiftly leaves the table with the cold dumplings, their long legs carrying them to the room where a massive nest of pillows and cushiony blankets rested around, in the depths of this nest was a small arrangement of items that they have kept of the centuries they have lived. Most are from their siblings; even when they all have drifted apart, the ivory-scaled dragon kept the gifts they treasured closely. 

And in this nest was a small photo without a crease to see; a photo of a vigilante who has long been dead but only lives in the lives of his sons who barely know him. Those yellow and blue eyes capture the dragon’s attention as they lift the photo, they quickly turn the page over to see a small note scribbled on the back by the man himself, “One day- you’ll meet Cici! I hope your trip is fun!”

Unsigned because Ivis already knew who left it for them in their suitcase the night prior to them leaving for a plane. The dragon’s blackened claws carefully turn over the photo and trace a sharp claw over the apple of the man’s cheek, as if they were caressing the face of a long lost … Ivory’s honeyed eyes close as they picture the man of blue hair that stepped out of the car, seeing the small charm with a name that only they know is tied to a set of brothers that they have been searching for a decade . 

It seems that they have a lead…

But how did Cici get his wires crossed and tied up as the silver fae? Why would the silver hero want to sneak into a room of someone that he doesn't know?

Unless… The blue roommate and the silver hero know one another…

Ivory leaves their room as they enter the room to reach the printer which displayed the photo taken by their eye. They look over the photo and squint at the silver mask that covers the face of the hero; if only they could get a better look at their face… The dragon leans on their left leg and sighs sharply. Something was going on…

There was a small ping from their counter, the dragon had left the computer on the counter as they wanted to get a break from the blue screen that started to make the words on the email and paperwork look like one big blur. Apollo and Rhea teased them that they should get some glasses and in all honesty, they are half-tempted to do that, these computer screens were worsening their vision from all the squinting and staring at the damned blue screens. (Do the boys’ remember their father wearing a monocle?) The dragon comes around and leans very close to see an email thread between their associates finalizing the court order and the lawsuit was ready to be sent out. 

The stark white dragon hums as their nails delicately place the photo on the countertop and then respond to the chain with their nails clicking on the keyboard with swift precision. Their email went through and as the honey eyes looked over the picture, a sudden thought came to their mind. A cruel and dark smile full of feral joy fell over their face.

A warning should be good enough for Great Tree. 

If the head of the Heroes Command finds out that one of their heroes is potentially stalking a civilian, perhaps that will make the deal the Heroes Command will deal with that much sweeter. 

The dragon is swiftly able to find the email that Great Tree had given them a long time ago; it was only used when they were working together (for once upon a time) against an organization that was targeting the Heroes Command’s newest rookies. The email was untouched since that time, so when the email address was pulled up, Ivis attached the photo of the silver hero sneaking into the window of the blue room of a civilian, they added only one string of a sentence with a smile so crooked, it would send anyone into a heart attack.

“Not keeping an eye on your apprentices, are you, Mills?”