“Then, a month after our hijas’ deaths, Pepa announced she was pregnant. She had a baby boy in May. It was… It was really bad for me and Gus. We struggled a lot. We fought a lot. The loss of our babies was hard for us, trying even. It’s a miracle we stayed together. At some point, I was sure our marriage would fall apart and that our– family– would just…” Julieta brushed some loose hair from her face. “Isa and Lu were everything to us. They were our pride and joy, our greatest accomplishment. They made us whole. They gave our life a purpose. And when we lost them, it seemed like it all became pointless.”
We love to put Julieta through the worst case scenarios. Won’t you agree, @adabofblessings ?
Her husband stood by the basin without any of his shirts on and with great focus, he was washing something off his white shirt. Something red or pink. On the collar.
Julieta pushed the horrible thought that Luz always used to paint her lips bloody red or deep pink away, and instead, she cleared her throat.
Agustín flinched and his head turned so quickly she feared he might have sprained some muscles with his accident-proneness, but there was no sign of any discomfort on his face - only surprise and some… fear?
“I’ve been looking for you,” she said quietly, eyes glued to the wet shirt in his hands. “What are you doing?”
“Uh, I stained my shirt and you know how terrible it is to wash off dark things from white fabric,” he explained, relaxing a little. “especially if it’s left for too long.”
Julieta hummed. “And what’s on your shirt?”
“It’s blood,” he said quickly, glancing at his shirt. “I cut my finger and touched the collar and got it stained, but don’t worry! I healed it with the food that you left on the table, and now I’m washing it to save this shirt. It would be wasted if I waited until laundry’s being done.”
Wika, querida, you're KILLING ME with this fic. The only thing I can think of is that 13 is bad luck and I swear, I won't make it if you take the one fluffy fic and hurt Juli. I'm going to read it no matter what. But know, I may not live to read anything else.
#I'm being dramatic I know
HEY! I SAID IT'S CRACKY AND IT WILL BE CRACKY! I SWEAR!
a little sneak peek:
“Miércoles,” she heard Agustín’s weak, quiet voice.
She looked at him, an angry frown on her face as she took in his pale face. “Don’t you dare faint and leave me alone!”
He only nodded, patting himself on the cheek.
“Maybe pat yourself on the back because it’s your fault!”
On the lighter note... (it’s already legendary lol)
He looked at his meal. He recognised some rice, chicken and… Was it… Was it an eggplant?
His eyebrows shot up. “Amor, what’s that?”
Julieta looked at him sharply, her lips pursed. “What now?”
“I thought you hated eggplants.”
“Well, I don’t hate them anymore.”
His gaze dropped and he must have made some face because Julieta huffed.
“Since when have you been this picky? I’m not gonna waste any food,” she murmured, then stabbed her fork into his grilled slices of eggplant and moved them to her plate.
The wind whistled through the gaps between the buildings as a pair of figures made their way up a rickety old staircase that wound its way up the walls. One was quick, light on their feet, while the other picked out her steps with more caution. As the breeze picked up again, the steps beneath them rattled, and the woman frowned and clutched at the wall.
“Are you sure about this, Rowan?” she called over to her companion. They glanced back at her from their spot several steps ahead and grinned.
“Well, nothing's broken yet!” they said. “Come on, you’ll be fine.”
“I’m not the one who spends all their time galavanting on rooftops, you know,” Eshalyn grumbled, taking another few steps. The wooden steps creaked ominously under her weight.
“Please, this is hardly galavanting,” Rowan said, hopping up the last few steps to land on the edge of the roof. “This is just a gentle stroll.” Nonetheless, they held out a hand to help Eshalyn up the last few steps. She took it, aiming a mock glower in their direction as they pulled her up to join them on the roof. The wind, even stronger at this height, whirled around them.
“You’re a lunatic,” Eshalyn said bluntly, but there was laughter in her eyes even as she struggled in vain to keep her hair from blowing into her face.
“You agreed to come with me,” Rowan countered, smirking. They lowered their joined hands, but didn’t let go. “Take a moment to look around. Not a view you see often.”
Eshalyn rolled her eyes, but obliged, lifting her free hand to shield her eyes from the setting sun as she turned to look over the city streets down below.
They weren’t high enough to see far, especially with how the buildings crowded around them, but she could still look down to see all the people winding about the streets. Vendors harking their wares, children running through the gutters, neighbours gossiping together on street corners. A smile pulled at her lips, one which only widened as she glanced over at Rowan. They were gazing down at the streets, their eyes alight with a fondness that she knew no one else would have noticed. Rowan didn’t let their true feelings show on their face often, but she’d recognize that look anywhere. They loved this city.
Eshalyn stepped away from the edge of the roof, gently tugging Rowan along before letting her fingers slip through theirs and away. “A muddy old street corner isn’t what you wanted to show me,” she said, her tone playful.
They let their gaze linger for a few moments longer before turning back to her. “No, I suppose it isn’t. This next part’s a little tougher. You think you can handle it?” They raised an eyebrow at her, the hint of a smirk on their lips.
“First off,” Eshalyn said, crossing her arms. “I know exactly what you’re doing. You’re making it a challenge so that I won’t complain or back down. Appealing to my sense of pride and my competitive spirit. You’re not slick.”
“And?”
“And, damn right I can handle it,” she retorted with a grin. “We may be playing different games, but I’ve been in my fair share of scrapes. I know my way around.”
“Then follow me,” Rowan said, laughter dancing in their eyes as they turned and ran across the length of the roof. Eshalyn cried out in protest and hurried after them, keeping herself low and running her hands along the slanted roof tiles to steady herself.
Rowan was waiting by the wall of the next building over, leaning casually against the side as if taking off in a mad dash over an uneven roof was just an everyday occurrence for them. They offered her a smug grin, but still reached out to help steady her as she straightened up against the wall. “It’s just over this wall,” they said, quickly checking over their surroundings.
The wall stretched a ways out on either side, but Eshalyn could just barely see that its roof didn’t stretch across the whole building, as if there was a courtyard of sorts in the middle. She frowned thoughtfully as she scanned the wall. There were a few windows, but they were too small to fit through, even if one of them could get one open. The only proper entrance into the building seemed to be on the street level down below. The wind ruffled her skirts as she turned back to Rowan. “Alright, I’ll bite. What’s our way in?”
“Not in. Over,” they repeated, smiling. “See there?” They pointed up at the wall near where they were standing. There was a small window, and above it was a metal bar used to help keep the wall in one piece. The brick was patchy in places, with a few chunks missing here and there.
“Ah. Over,” Eshalyn said, tapping her foot. “Well. You did say it would be worth it.”
“It is,” Rowan promised. “Need a hand up, or an example?”
Eshalyn’s brow furrowed as she considered. “I think I can see what to do,” she settled on. “But I might need a hand pulling myself up onto the edge of the roof.”
“Got it,” Rowan said. They stepped back a few paces, then came at the wall at a run, kicking off of the brick a few times before grabbing onto the edge of the windowsill. They pulled themself up until they were balancing on the narrow ledge, then grabbed the metal bar, shimmying up it hand over hand until they could reach the edge of the roof. Digging one foot into a hole in the brick, they pushed off and swung their legs up and around, landing on the roof with a thud. They disappeared for a moment, then their face and arms were visible over the edge, ready to pull Eshalyn up.
She took a deep breath. “It’s not going to be as graceful,” she warned, to which Rowan only smiled. Carefully, she felt up the wall until she found a good grip between the bricks. Then, one step at a time, she began to slowly pull herself up, testing each spot before she put her weight on it. Once, she caught a glimpse of Rowan’s worried expression above her, and gritted her teeth, redoubling her efforts. They knew she could do this, and she wasn’t about to let them down.
After what felt like eons, she was finally close enough that Rowan could lean down to clasp her forearm and help her up the rest of the way. They stayed like that for a moment, sitting down together on the roof, as they both caught their breaths. (“I’m good at lifting myself,” Rowan protested to her teasing. “Lifting others is a whole other matter.”) Eventually, though, Eshalyn pulled herself to her feet.
“Alright, then. Show me what you’ve got.”
Instead of standing, Rowan grinned silently and scooched along the narrow rooftop. On the other side from where they had climbed up was a sharp drop opening up into the courtyard that Eshalyn had spotted before. Without warning, Rowan pushed themself off the edge.
Eshalyn yelped, rushing forwards two unsteady steps across the roof before stopping short. Rowan was standing on ground a mere two metres from the rooftop—it wasn’t a courtyard, but a rooftop terrace.
“You bastard,” she complained as she squatted back down to slide onto the ground below. Rowan offered a dramatic bow, straightening up just as she landed on the ground with a thud that reverberated through her entire body.
They didn’t say a word to her, just touched her elbow and turned to look over the terrace.
A small gasp escaped Eshalyn’s lips. There was a garden here, tucked away from prying eyes. Plants seemed to sprout from every surface, with wild bushes stretching out across the floor and ivy climbing up the walls. Flowers bloomed in colourful patches, scattered throughout the space. A small stone path wound its way through the foliage. As the wind gusted, only the tops of the tallest bushes rustled in response, the walls of the terrace shielding the rest. The usual hustle and bustle of the city streets below had faded away to a dull murmur.
“I found it a few weeks ago,” Rowan said, quiet reverence in their tone. “Someone does maintain it, but they’re not by very often.”
Eshalyn didn’t answer right away, turning her head to take it all in. “This is…”
“I know,” they said. “It’s one of my favourite spots in the whole city.”
“How many people know about this, do you think?” she asked quietly, reaching out to brush her hand against a small blue flower.
“As far as I can tell? Three, now,” they said with a small smile. “You can’t see it from the streets, and the door is locked. The top floor of this building needs repairs, so people don’t go up there. I don’t think very many people even know the door exists.”
Eshalyn found herself at a loss for words. To find a place like this in the middle of the city… A place that no one else knew about? It was surreal. It was…
“Beautiful,” she said softly. “It’s beautiful. Thank you, Rowan.”
Rowan glanced at her, and there was that same fond light in their eyes. “Thank you for coming with me to see it,” they said quietly.
The wind swirled above them, carrying the noises of the city up and away.
Shouts echoed around the rooftops, blending in with the steady pounding of Enigma’s boots against the stone and ceramic tiles to form a cacophonous spectacle. People were starting to gather on the streets below, some roused from their beds by the kerfuffle, some only emerging from the taverns and street corners where they had been whiling away their night. A murmur began to rise, accompanying the chaotic symphony as the people pointed and gossiped.
Something whistled past Enigma’s ear, and they ducked just in time as a second shot went flying over their head. Now whoever fired would have to reload. Without warning, they turned sharply and leapt across the narrow alleyway, landing in a crouch on the flat roof on the other side. Out of the corner of their eye they saw an enforcer struggling to catch his balance as he wrestled with his crossbow. Another enforcer was pulling herself clumsily onto the roof that they had just departed. She locked eyes with them just as she managed to stand, and shouted a particularly vulgar curse. Enigma winked and took off at a run, following the curve of the buildings away from the shouts that chased after them.
They risked a glance at the streets down below, where a handful of gazes followed their every move. Indulging themself for a moment, they considered what this might look like from the streets: a mysterious figure silhouetted against the light of the full moon, their masquerade mask and white gloves seeming to almost glow in comparison to the dark shadows of the cloak that billowed out behind them. Sharp-eyed onlookers might catch a glimpse of a gentleman’s clothing beneath that cloak—but what sort of gentleman would have a hoard of enforcers chasing them across the rooftops?
A clattering sound behind them reminded them of that imminent threat, and they quickly brought their attention back to their getaway route. There was a short jump up ahead that might buy them some time, but there was a small balcony close enough below that an enforcer might risk it, since they could climb up from the balcony should they miss the jump. And—
“Stand down in the name of the King!”
Enigma’s head whipped around and they crouched reflexively. An enforcer was standing at the top of the abandoned watchtower a block away, their crossbow aimed squarely at Enigma’s chest. Enigma cursed under their breath. That tower had fallen into disrepair decades ago when the borders of the city had expanded beyond it, and it was usually kept locked. Even Enigma didn’t like to climb up the rotten steps to its lookout point. This was one dedicated enforcer.
Plan B, then. (Or whichever letter they were on by now. Impossible to pull this sort of thing off without a little improvisation.) Enigma abruptly turned back and ran the way they came, directly towards the enforcers that had staggered up onto the roof behind them. A shout of dismay sounded from the enforcer on the tower. Now they couldn’t take the shot without endangering their comrades. Though, said comrades were starting to overcome their surprise, readying themselves to capture the target that was now barrelling towards them. Enigma steeled themself, tuning out the confused shouts of the guards. If they remembered correctly, then what they needed should be right—
Glass shattered all around them as they jumped onto the old skylight just at the edge of the rooftop. They landed in a crouch against the rough wooden floor, falling shards of glass slicing their arms and hands. Wincing, they pulled themself to their feet, and quickly glanced around the room to confirm what they already knew—it was empty, an old unit that the landlord refused to repair, and refused to rent out for any price less than ludicrous. Rumours of the old tenant being murdered didn’t help matters, either. And, most importantly—as the enforcers closed in above them and prepared to jump through the jagged glass—it had a balcony.
It took only a few seconds for Enigma to jam a hairpin into the shoddy lock and yank the door open, but it was long enough. They heard the familiar rattle of the enforcers’ chainmail as one—no, two of them landed in the room behind them. Enigma spun to face them, walking backwards out onto the balcony. Their back bumped into the railing as the enforcers approached.
“End of the line, Enigma,” one of them spat. No crossbows, Enigma noted, and their swords were sheathed. For now.
“I suppose it does look that way, doesn’t it?” Enigma replied airily. They risked a quick glance up—the enforcer that had been atop the watchtower was gone, probably headed down to join their comrades.
“Feel free to jump!” the other enforcer suggested. “Even you would break your neck from this height. Saves us the pain of a trial.”
“Oh, but it would be such a fun trial, don’t you think?” Enigma said, their hands feeling along the railing behind them. “Like a collection of my greatest hits. All those firsthand recountings about the things I’ve done… the papers would have a field day.”
“Enough!” the first guard growled, taking a step forward. Her hand was on the hilt of her sword. Okay, time to go.
“Right. Well, it’s been fun,” Enigma said cheerfully. “I’ll be seeing you all next time!” With a cheeky grin, they lifted their hand from behind their back, revealing the rope twined around their palm. Banners dangled from it as it stretched across the street, fastened to a balcony railing on the other side. As the enforcers’ eyes widened in shock, Enigma jumped, falling back over the railing and swinging down to the street below. Their feet skidded against the cobblestone street before they released the rope, rolling with the momentum and landing in a crouch. The cuts lining their arms from the broken glass screamed in protest, but they wrested their pained facial expression back under control as they stood and turned to face the balcony.
The enforcers were both leaning over the railing, one shouting curses Enigma’s way, the other desperately scanning the streets for backup. But of course, all the available enforcers were up on the roofs, and they wouldn’t be able to get down so quickly. Enigma brought a hand to their heart and bowed dramatically, which only strengthened the vitriol of the enforcer’s cries. Straightening up, Enigma winked at them, then darted off into the shadows of a nearby alleyway.
From there they had to be quick. They tore off their mask and their gloves, unbuttoned their vest and flipped it around, let down their hair. Their cloak was invertible too, lined with an unassuming light brown instead of their signature black. Finally, they shifted their posture—no longer standing up straight, but hunching slightly forward and dragging their feet, like someone who hadn’t had enough to eat in weeks. A makeshift disguise, but as they emerged from the alleyway into a busy square, it would do. There were plenty of people who looked like this, after all. And only one person who looked like Enigma.
****
The memory came into Enigma’s mind unbidden as they landed and rolled on the muddy streets of a foreign city, the banner line they had swung down from careening off wildly in the vicious winds. For a moment, their hand went to their face—they had to be quick, they had to take off the mask before the enforcers caught up—but as their gloved hands brushed their exposed skin, they pulled themself out of it.
The massive serpent roared overhead, and the fires around them flared. The other Sparks were already taking off, getting ahead. Distant screams sounded as another bolt of lightning struck down from the sky.
Enigma pulled themself to their feet. No mask to take off, anymore.
The back door of the Broken Locket was kept well-oiled. There was no sense in alerting passerby or customers any time someone might need to discreetly slip in or out of the pawn shop—it was none of their business why anyone might be using that door, after all.
So when the back door was pushed open with enough force to send it thudding against the wall, Eshalyn Thrift was there in an instant, a blade tucked into the sleeve of her dress. She slipped into the shadows just beyond the sight of whoever was coming in, craned her neck to peer out and gauge the situation—
“Rowan?” Eshalyn stepped out of the shadows, staring bewilderedly at the somewhat bedraggled form of her guest. “What happened?”
“They didn’t catch me, I’m not being followed,” Rowan replied tiredly, shoving the door shut behind them with another loud thud and slipping the mask off of their face.
“Obviously. You wouldn’t dare to be here if you were,” Eshalyn said, still not entirely relaxing. She took in the sorry sight in front of her as they pulled off their boots—Rowan was still fully decked out in their Enigma costume, so they were clearly just returning from the night’s heist. But they were empty-handed, and there was a harrowed look in their eyes that they couldn’t—no, that they weren’t trying to hide. And there was something else… she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but they were… different, somehow. She crossed her arms, silently asking them to explain themself through a tilt of her head and the worried crease of her brow.
Rowan let out a breath, opening and closing their mouth a few times as they tried to find the words. Alarmed, Eshalyn stepped forward, gently resting her hand on their arm. She had never seen them at such a loss for words before. Not even close.
Finally, they seemed to pull something together. They lifted their head to meet her gaze and said, “I’ve Sparked.”
Eshalyn froze. She searched their pale face for any signs of trickery, of falsehood, anything, and felt the colour drain from her own cheeks as she found none. “Oh,” she said quietly.
“Oh,” Rowan agreed. “It’s… it happened just as I was getting away.”
She tensed slightly. “And you’re sure no one saw?”
They nodded. “I was far from the house. Just making my way through the back alleys to my safehouse. But then… it was like this enormous explosion. Bright light, and it—knocked everything right out of my hands.”
“Everything?” she asked, wincing.
“Everything! I’ve been planning this for months! I had it all in my hands, right there, and then poof! Gone. I swear people crawled out of the gutters to snatch it all up before I could.” They scowled, moving past Eshalyn to head deeper into the backrooms of the shop. She followed, turning on the lantern of the small sitting area she had set up as Rowan collapsed into one of the chairs. They let out a sigh as she sat down across from them.
“I might be in trouble if I don’t get another job done soon. Food prices have gone up again,” they muttered.
“Don’t they pay you?”
“What, the people I’m stealing from?”
“No, the Sparks. OATH.”
“Oh. Right.” Rowan looked down at their gloved hands. “I think they do.”
Eshalyn studied their face for a few moments. “What are you going to do?” she asked quietly.
“...I have to go,” they said, still not looking up. “That’s how it works, isn’t it? If I don’t go, I’ll turn into a Broken.”
“Yeah.” She trailed off. The lantern's flame sparked quietly in the heavy silence.
Rowan tugged their gloves off slowly, leaving them on the armrest of their chair, before turning to look at Eshalyn. “This is going to take some careful thought.”
She nodded her agreement. “Could be an opportunity. You said you didn’t want to be a thief forever, right?”
Rowan shrugged one shoulder. “There’s other things that I think would suit me. Other ways to get ahead. Though I wasn’t quite done with being Enigma just yet.”
“I’m going to be out of business if you completely give it up,” she joked. “Maybe you can still do a few jobs in your off-time.”
“Maybe,” they said, smiling a little. “Though, please, you hardly need me to stay afloat. I’m not even your only source, not to mention all the legitimate business you do have here.”
She laughed. “Legitimate doesn’t pay as well. And you’re my favourite.”
“Oh, please, you can’t win me over with flattery,” Rowan said, smirking and resting their chin on their fist. “But do go on.”
Eshalyn laughed again, but quickly fell silent, her usual witty retorts seeming ill-suited to the situation at hand. It was strange, she thought. Sparking was something to be celebrated. But she couldn’t help but feel like…
“This really changes things, doesn’t it.”
Rowan paused for a moment, their hand slowly lowering back down to the armrest of the chair as they shifted forward to face her. Their expression morphed into something more serious.
“It doesn’t, Eshalyn,” they said, their voice low. “It might change my work. It might change how often I’m around. But…”
“...Nothing else changes,” she finished, and Rowan nodded. “I’m holding you to that.”
They offered her a half-smile. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, you know.”
“More like you can’t get rid of me.”
“Like a barnacle.”
“Never mind, keep that up and you might have a solution to your barnacle problem very soon.”
The pair of them laughed, the sound filling the small room. It wasn’t long before silence gathered around them once more, but it was a silence filled with the comforting echoes of the words that had been said, not the pressing weight of the unknown.
“I’ll have to figure out how I’m going to play this,” Rowan said eventually, leaning back in their chair with a contemplative look. “I’m not sure what the best way to get ahead will be.”
“Charm their commanders?”
“Well, of course. Beyond that, though. Retired Sparks end up in some pretty nice positions, don’t they?”
“But you can’t choose when you retire,” Eshalyn pointed out.
“No… better to focus on what I can do as a Spark, then,” Rowan decided. “I suppose the biggest question is… who do I show up as?”
Eshalyn hummed in thought, crossing her legs and looking Rowan up and down. “It might be good to seem unassuming. Someone no one will suspect.”
“True. Though being that different might get… challenging if it goes on for too long. I’m good, but being like that for… months? Years? Even if it’s not all the time, it’d be exhausting.”
“Right, good point. And if you got found out—” She smirked a little at the protests she could see already forming on Rowan’s face. “If you got found out, even for something tiny, they’d know just how much you were lying. They’d never trust you again.”
The silent grumbles were still written all over Rowan’s expression, but they acquiesced. “I do need them to trust me. That means I have to be someone who they could trust even if they found out… Which means they can’t learn that I’ve been lying.” A thoughtful expression crossed their face, and they glanced over to the gloves lying on their armrest, then to the mask that they had clipped to their belt.
Eshalyn’s eyebrows crept slowly up her forehead. “You’re kidding.”
“Why not?” they said with a little grin. “It’s a role I can play well. There’d be no risk of being found out, because I wouldn’t be lying to them. They can’t charge me with any previous crimes now that I’ve Sparked. And it lets me keep hiding my true identity.”
She slowly shook her head. “You’re either brilliant, or a madman.”
“I can be both,” they said, deftly unclipping the mask and giving it a little spin. “Announcing the newest Spark to join the legions of OATH…” The white mask fit perfectly over their eyes, and they placed their hand to their heart and gave a little bow. “Enigma. Scourge of Tanin’s nobility. Thief with a heart of gold.”
Eshalyn applauded dutifully, but she couldn’t stifle her laughter. “I thought you weren’t lying to them?” she asked, grinning. “Where’s this heart of gold?”
“I’ll let you know after I melt down the gold from Lord Beaumont’s vault,” they replied, matching her grin.
Eshalyn laughed and shook her head. “Can’t believe Fate chose you of all people to be a Spark.” Still smiling, she reached over to take Rowan’s hand. They held on tightly, a light in their eyes as they looked back at her.
