3. Things you said before leaving.
Your name is Charlotte Olivia Grace, you’re nineteen years old, and you met a man in town today who told you he could take you with him back to New Alexandria. He seemed genuinely pleased by your enthusiastic agreement, and had walked you home so you could pack your bags.
He’s now planted himself between you and your parents, and the warmth of this stranger’s hand in yours gives you the courage to stand a little straighter, look your mother in the eye, and tell her that not only are you leaving but that you’re never coming back. You’ll cry over the memory of the look on her face that night when you’re fairly sure your new companion has gone to sleep -and he won’t have the heart to tell you later that he heard each quiet sob- but in that moment your resolve is firm, and your voice doesn’t shake.
Your name is Cog, you’re twenty years old, and you’ve just met the most wonderful group of people. They’re rough around the edges, but so was Ace when you first met him. They’re fearless and exciting and so full of life that your chest aches with a longing to join them on their adventures. You’re silently but profusely grateful that you were the one sent to fetch them for their meeting with Master Kind when they first arrived in the city, and that she saw fit to send you with them on the errand they ran for her.
...but that errand has been completed. You’re back from the town you swore six months ago you’d never step foot in again, and in the morning your new friends leave for the Crossroads. In the morning, your life returns to lectures and essays and studying runes and history you’ll never use, and it’s so much better than what you had in Lafaroh but the taste of a life of adventure is still thick on your tongue and you’d give anything you have for even just another day of that excitement. You’re unhappy and subdued the night you make it back to New Alexandria, and you know Ace notices even though he doesn’t say anything. You hope he knows you’re not ungrateful for the life he gave you here, and as you lay on your back in your dorm room bed you tell yourself again and again that boring at least means stable, and that stable is good.
Ace sends you off ahead to meet the party outside the Academy gates the next day, claiming he wants to grab some supplies to send with them and that he’ll catch up soon to see them off with you. You’re in the middle of trying to convince the standoffish gunslinger to give you a hug goodbye when you see Ace coming toward you, and though his grin is infectious it’s out of place enough to give you pause. He leans in, ruffles your hair, and tells you that you have approval straight from the Headmaster’s desk to leave New Alexandria with this group of weirdos you’ve gotten so attached to. It takes a moment for what he’s saying to sink in; it takes another for you to understand what was unsaid, as well. You’re going, and Ace has to stay here.
You know Ace almost as well as you know yourself, and you know he wants more than anything to be able to do what he just bent the rules to give you the freedom to do. And yet here he is, smiling and teasing you for tearing up when you should be thanking him, because he’s honestly excited you get to go in his stead. So you hug him tight and promise to write, promise to come back and visit, promise you’ll miss him and do whatever you can to make the world a better place. He makes you promise to keep your chin up and refuse to let the Wasteland smother your spirit, and you do without hesitation. Your cheeks are still wet but your face hurts from smiling when you finally pull away, and with one final, heartfelt goodbye, you take off into the city to catch up with your new friends and tell them the good news.
9. Things you said while lying to yourself
They’re just dreams. Stress dreams, you tell yourself, and who could blame you for being stressed? In less than a week you’ve had to watch helplessly as one of your friends was lead to his execution, trekked across the Wasteland because your car was stolen by a Bandit who’s now taken it upon himself to tail your party, had to choose between destroying a town’s entire water supply and triggering Project Leviathan, gotten a letter from your best friend who’s hurting and struggling to hold his city together, and had the horrifying realization that the Bandit who days ago stole your car just to get your attention now has unsupervised access to an incredibly powerful, incredibly dangerous magical artifact. It’s enough to put a strain on anyone, and you’re self-aware enough to admit that you’ve never been especially good at dealing with emotionally taxing situations anyway. It makes sense that you’re having stress dreams, and you’re certain they’ll go away on their own when things slow down.
It doesn’t mean anything that these dreams are reoccurring, unchanging, and relentless. It doesn’t mean anything that you’re dreaming of your hometown, of the street where you watched as -with your permission- Ace killed you mother. It doesn’t mean anything that the creature speaking to you is the same one she summoned, or that it speaks with her voice. Or your own. It doesn’t mean anything that it says, over and over, that you can’t cheat destiny, or that you’ve heard that phrase more times than you can count over the last few days. It’s your brain dredging it up from those moments, that’s all. It doesn’t mean anything. Because if it did—If it did—
But dreams are just dreams. You jolt awake, pulse racing, heart in your throat, and look around frantically to find your friends asleep in the room around you. Seeing their silhouettes is less of a comfort than you had hoped it might be, and you curl in on yourself, forehead pressed to your knees, and whisper that truth to yourself in the darkness again and again. Dreams are just dreams. Dreams are just dreams. Dreams are just dreams.
25. Things you said that you still think about today
You’re in a jail cell in a city that by all rights you never should have been able to step foot in, and for the first time all day the people around you are speaking a language you actually understand. It would be a refreshing change, but you’re having trouble believing even now that you’re actually understanding what’s being said. Valentine had followed the party as they were escorted from the throne room to their cells, no doubt to gloat about how they had played right into his hand, that everything they had done had been pointless in the grand scheme of things. And, sure enough, he’s there now, leaning against the bars of your cell and waxing poetic about the meaninglessness of ‘good’ and ‘evil’ and how the only way to save the world from ruin is to conquer and unite it. He speaks, uninterrupted, for several minutes. He’s all but preaching at your exhausted, downtrodden party, and not one of them raise their head to tell him to stop, to argue with him, or even to tell him to just fuck off. And so, exhausted as you yourself are, you have no choice but to push yourself to your feet and take a step toward the bars.
“You’re wrong.”
It takes Valentine aback for a moment that you were the one to stand up to him but, as always, he recovers quickly. He smiles at you, composed as ever, and leans in to remind you that you were the one who said you wanted to see the Wasteland at peace. Isn’t that right, Charlotte? That’s what he’s offering. Really, you should be thanking him...
Your hands ball into fists at your sides, and an anger you’ve never felt before starts to burn in your chest. He’s trying to use you. He’s trying to take your words, trying to take the good you want to see done in the world, and twist it so you have to agree with him. He wants you to believe that your options are help him or watch the world burn, and you’ve never been more angry with another person in your life. “You’re wrong,” you insist again, and the new fire in you burns hotter as you watch his smile go pitying at the way your voice trembles. He doesn’t get to be right because he’s not emotional! He doesn’t get to be right because he’s decided he’s been logical! You take an angry step forward, with half a mind to jab a finger through the bars and against his chest. You instead stop inches away and glare up at him, defiant and resolute. “If you’re looking at a problem this big and can only see two solutions, it’s because you found the one you wanted and stopped looking for others. You’re wrong, Valentine, and you don’t get to tell me I’m stupid or naive for knowing there has to be another way.”
It’s the first time you’ve put words to that thought, but the conviction behind them is unshakable. You’re right, and you know you’re right. You know that it may not always be easy, but looking for that third option is always, always worth it. You tuck those words into your heart, and carry them out of the city with you. And when you get to New Alexandria, when you learn that Master Kind wants to start a war and Ace intends to let her do it because he can’t see another way out, you look him in the eye and tell him exactly what you told Valentine. There is always, always a third option.
20. Things you said when you missed what you could have had
Maybe it makes you sound like an asshole -you’re pretty sure it does, and you’re even more sure you don’t really care- but rescuing a town’s worth of kids from the warlord that had been extorting their parents really feels like a job that’s beneath you at this point. You’d fought a fucking adult green dragon last week, why are you running a glorified fetch quest now? Surely there are other adventurers in the area who are looking for work? Who are just the right amount of qualified to raid the warlord’s camp and kill him and his men? You would have fought the issue, but you saw the look on your party’s faces at the mention of children in danger and you decided to save your breath.
The fight was so one sided that it barely stuck in your mind as something that happened. Your contribution was walling off the tents the children were in, so that what was going to be a simple bloodbath didn’t turn into a hostage situation, and then keeping that wall up while the rest of the party cleared out the bodies before the children could see them. And now... Oh, now you’re walking up the dirt road toward the village with a gaggle of children nipping at your heels, tugging the hem of your skirt free from sticky, grabby hands every ten seconds, arms crossed tightly so none of the little bastards try to reach out and hold your hand. It’s miserable, it has been miserable for the last hour and a half you’ve been walking, and if the sun sets before you make it to town you’re going to scream.
...there’s a little girl, no older than five or so, riding on Zize’s shoulders up ahead. Bright blue eyes, blonde hair in messy pigtails, thumb in her mouth, she’d walked right up to Zize and held one arm up toward him in a silent demand to be picked up. She hasn’t said a word the whole time the group has been walking, but she hasn’t been crying either. She seems entirely content to suck her thumb and trace the tiny scales that make up the delicate details of the ridges that crest Zize’s head. As far as you can tell Zize doesn’t seem to mind the passenger, though you can’t imagine how.
You make it to town before nightfall -thank the gods- and since you’re the only one without at least one sticky parasite hanging off of you you hang back while your party members help reunite the rescued children with their families. You watch as Yocheved lowers their tail so the older children who had been riding on their back can safely dismount, as they hand the infant they’d kept cradled protectively against their chest back to its tearful mother. You watch Lent kneel to hug a pair of twins who had spent the whole walk holding her hands, before shooing them off to their parents who thank her profusely. By the time you catch Cylthia in the crowd she’s handed off her charges as well, and appears to be counting the reunited children to make sure, one last time, that no one was left behind. And Zize-
You scan the square, and catch sight of Zize a little ways off, laughing as they reach up to keep their little charge from falling off their shoulders in her eagerness to get down. She’s caught sight of her dad in the crowd and is calling out to him, wiggling and squirming in Zize’s hold until they set her down and she can dart off to hug her dad’s leg as tight as her little body can manage. And it’s... it’s strange, the way your chest goes tight watching the reunion. You frown and step back, but can’t bring yourself to tear your eyes away from the look of absolute joy on the father’s face to have his baby in his arms. You don’t... remember the last time you spoke to your dads, you realize. It’s been months since you’ve so much as thought about home, and suddenly the guilt is eating you alive. It’s not a feeling you like, and it certainly isn’t one you’re used to.
The town is having a celebration in your honor that night, but you wave off the repeated offers to join in on the festivities. You beg off claiming to be tired, and while that’s enough to deter the thankful townspeople your party members remain unconvinced. You still haven’t brought up home with them -Zize is the only one who has any real idea of where you came from, and even she never actually met your dads- and, quite frankly, you’re still not sure you think it’s their business. Still, you know they won’t drop it until they get a better explanation. “I have a letter to write,” you tell them reluctantly, adjusting and neatening the pages of the sheaf of paper you’d managed to scrounge up. “It’s... overdue. You go on, I’ll join you when I’m done.”
23. Things you said while absolutely exhausted
It’s pointless. The fight- There’s no reason to continue, bleeding yourselves dry across the streets of some city in hell, chasing down an enemy you know you can’t kill. Your wounds may close seconds after they’re inflicted, but the rest of your resources aren’t regenerating the same way. You’ve been fighting for what feels like hours; you’re down to the dredges of your magic at this point, and a glance at Cylthia and Lent tells you they’re nearly tapped too. Zize and Yocheved may not be having that same problem, but it’s clear they’re exhausted as well. More than that, desperation is starting to set in. How do you sustain your will to fight when you can watch in real time as the wounds you inflict on your enemy disappear in a matter of moments? When you know that, eventually, your strength will fail you and your enemy will escape to doom the world? You keep swinging, you keep firing, you keep casting, because what else can you do? You’re going to fail, but you want to fail knowing you did everything you could to stop the end of the world.
You’re standing at the back of battle, because of course you are. You’re drenched in sweat and your arms ache from holding your spellbook and focus up for as long as you have had to, and it hasn’t made an ounce of difference. The realization of how truly pointless this all is hits you, and you slowly close your spellbook. You let your wand fall limp at your side, and you watch as the people around you grit their teeth, dig in their heels, and call out to one another as they give everything they have to buy precious, useless seconds. In the span of less than then of them you watch Yocheved hiss in pain as claws rip into their flank, watch as Lent’s shield swings around just in time to catch the brunt of an attack that would have bit deep into her shoulder, watch as Clythia cries out and reaches uselessly toward where, seconds ago, her fire spirt had been extinguished by an spell that had caught her, unawares, from behind, watched as Zize looked back at you, offered you a grim smile, then shifted a few feet to the left to put himself in front of you before firing at Geryon again. You watch and you know, with a deep seated certainty, that this isn’t going to change anything. This is a war of attrition, and you’re going to lose.
...and then.
You look down at the spellbook still heavy in your hand, and while you can hear the battle continuing to rage around you it seems distant. Far off, recedding further still, and unimportant. You can fix this, you realize. You’d be giving up everything to do it, but...
The world slows down as you tuck your wand away and reopen your spellbook, turning page after page to get to a spell you haven’t yet had a reason to cast. Your notes on it barely take up half the page you assigned to it: a deceptively short description for a spell you’re going to use to change the fate of the world. You look up to see Zize snarl as one of Geryon’s minions attacks him, and your resolve hardens. The devil is dead at his feet seconds later, and Zize looks back at you again to make sure you’re alright. “...I’m sorry.” You say to him, tearing your eyes away as his look of concern turns to one of confusion. “I am so, so sorry,” you say to the four people you love most in the world, making eye contact with each one of them in turn. You know none of them are close enough to stop you. You hold your spellbook out in front of you, turn your face toward the sky, close your eyes, and scrape together every bit of arcane energy you have left to channel the most powerful spell a living creature can cast.
”I Wish—”
31. Things you said that you wouldn’t have if it were light out
"You gonna stay the night?” Ecstasy asks, and though you have your back to her as you peer into the mirror to make yourself presentable enough to Teleport home, you can hear the grin in her words. It’s been a running joke since you first started sleeping together; you honestly can’t remember who started it. One of you, sprawled out on the bed, loose and warm in the afterglow of absolutely amazing sex, calling out to the other to ask for them to stay. The answer to the flippant request is always the same: “Not a chance.” It’s how the game is played. The person asking never expects a yes, and the person answering never really has any malice behind their words. It’s easier and less awkward than having to say goodnight, goodbye, or -god forbid- ‘thank you’.
...but recently, Ecstasy’s been the one asking every night. She laughs off your refusal same as she always has, but there’s a sincerity to the request that caught you off guard the first time you heard it. The first several times she heard it, if you’re being honest. And tonight? Tonight, you find yourself honestly, genuinely considering it. Picturing it. You could turn around, crawl back into bed, and let Ecstasy’s soft breathing and the rocking of the ship around you lull you to sleep.
You’ve missed your line in the script. You hear a creaking behind you as Ecstasy sits up on the bed, and you can picture the way she’s cocked her head as she swings her legs over the side of the bed and leans forward. You turn around, and the quiet, intense familiarity behind the fact that you’d envisioned the position she’s in perfectly based on nothing more than the sounds she made by moving does something to your chest you’re not ready to face. “Angel, are you—”
“Ask me again.” You demand as the feeling in your chest turns into something more recognizable. Your heart is pounding; you’re fully clothed again, seconds away from being ready to leave, but you’ve never in your life felt more vulnerable than you do in this moment.
Ecstasy pauses, visibly confused, but she inclines her head toward you and indulges your request. “...alright then. You gonna stay the night?”
“...okay.” The word come out breathless, and for several moments all you can do is stare at Ecstasy and wait for her reaction. For several more moments, it seems she can only do the same. Neither of you know what to do with this kind of vulnerability, not after so many months of living under the unspoken rule that this wasn’t how you interacted with one another, that the permanent sort of thing staying the night implied wasn’t something either of you wanted.
A beat passes, then another. Then: “Well. Good. I'm an angel, too, in the mornings.” It’s an attempt to get things back on track, but several seconds too late to feel fully natural. You’re biting back a grin as you undress again regardless, because if Ecstasy is mouthing off like that then she’s not scoffing and telling you that you weren’t supposed to actually say yes. She holds the blanket up for you to join her in bed once more, and as you make yourself comfortable beside Ecstasy, you realize with a smile you’re glad the darkness is there to hide that you’re very much looking forward to seeing the kind of terror Ecstasy is in the mornings.
