elsewhere...

“And still, after all this time, the sun never says to the earth, ‘You owe me.’ Look what happens with a love like that—it lights the whole sky.” — Hafiz

[quinnelopee]

Is that ANNA SAWAI? No, that’s just QUINNELOPE KIRISAME. They were born on 27/04/1994 and died on 31/10/2020. They are a GHOST (RAIN FAIRY) living in Northknot Town. The ARE able to interact with the living realm and they WORKED as a DAYCARE WORKER. Some say they're GENTLE and NURTURING, but I’ve heard others say they're OVERPROTECTIVE and SELF-SACRIFICING. When you think of HER, don’t you think of LAUGHTER THAT SOUNDS LIKE WIND CHIMES IN A SOFT STORM, GLASSES HALF FULL & BARE FEET ON DEW-DAMPED GRASS?

Name: Quinnelope Ameonna Kirisame Pronunciation: KWIN-nell-oh-pee ah-mee-OH-nuh kih-ree-SAH-meh Nickname(s): Nellie, Quinn (by Noah only) Birthday: April 27th, 1994 Age: 26 (if alive, 31) Zodiac Sign: Taurus Sun Gender: Cis-Female Pronouns: She/Her Species: Ghost/Rain Fairy Orientation: Straight Occupation: Unemployed Faceclaim: Anna Sawai

HEADCANONS

She can’t touch flowers without them blooming— even as a ghost. It’s the last trace of her rain fairy magic

Her favorite sound is distant thunder. It feels like home

She visits her adoptive dads in their dreams, leaving faint watermarks on the pillow where she sat beside them

Her reflection flickers between human and fairy. In moments of strong emotion, her wings shimmer faintly behind her

She carries a small locket—ghost-light silver—containing a photo of her, Noah, and the daycare kids. It appeared with her when she crossed back over

Her laugh can shift the air pressure in a room. A tiny change, like the moment before rain

She never fully forgave herself for “leaving” Keiko behind, even though it wasn’t her choice

Ghost animals like her. Birds perch on her shoulder. Cats curl up in her lap

She still wears her old cheer hoodie sometimes. It smells like detergent and memory

Right before she died, Quinnelope saw her sister on a televised MMA event hosted in Northknot and was about to try to reconnect with her

APPEARANCE

Quinnelope looks like the kind of person the morning light was made for—soft edges, quiet beauty, the sort that sneaks up on you rather than demands attention. Her hair, black with a whisper of chestnut warmth, falls in glossy waves that frame her heart-shaped face. Her eyes, almond-shaped and deep brown, hold a glimmer that’s equal parts mischief and melancholy—like she’s always halfway between laughter and remembering something she can’t quite say aloud. Her skin carries a golden undertone that catches sunlight like honey, and there’s usually a faint flush to her cheeks, as if she’s perpetually caught between dancing and blushing. She dresses with an effortless sort of charm—flowy skirts, oversized sweaters, little hints of sparkle tucked in like secrets. Everything about her feels intentional yet unforced, a living daydream with dirt under her nails from trying to keep the world blooming

PERSONALITY

Quinnelope’s the kind of soul who could make even ghosts believe in warmth again. She’s soft in a way the world rarely rewards—gentle, giving, endlessly patient—but there’s quiet strength beneath that tenderness. The kind that holds everyone else together even when she’s unraveling inside. She moves through life like a light drizzle: calm, steady, healing if you let her be. She’s nurturing to a fault, always putting others first, and sometimes mistakes self-sacrifice for love. But she’s also laughter and sunshine—open-hearted, playful, with a knack for finding beauty in the smallest things. She believes people can be better, even when they’ve proven otherwise, and she’s stubborn in her hope, which makes her both radiant and heartbreakingly human. Quinnelope is the embodiment of soft resilience—a spirit of rain that refuses to stop falling, even after death

AESTHETIC

sunlight caught in gauzy curtains - the faint hum of a record player spinning something old and sweet - freckles kissed by summer and memory - chamomile tea steaming beside an open journal - the scent of rain tangled in her hair - fingertips tracing constellations on fogged glass - a soft laugh muffled in knit sleeves - polaroids curling at the edges, taped to her mirror - honey dripping slow over toast she forgot to eat - rose quartz warm against her collarbone - wind chimes whispering secrets from the porch - ballet flats left by the door, soles worn thin - the quiet click of a locket closing - sunlight pooling across linen sheets - the echo of children’s laughter from a nearby park - watercolor stains on her fingertips - daffodils in a chipped mug on the sill - her reflection in the window, half here, half somewhere else - a candle flickering out just as she makes a wish - the gentle ache of love that never really left

CONNECTIONS

Best Friend A florist or flower fairy who was her friend in life and still leaves flowers at her grave—and who now brings them directly to her door again. Their friendship becomes the soft heartbeat of her second life

The Former Babysitting Kid A teen or young adult she used to babysit back in New York — the one who thought she hung the moon. They’ve grown up now, and seeing her again (still twenty-something, unchanged) hits them like nostalgia and grief mixed together

The Neighbor Upstairs Lives in her apartment building (or near wherever she’s haunting now). Brings her plants, helps fix things, insists she shouldn’t just “float through life” (pun intended). Maybe they don’t even believe in ghosts at first

BIOGRAPHY

tw: childhood separation, death, murder

“There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.”

Quinnelope Amane was born to a single mother after her father left long before she ever took her first breath. She never knew him, but that was okay—her mother met someone new who loved her like she was his own, even after Quinnelope’s little sister, Keiko, came along. Their parents were the kind of couple who tried—who worked hard, loved their girls with everything they had, but could never quite keep their heads above water.

They lived in an area far too expensive for what they earned, stretching every dollar until it tore. Eventually, the house was repossessed by the bank, and reality hit cruelly hard. Faced with the choice between holding on and dragging their daughters through instability, they made the impossible decision—to give them up, believing it was kinder to let them go somewhere safe and steady than to watch them grow up in poverty. When the adoption process began, the sisters were separated, each sent to different families.

“Some people are so much sunshine to the square inch.”

Adopted by two loving fathers at the age of seven, Quinnelope grew up in New York—a city too bright to notice a fairy hiding in plain sight. She was the quintessential golden girl: A/B student, dance and cheer team darling, teacher’s pet, helper of everyone. She adored Broadway lights and the way stories shimmered on stage, always ready to perform or guide younger kids to find their own rhythm. And as time passed, Quinnelope found herself thinking less and less about her birth family.

She went to college because her dads hoped she would, but her heart wasn’t in it. With their blessing, she dropped out and found joy working as a nanny, caring for children. One family introduced her to the supernatural world that hummed just beneath New York’s pulse—and soon, she was telling her dads she needed to carve her own path and followed a new friend north, to the mist-wrapped city of Northknot.

“Love is how you stay alive, even after you are gone.”

There, she found purpose at the local daycare center, and love in Noah, a young police officer with fire in his eyes. It was love at first sight. For years they built a life together—simple, genuine, the kind of love story that makes the air softer. Until the Faction ended it. Her body was found in the woods, her story cut short. But Quinnelope didn’t stop existing. From the Other Side, she watched Noah—saw the ring he never got to give her, the way grief hollowed him out.

When the veil between worlds thinned, she hesitated. Should she come back? Would her return heal him, or break him all over again? After endless nights of rain, she chose to risk it. Love, after all, was the only thing that ever made her feel alive. Now, Quinnelope walks again under Northknot’s gray skies—gentle, nurturing, patient, and endlessly kind. Some say she’s sunshine in human form, though even sunlight can ache when it falls on old wounds.

[immcrtalsx]

Valentine's Day Starter Memes - @quinnelopee

“Where are we going to put a bear that big?” Noah asked, already knowing he was going to cave and get it for her. He laughed, "It is kind of cute I guess."

[quinnelopee]

Quinnelope’s smile turned wicked-sweet, like she’d been waiting for this exact moment. “On the bed,” she said instantly, like it was obvious. Then she stepped closer, tugging lightly at his sleeve. “Or… we could put it in the passenger seat and let it ride home like it’s our kid.” Her eyes flicked up to his, softening. “C’mon, Noah. It’s Valentine’s Day. Please...”

[quinnelopee]

Quinnelope lingered at Noah’s side while the room hummed with clinking glasses and soft laughter, the kind that felt warm instead of loud. Candlelight caught in the champagne flutes, in the gold-threaded details of the decor—and for a second, it all blurred into something else entirely. Not this wedding. Theirs. She could see it so clearly it almost knocked the breath out of her. Noah at the altar, nerves tucked behind that soft, steady smile. Herself walking toward him, not as a ghost or a miracle or a maybe—but as his wife. The thought hit her like a bell rung deep in her chest. She smiled before she realized she was doing it. Her fingers slid into his, grounding herself back in the now. She leaned in, voice low and just for him. “I just pictured our wedding,” she admitted, eyes bright with something between mischief and awe. “And for the record? You cry first.” A beat. Softer now. “I can’t believe I actually get to do this with you.” @immcrtalsx

[quinnelopee]

New Year's Eve 2025 - Elidi-Henderson Wedding

[immcrtalsx]

"Did you expect me to dance with someone else?" Noah asked, raising an eyebrow right back at her, "Is that so?" he asked, pulling away from her slightly but holding onto her hand to spin her under his arm and pull her back to him again, "As if I'd ever let you from my side to dance with anyone else," he whispered to her as he kissed the side of her head, right by her ear and started swaying to the music.

[quinnelopee]

Quinnelope let the spin take her, turquoise skirts flaring like a ripple of Atlantian light before she came right back into his orbit—because of course she did. Of course she always would. “Oh, trust me,” she murmured, breath warm against his jaw as she settled into the sway with him, “if you had tried dancing with someone else, I’d have haunted their shoes off.” A teasing smirk tugged at her mouth, but the glow beneath her skin softened, went tender. “But you didn’t. You never did.” She let her forehead brush his, eyes half-lidded, voice dipping into something that felt like a secret carved in stone. “Five years, Noah, and you’re still the only one I want stepping on my toes.” Her fingers curled tighter at his shoulder, pulling him just a little closer, like the music wasn’t the thing keeping them moving—he was.

[immcrtalsx]

The kiss breathed life back into him. Life that he thought he would never have again, that he had lost five years ago. Even if she was not alive with warmth anymore, he filled with it as the reality cemented in him. She was here. She was back. He didn't even care that it was raining, that cold didn't bother him as they kissed. He almost laughed at her words, "When are you going to get it, Quinn?" he asked, "I would, will, choose you. In every lifetime, this one and the next, until my last breath," he kissed her again, this time softly, "It's not about owing you anything. I just can't imagine a life where I don't love you."

Noah's face broke out into another grin as she said that she wanted it. He didn't have any doubts, of course, but he thought she might wait since she had only just gotten back. Without hesitation, he unclasped the chain from his neck and took the ring from it. He lowered himself down onto one knee, not caring about the wet ground beneath them, "You deserve a proper proposal," he stated, holding the ring out and smiling up at her, "Will you be stubborn with me for the rest of my life and the life we share afterwards on the other side and marry me?" he asked.

[quinnelopee]

The rain didn’t matter. The world didn’t matter. It all went quiet—like even the storm was holding its breath—when he dropped to one knee. For a second Quinnelope just… froze. The kind of still that happens right before lightning hits. She’d pictured this moment a thousand times when she was alive, in that soft, foolish way people do when they’re young and in love and think the universe is kind. She’d pictured it a thousand more after she died, in the aching spaces where hope shouldn’t have been able to survive. But nothing—nothing—had ever felt like this. Her hand flew to her mouth, then to her heart, then back to her mouth because what the hell was she supposed to do with feelings this big? The glow under her skin flared bright enough to shimmer in the rain. For a beat she couldn’t speak. For a beat she just stared at him—this man who had loved her past death, past time, past the brutal edges of a world that should’ve broken him.

“Noah…” Her voice cracked on his name, soft and awestruck like she was tasting it new. She lowered her hands and let out a wet, breathless laugh. “God, you’re unbelievable.” She knelt, too—right there in the mud with him, dress hem soaking, rain clinging to her hair like diamonds—and she took his face in both hands. “I spent five years wanting this,” she confessed, forehead pressing to his. “Wanting you. Wanting the life we never got to build. And I thought it was gone forever. I thought I was gone forever.” Her thumb traced his cheek. “But you—” her breath trembled, “—you made a promise with every breath you kept taking after I couldn’t. You carried us both.” She leaned back just enough to look him dead in the eyes, stormlight flickering in hers. “So yes,” she whispered, voice breaking into a smile that could’ve resurrected her all over again. “Yes, Noah Cross. I’ll marry you.” Then she kissed him—rain, mud, magic, everything—like eternity had been waiting for them to catch up.

[immcrtalsx]

When her fingers chased the chain around his neck, Noah pulled the end of it out from underneath his shirt. The ring he had gotten earlier in his relationship than he cared to admit. The one that screamed Quinnelope and was the perfect fit. One of his biggest regrets was waiting so long to ask, "It's yours if you want it. There is no one else I would give it to," he said, smiling softly at her. His eyes were full of warmth and love and a happiness that he doubted anyone had seen in a long time, not since her death.

Tears fell freely now. To know that she had heard him broke his heart all over again. The pain of losing her was excruciating. It was like he had lost a part of him: a limb, a lung, his heart. Something he needed to truly live. But her? She heard him, saw him grieve and could do nothing to help him. It would have been torture for him to be in that position, "I love you," he replied. It felt good to say it to her face and not to her gravestone, "I never stopped," he repeated her words back before finally closing the gap between their lips and kissing her in a way that he never thought he would again.

[quinnelopee]

The moment his lips touched hers, something ancient and electric ripped through her—like her soul snapped back into the shape it had been missing since the night she died. Rain blurred everything except him. Except the way he kissed her like he’d been drowning for five years and she was finally, finally air. Quinnelope kissed him back without hesitation, fingers curling into the fabric at his shoulders, pulling him closer, deeper, like she could anchor herself to his heartbeat alone. When she finally broke for breath she didn’t need, her forehead dropped against his, her voice wrecked and soft and impossibly full. “Noah…” Her hand trembled as she cupped his cheek, thumb brushing a tear that vanished into her palm like it belonged there. “You waited.” Her gaze flicked down to the ring again—her ring—and this time she didn’t just touch it; she held it, held him, held the life they almost had. The glow under her skin pulsed like a second heartbeat. “Even when I wasn’t here to choose you back… You didn’t owe me that.”

She swallowed hard, the words scraping out of her like they’d been trapped behind her ribs for too long. “I saw you,” she admitted, voice barely more than breath. “After. On the other side. I saw what losing me did to you. I wanted to come back so badly it hurt.” Her laugh cracked, wet and shaky. Her palm slid down to rest over his chest, right above the ring where it pressed into his skin. “If you’re offering this…” she whispered, lifting the chain slightly, eyes shining like stormlight churning in deep water, “I’m not going to turn it down.” She stepped even closer—if that was possible—her body melting into his, her words a vow threaded through the rain. “I want it, Noah. I want you. In any life they let me have.” Then, with a small, trembling smile that held five years of longing and a future she never thought she’d touch again, she rose on her toes and kissed him once more—slower this time, certain and sure. “A love that outlasted death,” she breathed against his lips. “Guess we’re really that stubborn.”

[mcnstercus]

Emerie ran her hands through her hair as her players left to the locker room. When she her the voice, she looked up. "Nellie? Oh my God, how are you...? What are you...? Does Noah...?" She couldn't quite finish her sentences.

[quinnelopee]

Quinnelope’s laugh came soft, breathy—like she was afraid a louder one might shatter the moment. “One question at a time, coach,” she teased gently, stepping fully into the spill of gym lights. The glow slipped right through her, but she stood solid enough. “I’m… here,” she said finally, letting the word settle. “Not alive, not gone. Just—here.” Her gaze softened at the mention of Noah. “Yeah. I went to him first.” A beat, warm and aching. “He deserved that.” Then her eyes flicked back to Emerie, a wry little smile breaking through the emotion. “And apparently you forgot how to breathe without me yelling at you to.”

[mcnstercus]

Sabrina jumped, dropping her mug all over the floor, "Dammit, don't scare a woma—" her sentence was cut short when she spun and realized who had spoken to her. "Nellie?" she said. "Oh my God."

[quinnelopee]

Quinnelope winced at the crash, guilt blooming soft and immediate. “Sorry—sorry,” she murmured, lifting both hands like she could undo the spill with an apology alone. But when Sabrina said her name, really said it, everything in her stilled. She stepped closer, rainlight pooling gently at her feet. “Yeah,” she breathed, voice wobbling around a laugh that wasn’t fully steady. “It’s me. In the… ghost-flesh.” Her smile tilted, small and aching. “You always did say I had terrible timing.”

[immcrtalsx]

Noah was sure he was getting strange looks whenever he laughed and smiled. He wasn't sure he'd ever felt this happy or at least not for several years. Did anyone even remember what he was like when he was happy? It suddenly felt like an unfamiliar feeling but at the same time, everything was clicking into place. He smiled at her, full of love and warmth, "I might be a bit rusty. I was lacking a dance partner for a while," he commented with a teasing lilt to his tone, "But I'm sure I remember the basics," he added. As if he could even say no to her anyway.

[quinnelopee]

Quinnelope arched a brow, squeezing his hand just enough to make the answer ripple through her like a spark. “Rusty, huh?” she echoed, stepping back only far enough to fold into the start of the dance—one hand at his shoulder, the other still laced with his. “Good thing I’m an excellent teacher.” Her grin curved into something softer, almost reverent. “Besides… I waited five years for you to spin me around again, Noah.” She leaned in, voice dipping warm and wicked against his ear. “Don’t make me regret resurrecting your dance card.”

[immcrtalsx]

When he felt her cheek, Noah could have collapsed. She was real. He let out a breath of relief or maybe of disbelief. He wasn't quite sure which. Whatever it was, within a second, he closed the gap further just as she did. He laughed then, laughed at what she said, "Baby, loving you is as easy as breathing, sometimes easier," His other hand reached up, snaking around the back of her neck to keep her close. He inhaled. She was here. Maybe not alive but she was here and realer than anything.

The rain started to fall harder but he didn't care. All Noah could think, see, hear, smell... was her. His forehead rested on top of hers as she leaned against him. Her own forehead was pressed against the chain around his neck, where her engagement ring hung, the one he never got to give her. He could feel it digging into him but it was only a reminder that this was real. He lifted her head to look at him, "Thank you for coming back to me," he whispered. Come back to me had been the last thing he'd said to her, when he saw her lying dead, before he was dragged away. He wondered if she'd seen that.

[quinnelopee]

Quinnelope felt the words hit her like a wave—warm, wrecking, pulling her under in the best and worst ways. Baby. God, she’d forgotten how his voice wrapped around the word, how it softened every sharp edge she carried. His hand at the back of her neck anchored her, pulling her closer until the rain couldn’t figure out where she ended and he began. When he lifted her face, she let him. She always had. Even in death, some things didn’t change. Her eyes flicked down for just a second—just enough to see the flash of silver resting against his chest, her ring catching a sliver of stormlight. It punched the air right out of her. She reached up, slow like she was afraid the moment might break, and let her fingers ghost over the chain. The metal hummed faintly under her touch.

His thanks tangled with the memory of his last plea—come back to me—and she felt it echo through her like a bell rung too close to bone. “I heard you,” she said, soft but certain. Her thumb brushed a raindrop from his cheek, though another fell right after it. “I heard everything. Your voice… it followed me. Even when the rest of it didn’t.” She swallowed, stepping in until there was no space left between them, until she could feel the heat of him through the cold of her. “I didn’t know if I’d ever make it back. I didn’t know if I should.” Her breath trembled, but her hands didn’t when they cupped his jaw. “But I couldn’t stay gone. Not from you.” The storm thickened around them, but her voice steadied. “I came back because you called me,” she whispered, touching her forehead to his again. “And because I still love you. I never stopped.”

[quinnelopee]

The bass from the dance floor thumped like a borrowed heartbeat—too alive, too loud, too much—and Quinnelope almost laughed at how absurd it all felt. A ghost at a wedding, champagne-glass shimmer and candlelight flickering through her like she was part of the décor. But then she saw him—Jameson—in all his chaotic glory, half hidden behind a Ghostface mask, pretending to scare guests between sips of something amber. God, she’d missed that grin. The way he tilted his head just before saying something that would make her laugh. She hesitated at the edge of the crowd, smoothing the hem of her Kida skirt, the silk glowing faintly under the lights—like the ocean itself had followed her here. When she finally stepped forward, the air rippled around her, soft and electric, like the veil itself was holding its breath. “Careful, Doc,” she said, voice carrying a teasing lilt that didn’t quite hide the tremor beneath it. “You might give someone an actual heart attack with that mask.” Her smile came slow and aching, like a memory rediscovered. “Or maybe just me. You always were good at that.” A pause, softer now. “Hi, James. It’s been a while.” @fikazephyr

[quinnelopee]

The gym smelled the same—floor wax, sweat, echoes of laughter bouncing off the rafters like old ghosts who never learned they’d died. Quinnelope lingered in the doorway, bare feet leaving no prints on the polished court, watching the blur of motion that was Emerie Cross: whistle hanging loose around her neck, voice sharp and bright, alive in a way Quinnelope had always admired. God, she’d missed this. Missed her. When the last of the players filed out, their sneakers squeaking like punctuation marks, Quinnelope finally stepped forward. The lights buzzed overhead; the air grew cooler, charged, almost reverent. “You still do that thing,” she said softly, and her voice—familiar, impossible—cut through the empty space. “The pacing. You used to do it when you were nervous. Before big games.” A smile ghosted across her lips, equal parts sorrow and sunlight. “Guess some things don’t change.” She hesitated, then added, quieter, “Hey, Em. Miss me?” @mcnstercus

[quinnelopee]

The autumn air felt like a pulse this evening—alive, electric, whispering in a language the dead weren’t supposed to understand. Quinnelope stood at the edge of the schoolyard, half-shadow, half-memory, watching the soft glow spill from classroom windows. Tiny paper ghosts swayed in the breeze, taped to glass by small, sticky hands. It smelled like finger paint and apple slices and a life she used to have. She saw Sabrina before she spoke—same blonde-colored hair, same gentle chaos in her arms as she juggled art supplies and a mug that probably said World’s Okayest Teacher. The sight of her nearly undid Quinnelope. The world had kept spinning, somehow, even after she stopped. The air around her shimmered faintly as she stepped forward, form solidifying enough to cast a faint reflection in the window beside Sabrina. “You still drink that terrible cinnamon coffee?” she asked softly, her voice threading through the quiet like smoke—familiar, fragile, real. A small smile curved her mouth, one part ache, one part joy. “Hey, Bree. It’s been a while.” @mcnstercus

[howmcnythings]

"Wow," she breathed out. She wasn't sure whether to reach out and hug her, or whether to stay put, so she chose the latter. She didn't know what to do here. It wasn't something she ever thought would happen. "Are you dead?" she asked, noticing the way the light hit her body.

"I didn't at first," she admitted. "If it weren't for the nickname I don't think I'd have connected the dots." Keiko sighed. "Beebo, not Bobo," she chuckled just slightly. "I.. I remember him. I didn't get to take him with me. I remember I cried a lot because I couldn't sleep without him," she told her.

"I have a family.. I was adopted by a really good family. Cassandra, Lailah, Sutton.. they're my sisters," she said. "I grew up with them.." Those words probably hurt, she knew that. Quinnelope was her sister by blood, but she didn't know what they were now. Was there really a label for this?

"I.. thank you. I've worked my ass off to be unstoppable. I don't just look it, I am it."

[quinnelopee]

When Keiko asked the question—the kind that never had an easy answer—Quinnelope’s smile faltered, then steadied. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I’m dead.” Her tone didn’t carry fear, just fact, like she’d made peace with it long before this morning. “But I had a good life.” Quinnelope laughed quietly, a sound small enough to get lost in the drizzle. “Beebo,” she repeated, shaking her head, the word tasting like childhood. “God, you’re right. You always were the one who remembered everything exactly right.” Her gaze flicked up again, bright even through the sorrow. “Guess some things don’t change.”

The mention of her adopted family drew a shimmer across Quinnelope’s eyes—not quite jealousy, not grief, but a strange kind of peace. “Cassandra, Lailah, Sutton,” she echoed, nodding like she was memorizing the names for later, committing them to the same sacred space where she kept the lullabies. “Sounds like you got what I prayed for... People who kept you safe.” She smiled then, real and luminous. “You deserved that.” Her fingers ghosted toward Keiko, stopping just shy of contact. “And I know you’re unstoppable, Mochi. I saw it the moment I found you again. You don’t have to prove it to me.” A soft laugh slipped through. “Though knowing you, you’ll probably still try.” A pause, then quieter—almost reverent. “You’re everything I hoped you’d grow up to be. Strong. Fierce. Alive.”

[howmcnythings]

Training was always the best part of Keiko's day, assuming it was a day where she didn't have a match. There was no such thing as a day off for her. When she wasn't training, or teaching someone else the craft, she struggled. Her body didn't like it, her mind didn't like it, and her heart didn't like it. This was her life, and she needed to be at the top of her game if she wanted to stay undefeated.

Hearing a voice, she didn't know where it came from, and for a moment she wondered if she was just imagining it. The voice wasn't familiar to her, but looking up, she tried to understand what, who, she was seeing. Hearing her words, Keiko just stared. She wasn't sure what was going on. Things flickered in her mind, a bit blurry, but she was piecing it together.

"Nellie?"

[quinnelopee]

The sound of her name—the one only Keiko ever used—hit her like a heartbeat returning after too long underwater. For a second, everything else went quiet. The rain, the wind, even the ghost-light hum in her chest—silenced by that one, trembling word. She laughed, soft and cracked at the edges. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s me.” The mist caught in her hair, haloed her in the kind of light that wasn’t quite holy but close enough to fool the human eye. Her wings flickered faintly, like candlelight in a storm.

“I didn’t think you’d remember,” Quinnelope said, voice breaking on something halfway between wonder and grief. “You were so little, Keiko. You used to follow me around with that stuffed elephant—what was his name? Bobo?—and make me braid your hair crooked.” Her eyes softened, the ache there almost tender. “You’d cry when I went off to school. And I used to promise I’d never leave you.” She exhaled, watching the breath curl into nothing. “I broke that promise.” A beat. Then quieter—“But I’m here now. I don’t know how long I get, but I’m here. And damn, Mochi… look at you. You made it.” Her smile came then—shaky, radiant, proud. “You look unstoppable.”

[immcrtalsx]

Noah Cross + Halloween 2025

as Milo Thatch from Atlantis ft. Quinnelope Kirisame ( @quinnelopee ) as Kida