Warnings: The usual anxiety and sadness that accompanies Whisper /lh
《 … 》
Silence settled over them. Unlike the silences Whisper was used to, this one didn’t weigh on her. It didn't pressure her to talk or leave to ease the tension. Instead, this one wrapped around her like a soft and comforting blanket, one she was in no rush to remove. Willow, despite her seemingly endless energy, remained silent too. She didn’t seem to mind her company.
The sun sank in the horizon. Immediately all light seemed to vanish, replaced by thick darkness. Said darkness was starting to take a bigger fraction of the days.
With the sun gone the temperature dropped suddenly too. A chill ran down Whisper's spine.
The warmth of the well-stocked fire beckoned her closer, almost uncomfortably so. She didn't mind the blistering heat. In her eyes, it remained more favorable than freezing to death.
Willow's eyes remained fixed on the flame dancing in the firepit. After a second, her lip twisted and she turned to her backpack in search of something. She added another piece of wood to the flame, which crackled and sparked almost in a show of gratitude. The thought made Whisper smile.
Satisfied, Willow returned her gaze to Whisper. Her proud smile fell.
"How are you doing that?"
Whisper jolted, her own smile wavered a little. "Doing what?"
"You are glowing!" There was some amazement somewhere in her tone, but mostly Whisper heard outraged confusion.
She hadn't noticed how rarely she smiled until it was pointed out.
Her smile weakened. It wasn't Willow's intention, but the familiar self-consciousness was already pooling in her stomach like a dead weight. Whisper reminded herself that her new friend was a bit of a prankster, but definitely not malicious.
"Well, that's what happens when one makes a new friend." Whisper forced herself to chuckle.
Willow frowned for a second, then she shook her head. "No, no your smile is very pretty but you're literally glowing. Your hair is glowing."
Whisper blinked. Was that Willow's sense of humor? Was it too late to rescind the friendship offer? "My hair is what?"
"It's glowing!" Willow repeated, she looked as baffled as Whisper herself. She drew in closer—"Look!"
Willow tugged some of Whisper's hair to her eye level.
She was right.
How was her hair glowing?
Words seemed to purposefully evade her while she tried to react. Her erudite response was:
"What?"
"I assume it didn't do that before," Willow said.
Whisper shook her head, still dumbfounded. She had seen some things during her—admittedly short, but nevertheless quite eventful—time in the Constant. Yet, up to this point, everything weird and unnatural she had encountered had been from here.
"So that's why you're never worried about the dark," Willow mused.
Whisper looked at her. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I've never been a fan of the dark but there's something in it here. A monster that attacks." Willow mimicked claws with her hands and shuddered.
Whisper had noticed, of course she had. As soon as the sun started to set in the Constant everyone dropped their tasks and scrambled to fuel fire pits and lamps. She had assumed it was simply a matter of visibility, not survival.
Did everyone think she was some kind of fearless warrior? Was that the reason behind the respectful nods the Viking would give her?
"Why would Maxwell give you cool hair? Are you his favorite?"
Whisper scoffed and tried to ignore the disgust welling in her stomach.
Maxwell.
Her thoughts drifted towards her last moments in the real world—as they frequently did when the man was mentioned.
Why would he do something like this? Maxwell wanted to torment them, torment her. Why would he give her an advantage? Protection?
I can give you your spark back.
The realization wrapped around her throat without warning and squeezed mercilessly. With the certainty of a doomed woman, Whisper knew she'd been fooled.
She stood as fast as she could and walked into the inky darkness. The monster that frightened everyone else. Now that she knew, she noticed the way it parted before her. Skittering away like a wounded animal. The hold around her throat tightened, making her whole face burn. Whisper blinked away the blur of tears. What was she, if even Hell cowered at her presence?
"Are you leaving?" Willow sounded almost disappointed.
In any other circumstance, Whisper would've forced herself to stay. To swallow her pain and put on a show like she'd done a thousand times before.
You can light up the room again.
Whisper didn't meet her eyes. "I'm really tired, I need to sleep."
"Alright." Then, like an afterthought: "Don't let the scientist look at your cool new power, he might see you as an experiment."
Whisper could tell it was a joke but the thought concerned her a tad. She still tried to laugh. "Good night, Willow."
Summary: Willow seriously hates the ice fling-o-matic
Warnings: none i think
《 . . . 》
The beautiful sound of the beginnings of a fire caught Willow's attention. Her eyes darted around in search of the source. A flower. She ran to it, eager to see the flame rise on its own. Natural fires were the prettiest.
Just as it was about to catch, a mechanical sound could be heard, and in an instant the fire was gone, replaced by the cold of being hit with a bucketful of ice.
Willow glared, the offending machine stood there, just a few paces away. She stalked towards it.
"I wish you would shut your lid and stop putting out fires!" Willow grunted, she kicked her feet, sending a spray of dirt directly to a passing butterfly.
"Willow, are you okay?"
She huffed, annoyed. "That stupid Ice Fling thing keeps putting out fires around the camp!"
Whisper stayed silent for a second. She spoke tentatively, "Yeah.. that's what it's supposed to do…"
Another huff. "Whatever. It's not like we need it anyway. It's stupid. Not a single fire around, I feel like I'm going crazy."
Whisper pondered in silence again, and then: "Have you tried lighting your fires out of range?"
Willow looked at her, frowning. "Uh, no, not really?"
Whisper smiled wide. "What are we waiting for then?"
"Oh, yes! Let's go, let me show you how pretty grass burns!"
Willow grabbed her friend's hand, practically dragging Whisper along. Once they were far enough from that bothersome machine she stopped. The camp was barely visible on the horizon, but neither of them worried about it.
With the help of various flammable piles and Willow's lighter there were plenty of little fires all around. Willow gushed about them and Whisper listened and smiled.
She grabbed another healing salve from her backpack.
《 . . . 》
"Uh, would you look at that, the weather is getting colder." Whisper glanced at the thermal measurer in the middle of the camp.
"Is it?" Willow looked up from the crockpot dish she was cooking, the only fire allowed in the camp.
"Yep, do you know what that means?" Whisper smiled conspiratorially.
"Is it time?" It was endearing, seeing Willow bounce on the balls of her feet.
"Yes!! Lets go!"
Whisper grabbed her friend's hand this time around, skipping and giggling as they neared the whirring ice machine.
"Willow, would you do the honors?" She bowed, exaggerating a flourish to the fling-o-matic.
Willow giggled, and without hesitation she killed the power.
