#themountainsays

[isamiral-soulwolf]

Alma: If you’re saying I have favorites, you’re wrong! I love all of my grandkids dating in the family equally!

*earlier that day*

Alma: I don’t care for Mirabel dating Isabela.

[gryfon-spanish-werewolf]

For the headcanon asks, Elsa? 👉👈

Realistic headcanon: Pricks her fingers sewing. Can't fit thimbles on gloves. "She makes clothes out of ice tho" -- it's not for her! 🥰

Unrealistic but hilarious: Plays the banjo in her spare time. Absolutely shreds. Re-creates traditional songs on it a little TOO well

Heart-crushing and awful, therefore fun to share with friends: Will never hold her own happiness and peace of mind up to the same levels of importance as those she loves. Never. It will kill her.

Unrealistic but fuck canon: Actually knew the names of all the spirits in F2 before she got to the Forest bc she had imaginary friends as a child and somehow felt that Bruni, Nokk, and Gale were "Fit just right."

[annarendellsa]

Mmmmmm thoughts on... kristoff/elsa? (trying to think of a ship i don't already know your opinions on... Just spinning a wheel... letting it randomly combine characters...)

noooo haha i really don't like this ship!! i'm team ice bros!! also imo elsa is not kristoff's type and elsa is not interested in men, so... yeah.

however it's not like a ship i could find super bad like it doesn't gross me out like ships with hans, I could see the chemistry between them and all, it's just not for me!

thanks for the ask <3

[elsanna-secret-santa]

Comet Pulled From Orbit

Gift for @themountainsays. I hope that your Christmas celebrations are going well, and that this little piece can bring you some (angsty) happiness!

—————-

Anna looked around the empty room, trying to take in as much detail at once as she could. The large mirrors, a little dusted over, looming above the washed wood tabletops. Chairs–every single one of a different kind, but yet fitting together in an odd, found-family way–lined up neatly at the vanity tables, one chaise-lounge at the wall right opposite the door and two large sofas right of it, partially hidden by an array of clothes racks. There were a few dresses and blouses already hanging on the racks, among a sea of empty hangers.

She inhaled. The room smelled like dust and a mixture of (very) old perfume residue.

Making sure nobody could see her–the door behind her was closed, after all–she let out the tiniest, softest squeal of excitement. She was in a dressing room. She was in her dressing room, even if it looked like she would potentially need to share it with one or two other people.

A dressing room. A dressing room in an actual freaking theatre.

She put her messenger bag on one of the vanity chairs–the red velour covering looked to be very vintage, but it was still surprisingly soft to the touch–and took a few slow, cautious steps across the creaky floor, cringing at the sudden noise. Aside from that, it was almost deafeningly quiet in the old building, which only boosted the feeling of sacred reverie, a discovering of some forgotten temple of another time.

This quiet, dimly lit dressing room where countless other actors and actresses changed clothes, fixed their makeup and rehearsed their lines, way before she was even born.

She walked over to the rack and put her hand on a black sleeve. The fabric was rough and heavy, and the dress definitely didn’t look like a final version of anything when she pulled it out for closer inspection, but there was no mistaking–it was for her. It had to be hers. The entire feel of it just screamed Elphaba.

Elphaba. She, Anna, as Elphaba. The Elphaba from the Wicked.

Well, not exactly the same the Wicked, from what she knew so far, but still. Elphaba. Main role. Defying Gravity and all that.

Her.

She let out a little less contained, more energetic squeal. She was finally breaking through.

***

“Anna Marshall?” the voice on the other end said, and she tried not to immediately drop her shoulders in defeat. It wasn’t Mr. Mattias. Probably some assistant.

And she was probably just calling to blow her off.

“Yes, speaking,” she answered, her voice not even shaky. She was an actress, damn it, and she was going to act like an actress so long as they could still hire her for some other acting in the future.

That, and she was on a very busy street, so she couldn’t really allow herself to have a mental breakdown right there.

“Miss Marshall, Yelana Nattura of the Borealis Theatre Group. We have reviewed all the auditions we had the past week,” the assistant continued in a deep, but nasal voice that bore the weight of the world. Anna took a deep breath and braced for the worst. “And we would be delighted to see you at the meeting this Tuesday at 9 a.m., followed by the first rehearsal on Wednesday. You do know the address, I assume?”

Anna blinked. “Rehearsal?”

The assistant sighed. “Miss Marshall, make no mistake, your audition was simply spectacular, but I still believe we’ll need to rehearse in order to take this play to the opening night.”

The wave of excitement that hit her was enough to drown out the assistant’s sarcasm. “Wait, but–” she said, then promptly stopped herself–both from speaking some nonsense that didn’t exactly get approved by her brain yet as she had a tendency to, as well as from bumping into some innocent passerby in ecstatic confusion. “E-Elphaba?”

“What? Oh–” There was another sigh, then a rustle of papers. “Yes, Elphaba.”

Anna just stopped walking. Someone slammed into her right away, hard enough that she stumbled forward, but she didn’t even mind. Or didn’t hear whatever the person said in a very angry voice.

“Oh my god thank you so, so, soooo very much!” Her vision was blurry. There were tears in her eyes– nope, they were on her cheeks. She was crying in a crowd of strangers like an absolute maniac. “This is amazing, I can’t– I-I have no idea wh–”

“Miss Marshall, please calm down,” the assistant’s tone of voice now told her she’s either been through many outbreaks like that before, or she’d simply had enough just after talking to Anna. “You were good. You’ve shown us what you could do and we liked it. See you on Tuesday.”

Before Anna could even answer a quick ‘okay bye!’, the line was cut.

***

She hadn’t slept much that night–or any night following, to be honest–and almost not at all today. Her excitement had her fully functioning and running, breakfast and all, almost an hour before she had to actually leave for the meeting, and while her brain was trying to process what was actually happening, Anna’s legs autopiloted to Downtown Toronto, right to a stop in front of the Borealis Theatre’s closed doors.

This might have been the first time in her life she’d been early enough for something to not be able to even enter.

Luckily, the security guard on duty turned out to be a very nice gentleman and let her in after only five minutes of begging and explaining. She’d ventured the halls and various rooms–purposefully avoiding the scene–for about half an hour before she’d wound up in front of the dressing room–the one she currently was in.

The only dressing room with this black dress on the rack.

So, just to be one hundred percent precise, she wasn’t even sure if this was indeed her dressing room, but her gut was calling it based on this dress only.

It was only when she heard something resembling human voices somewhere far off outside that she snapped out of it and hanged the dress back.

She scurried across the floor to grab her bag and quickly made her way out of the room before anyone could see her, just in case she was somewhere she was actually not supposed to be. Outside, it became clear the voices were coming from down the corridor, where Anna was almost sure the main backstage entrance was.

Clutching her bag tightly to her side, she took a deep breath and tried to force herself into thinking she was cool and relaxed and not actually freaking out so much her soul was slowly leaving her shaky body as she made her way towards the commotion.

She didn’t even take a good ten steps before the door she just passed on her right–bathroom, she noted somewhere in the back of her mind–opened, and out of the corner of her eye she saw a woman in a dark grey blazer join her on the way to the stage.

Probably juststage crew, or one of her co-stars, Anna thought with fake nonchalance, as if anyone could hear her thoughts right now. Co-star. Damn, it felt really good to think-say that. Co-star. She tried to add a little bounce to her step, just to keep the weird confidence boost she was currently experiencing (for no reason at all) rolling until she reached the stage.

But something wasn’t right. There was something odd about the glimpse she got of that woman that seemed to just poke her brain like an irritable itch.

Stealthily, she turned her head ever so slightly to the side, hoping to steal another look. She was a blonde, about Anna’s height. As far as she could tell at this angle, she was looking down at her phone and seemingly paying no attention to Anna at all–even though Anna had to slow down so the woman was now walking faster and was bound to bump into her at any moment.

Strange. Well, not her behavior–that was pretty regular for someone their age. But there was something just off about her, something Anna couldn’t exactly put her finger on. Her eyes strained in their sockets, trying to spot something, anything to make the brain itch stop.

As she inevitably got close enough to possibly cause a collision, the woman glanced up briefly.

Wait, what?

Anna stopped dead in her tracks–and it was just one incoming heart attack away from being literal, not just an expression. Suddenly, her world was cold and sounds muffled, as if someone just threw her in the Atlantic Ocean in the middle of winter without so much as a word of warning.

The woman bumped into her back, so softly Anna barely actually felt it, but enough to knock the phone fell out of the woman’s hand. She immediately stepped away, with her now freed hand flying up to fix her hair behind her ear. “Oh, excuse–”

That timid voice was enough to finally convince her.

“Elsa?”

She stopped halfway into reaching down for her phone and looked up, eyes wide with shock. “A-Anna?”

They stood there for a moment, staring at each other–Anna half turned towards Elsa, still clutching the strap of her bag to her chest like a last resort barrier from this bizarre reality, and Elsa frozen in a half-crouch, with mouth hanging open and arm outstretched at an awkward angle.

Their voices came back at the same time, and in unison they asked the only sane question in this situation. “What are you–”

But they were cut off by a quiet ping and buzz from Elsa’s phone, and they both looked down to see a little digital alarm clock bouncing angrily on the screen.

“Five minutes,” Elsa muttered, finally picking the poor phone up from the floor, and Anna stopped herself from barking ‘I can read!’ back at her. “I, uh– I should go. We should g– d-do you…”

She pointed towards the scene, and it was enough to finish the question.

“Yeah, I…” Anna faltered. She didn’t really even know what to say. She didn’t really know if she wanted to say anything. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Not waiting for Elsa to catch up with her, she quickly started back towards the stage.

***

They were sat down on folding chairs in a neat half circle on the stage–Anna still couldn’t believe she was on the stage–with a handful of people, just off-center to the left, facing an ‘audience’ of roughly over a hundred people that Anna assumed were the ensemble cast, stage crew, the orchestra and various other people involved that didn’t need to be called to the stage now. Her palms were clammy with stress, both from the sudden and unexpected appearance of stage fright (hopefully only because of a possible introduction coming up) and the equally sudden and unexpected encounter in the hallway.

The object of said encounter was sitting on the stage as well.

This couldn’t mean anything good.

“Welcome, everyone,” came suddenly from the other end of the stage in a deep, a little nasal and vaguely familiar voice. Its owner turned out to be a woman presumably in her sixties, with long, flowy silver hair and a sharp expression. “Thank you for coming to our first meeting here at the Resonance Theatre, which some of you may remember–or at least remember being told once used to be a gold star in this district, a truly grand theatre specializing in musical performance. Our goal here today is to bring back glory and splendor to these old walls.”

There was a murmur of approval from the audience.

“My name is Yelana Nattura, and I represent the Resonance Theatre Group in production of our first and very hopefully not last show.” So she was the producer, not the assistant. Anna fought down the urge to slap her face in embarrassment. At least she never said anything about that to anyone. “And this is Destin Mattias, who will be our director for Wicked.”

Another murmur from the audience, along with some clapping while the tall, dark-skinned man that Anna’s already met at the casting rose from his chair. He took a slight bow, first towards the audience, then towards the other people on the stage before sitting back down.

“I assume everyone here is familiar with the original musical. And as you all are, or at least should be aware, we will be putting on a different take on the story,” Yelana continued, pacing on the stage and gesturing widely. “My granddaughter, who’s here with us today, once pointed out to me that at the bottom of it all, Wicked is truly a story of the relationship between Elphaba and Glinda. Some of you may have read the book,” she stopped to gauge the reaction of the crowd, but the only answers were some quiet nervous laughters and a few coughs, “and realize that the popularized musical version has been stripped of a… certain amount of intimacy and subtextual affection between them.”

Anna looked over at Elsa, sitting just a few chairs away from her, but Elsa’s gaze was locked on Yelana.

“Which is why our Wicked will be different. It will be focused more on these girls, their feelings and the relationship between them, both as friends and romantic partners.” The murmur was louder this time, and Anna felt her heart jump into her throat. She’d had some clue of that from the casting, but to hear it said outright somehow made her feel like she’d just swallowed a mouthful of butterflies. “Or, in other words, it will be as gay as possible.”

This time, the audience answered with laughter. Anna looked down at her lap, before looking back up, trying to scan the team. There were a few young women on the stage, and one of them had to be her Glinda.

Her gaze landed on a young girl, sitting with her legs crossed and arm slung over the back of her chair, sporting a relaxed smile. Anna’s eyes dashed back and forth between her and Yelana. There was undeniable resemblance between them, and Yelana mentioned a granddaughter, right?

Surely if she was taking part in all of this Yelana cast her as someone important.

Yelana smiled. “And now that we have your attention, I will pass the nonexistent microphone to Mr. Mattias.”

Mattias stood up again while Yelana moved towards the last, unoccupied chair on the stage.

“Thank you, Yelana,” she said, nodding towards her while she just waved him off. “Obviously, there were some changes necessary to make this happen. We had to change some plot lines and we added and removed a couple of characters and musical numbers…”

Mattias continued his recount of all the changes from regular Wicked to what Anna dubbed the Gay Wicked, and Anna let her eyes wander around the cast again. The two young men sitting next to Yelana’s presumed granddaughter were probably Boq and Fiyero, in whatever order, though there was no way of telling with all the changes to the cast.

Honestly, the entire production was held under such a shroud of mystery that Anna barely even knew what to expect. For all she knew one of the guys could be Nessarose.

Then, her eyes stopped on Elsa again. She was sitting neatly, very Elsa-like as far as Anna remembered her from when they were younger, her attention seemingly focused solely on the director as he moved on to introducing the crew managers on the stage.

What was she doing here? Last Anna knew of her she was still doing who-knows-what on Broadway, but she’d admittedly not stalked her on Facebook for the past month or so. Not that there was ever much she could learn from Elsa’s facebook fanpage, and her private profile was locked to non-friends. Which Anna was. A non-friend. Reduced to absolute stranger.

Frankly, she was quite proud of herself for not slapping Elsa in the hallway–

“…And without further ado, our main cast!” Mattias said enthusiastically, and Anna’s eyes snapped back to him so fast she almost gave herself vertigo. Main cast. Shit, that meant her. She was main cast. Was he going to start with her, or do some sort of a build-up first? What was she supposed to do after the introduction? Should she bow? Say something? Fffffffuck she really should have paid attention to what was happening. Stupid dumb Elsa and her stupid sudden– “As Elphaba, Anna Marshall.”

She sprung up like a jack in the box and turned towards the audience, then without even thinking bowed modestly at the polite applause. Applause. People were applauding her.

A young man suddenly appeared in front of her and pushed something into her hands, which she accepted with a dumb smile. The script, thick and heavy as hell. She clutched it to her chest as she sat down equally mechanically to how she stood up, still not really registering the reality around her.

“As Glinda–” Mattias stopped briefly while the young man scampered out of the way. Anna shook off her dumbstruck haze and looked expectantly to the young girl, her gaze brushing over Elsa’s ghost-white face.

She did a double take. Was Elsa…okay? She looked like she was about to throw up–

“–Elsa Lavoie!”

Oh. Oh.

Now she felt like she was about to throw up.

***

It was after the meeting and she was hurriedly walking away from the theatre, her self-control reserve running dangerously low. She really, really had to find some place where she could be alone and punch something. Maybe scream a bit.

The heavy script in her bag felt like one giant mockery.

She almost reached the corner where she could disappear into the crowd forever, but Elsa managed to catch up with her before that.

“Anna, wait–”

“Go away.”

It was harsh. But damn, she had every right to be harsh and Elsa deserved every last ounce of her bitter mood right now.

“Anna–”

She stopped. “Just go, Elsa!” she shouted, and she was suddenly very glad she decided to take a back alley shortcut. They seemed to be the only people around, even with the masses spilling out of the Resonance. “You had to show up after years and fuck everything up, huh?”

She started to walk away again, but Elsa held her by the sleeve of her jacket.

“Do you think I’m happy with this?” she hissed. Anna turned around to look at her, but where she expected anger there was only sadness in her face. “You think I planned for this, or what?”

Anna sighed and yanked her arm free. “No,” she admitted, taking one step backwards, away from her. Elsa didn’t stop her. “But it’s just so like you to not plan for something and fuck it up anyway.”

Elsa gasped, wide-eyed. “That’s not fair–”

“You had Broadway, Elsa!” she groaned. “Fucking Broadway! This was supposed to be my–”

“Well, I don’t have Broadway anymore,” Elsa interrupted her bitterly, pinching the bridge of her nose in the same way she always used to when she was annoyed. “And yes, I know. Your breakthrough. I’m sorry.”

She said it without so much as a hint of sarcasm or malice, just… defeated. Anna was genuinely taken aback, but that still wasn’t enough to cool down years of pent up anger.

“We should probably tell them.”

Anna snorted. “Tell them what? That they made a casting mistake?” She put up her hand to her phace, mimicking a phone. “Um, hello? Mr. Mattias? Mrs. Nattura? I am terribly sorry but you just so happened to cast my sister as my love interest in the show, so if you could maybe rethink that decision, that would be great! I’m sure there were other equally great actresses auditioning–”

“There weren’t.”

Anna hung up her fake phone call. “What do you mean there weren’t?”

Elsa shrugged. “They called my agent and offered me the role.” And before Anna could say anything, she added. “I had no idea you were auditioning for Elphaba.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck!” Of course. It was her who was the expendable one. If they reported anything like that, they’d do anything to keep Broadway Star Elsa. Literal Nobody Anna stood no chance. “You know what? Fuck this.”

She huffed in exasperation and turned around to walk away again.

“Wait!” Elsa caught her by the wrist this time, and she seriously considered slapping her for that alone. “We didn’t figure anything out–”

“What is there to figure out?” she spat angrily. “You win, I lose. Let me go.”

“No, Anna, it doesn’t–”

“Liten, I’m really trying very hard to stay calm, but if you keep pushing me I swear I’m going to fucking hit you,” she warned her. “I don’t want to talk to you now, Elsa.”

“Alright, sorry.” Elsa let go of her. “How about later?”

Anna sucked air in through her teeth.

“Just– just give me your phone for a moment, please, I’ll put in my number. You can call me when you feel like it.”

There was something about the way she said please, or maybe it was the sheer desperation/determination in her eyes. Like she believed she was able to fix this pile of crap somehow.

With a defeated sigh, Anna took her phone out of the bag.

***

One stompy journey home, greasy junk food dinner and still ongoing relaxing bath later, Anna realized that she couldn’t just stall and ignore the issue forever, and they actually did have to figure something out.

“Hello?”

“It’s me,” Anna said, rolling a glass of wine between her fingers. She looked at the phone lying on a stool next to the bathtub. “You wanted to talk.”

There was a shuffle on Elsa’s side, followed by a groan. “Anna, it’s 2 a.m.”

Alright, so maybe she waited just a bit more than was necessary. And maybe there were some video games and anime involved. For a couple hours. Seven tops.

“So?”

“We have rehearsal at 9.”

“Do we though?” she laughed bitterly. “Did you think up your miracle plan?”

There was a moment of silence. “The only way I see is for me to resign.”

Anna sat up straight, water sloshing around and almost spilling out of the bathtub. “Are you crazy?”

“What else?”

“Elsa, I’m mad at you,” she admitted, and took a sip of the wine. “Like, really mad. Super mad. Words can’t even describe how mad. But I would never forgive myself if you lost your job because of me.”

“I– thank you?” the line went quiet for a moment, before there was a click and more shuffling. “But I don’t want you to miss your chance because of me.”

Anna let out a bitter laugh. “So we didn’t figure anything out. Great.”

Elsa only sighed, then muttered something that Anna couldn’t quite make out, and was almost certain wasn’t directed at her. Was Elsa with someone at the moment? Hell, now that Anna thought about it she wasn’t even sure if Elsa didn’t have some…family, or something. A husband? Maybe some kids. Her fanpage didn’t say anything about any wedding in the last few years, but maybe she was one of those people who fight tooth and nail to keep their private life private.

Or maybe she just had a lover, or a pet, and Anna was in tipsy overthinking mode.

“Unless…”

Anna jumped a little and almost dropped her glass, startled by the sudden crispness of Elsa’s voice. She waited for a moment, but Elsa didn’t seem to want to continue. “Unless what?”

“What if we just…don’t tell them?”

“Weren’t you the one who said we should?”

“Yes, but.” She could hear Elsa tap something on her phone screen. “What if we don’t.”

“And what? We pretend nothing’s wrong?”

“Our surnames don’t match,” Elsa pointed out. “I make sure to never let anyone know anything more than necessary about my personal life, so I’d be surprised if anyone even knew I have a sister.”

Ha. So she was one of those people.

“I don’t exactly boast about being related to you either,” Anna mused. Then, she shook her head. “But that doesn’t matter, Elsa. We can’t do–”

“Why?”

Anna let out an offended gasp.

“Why? Why? Did you even read the script?”

“Not extensively, just the lines they wanted for tomorrow.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “Well, I have. And you know what? Elphaba and Glinda are, like, a regular couple. And they kiss. And sleep together.”

“So?”

“So first of all, ew, second of all, if it somehow got out that we’re sisters after we kissed on the stage… I don’t even know if that’s legal.”

“It’s acting, Anna, not like we would be doing any of that for real. They don’t lock people up for murder scenes.”

“Yeah, but still–”

“We’d have to be careful, for sure. But it’s manageable.”

“Did you hear about the ‘ew’ part?”

“It’s acting,” she repeated. “You’ll get over that.”

Anna hummed.

“Honestly, I’ve kissed much worse and ‘ew’ people than you because acting.”

That made her snicker. Then she shivered–though she didn’t know if it was from disgust at imagining Elsa kissing some sleazy old dude because acting or the fact that the water was turning cold.

“Alright, can I call you back in a moment? I need to get out of the bathtub.”

“Sure, it’s not like I was asleep or anything.”

“Cool.”

She hung up without giving her a chance to say anything more. She stood up and stepped out of the bathtub, almost stepping into the empty takeout box–all that remained of her dinner. Yes, she ate in the bathtub. Big deal.

She reached for a towel to wrap herself and walked out of the bathroom, into the cool apartment.

Could she do that? Elsa made it sound so easy, aside from the whole ‘we’ll need to be sneaky sneaky’ thing, but… though it didn’t feel like that for the past few years, she still was her sister. The same sister who used to sleep with her in the same bed or bathe with her when they were little girls. The sister who bailed on her and disappeared, and generally speaking didn’t occupy a very warm spot in her heart at the moment.

Anna couldn’t really just…kiss her. On the mouth. On a stage. In front of hundreds of people.

It’s acting, Elsa’s voice rang in an echo. Great, she was now a chastising entity in her head. Just what she needed.

But she was right. Anna was an actress. She could act. She definitely could put aside her own feelings of…whatever it was that Elsa was making her feel (loathing? Un-a-dulterated loathing? Fuck, now she had the song stuck in her head) to take her breakthrough play to opening night.

Even if it involved possibly making out with her sister.

Before she launched into actually imagining that, she ran back to grab her phone from the stool, then threw herself on the bed and dialed Elsa’s number again.

“Yeah?”

“Okay, let’s do it.”

[junglekiing]

First, last, next? 👉👈

A'ight, here ye go. I say as I search my stack of papers for my drafts

First:

“Don’t trust the water.”

She muttered her Father’s warning. He was no longer here, but his voice repeated the words over and over in her ears as she took a step off the cold shore.

Last:

"He needs to pay for what he's done."

A cold fire lit deep in Elsa's eyes at the words.

Next:

"We'll see to it he does." [this is actually where a scene breaks I just didn't write the final line till this specific ask lmao why]

[comickergirl]

Hii might i say i LOVE your art? I mean, the line quality is flawless. It's flow looks so confident and relaxed. It gives the shapes this very soft and smooth and clean texture and i'm in love with it 😍😍 also the colors you use are beautiful too

Oh, wow, thank you so much! :D

[isamiral-soulwolf]

And another one that I dropped into the ask box, posting it here to preserve italics; I should... probably look into figuring out how to get an American keyboard to do accents at some point if I’m going to keep doing this, huh.

(Special shoutout to the anon who suggested mixing hanahaki symptoms with soulmate AU; Isabela was the original sufferer but I can never ignore angst. I’m a goblin.)

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As a rule, Dolores didn’t like being angry. She heard enough anger in the village—people whispering behind each others’ backs, arguments so loud they made her ears ring long after she had managed to find some silence. She preferred not to think about how many arguments she’d broken up among the families in the valley that had descended into violence after starting with anger. Anger wasn’t an emotion Dolores liked, and as a rule she did her absolute best to avoid it via communication with her loved ones and knowing when to back off and take some time to herself.

Now, though? Right now, listening to the sound of Mirabel’s ragged breathing and Pepa’s soothing words, Dolores was angry. So angry that when she reached out to the doorknob of Isabela’s door—she couldn’t even bother with knocking—she completely failed to notice the warning thorns. The sting of pain in her palm and along her fingers was her reward and she yelped, jerking her hand back with a hiss and sticking a few fingers into her mouth to try and stop the blood.

Thorns on the doorknob. Not a good sign. Cooler emotion swam through the haze of Dolores’ mind following the pain. Maybe she should wait. Give Isabela time to calm down from whatever had set her off during her time in town—

For a single horrific second, Mirabel stopped breathing.

Dolores froze as the silence ran an icy chill down her spine, and it felt like she couldn’t breathe. The thought began to take hold that maybe she’d need to abandon talking to Isabela for an entirely different reason, but Pepa had noticed it just as quickly—

Felix! Felix, I need your help! Please!

And then her father was there, her big, warm, strong father with his kind voice and his gentle hands, and Dolores heard several hard thumps before Mirabel wheezed, releasing a hacking cough that collapsed into a helpless sob.

That’s it, Mirabel, that’s it, Felix’s voice was low and warm, Pepa gently hushing her niece’s cries. Tia and Tio are here, we’ve got you. Can you drink for us, sweetheart?

Oh, fuck this.

Dolores grabbed the knob, heedless now of the warning thorns, and slammed her shoulder into the door. “Isabela! Open up! We need to talk!”

Silence.

Fuck this.

“Isabela, I swear to God if you don’t open up I’m going to kick this door down—”

The door swung open before Dolores could finish her threat, and she stumbled into the room along with it, nearly losing her grip on the knob as the thorns retracted. She grimaced and closed the door behind her, and when she turned around Isabela was getting up from her bed with a raised eyebrow and an unamused expression. “The thorns mean stay away, you know.”

Dolores didn’t much care about the thorns or her bleeding hand. “What did you do,” she said.

Isabela rolled her eyes. “It’s been a long day, Dolores, you’re going to need to be more specific than that—”

Dolores crossed the room in several strides, propelled by nothing more than fury as she grabbed Isabela’s arm and yanked her in. “Mirabel just had a hanahaki attack so bad she stopped breathing,” she hissed.

It was almost impressive really, that Dolores could pinpoint the exact moment all of the blood drained from Isabela’s face. “What,” she croaked.

“Hanahaki attacks that bad don’t happen overnight, we all know that,” which, God, had Mirabel been hiding this? How long had she been keeping this to herself for it to get to this point, that—that was a whole other spiral Dolores couldn’t afford to go into right now, “and hanahaki attacks only happen because of a severed or damaged soul bond. Mirabel doesn’t know who her soul mate is, she couldn’t do anything to the bond.”

Isabela was staring at her, stunned and heartbroken. If Dolores had been able to think at all through her own anger, she might have felt sorry for her.

For the moment, though, all she could remember was the silence.

“Isabela.” It was hoarse. “What did you do.”

[isamiral-soulwolf]

Posting this here because I dropped it in an ask box and it’s unchanged except for some italics that didn’t carry over from Word; I originally sent this in as part of the IsaMira soulmate AU

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There were often benefits to being Casita’s favorite Madrigal.

Mirabel didn’t think Alma or Julieta would have heard her anyway, judging by the tone of their current argument, but it was always better to be safe than sorry when she was doing something like this. Tuning out the argument between her mother and grandmother was easy when she followed Casita’s guidance, moving her steps to avoid the boards that made noise and keeping her breathing quiet. With luck, Alma would be distracted for long enough she could accomplish her end goal.

She knew the way to Isabela’s room like the back of her hand, but she wiped her hand against her skirts as she saw what had been waiting for her if she had grabbed the knob without thinking; thorns bristled along the metal, a nasty surprise for anyone Isabela wanted to keep out of her room. Not a good sign. In all her life, Mirabel could remember only a handful of times Isabela’s doorknob had manifested thorns.

“Isa.” She kept her voice low, and prayed her sister would hear her. “Isa, it’s me. Can I come in?”

For a moment, Mirabel thought Isabela hadn’t heard her or was ignoring her; with the wavering of their relationship recently, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d done so. But the thorns shuddered and faded after another moment, and Mirabel grabbed the knob with more confidence than she felt, closing the door quietly behind her.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Isabela’s voice was watery, and when Mirabel glimpsed her sister she was curled up on her bed, knees pulled up to her chest as she watched her younger sister come closer. “What if Abuela saw you?” Mirabel took in Isabela’s red eyes, the way she wiped at her nose as she made her way up to the bed and cautiously sat on the edge. Maybe it was her imagination, but the usually bright pink petals of Isabela’s room seemed a little duller than usual. “She hasn’t seen me yet.”

Isabela rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she looked away. “One day she’s going to, you know.”

“Ouch, thanks for the confidence.”

Isabela did smile this time, something tired and amused as she met Mirabel’s gaze, before she looked away again. Mirabel shifted closer. “You’ve got flowers in your hair,” she murmured.

“It was…” Isabela swallowed. “It was a bad argument. With Mom.” Mirabel knew. She’d heard. She was pretty sure everyone in the Encanto with ears had heard. “Do you want me to get you out of here?”

Isabela blinked and looked at her, baffled. “What?”

“So you can see Mariano? Just seems like, you know…” Mirabel gestured vaguely, hating how words always failed her when it came to her sister’s future husband. “A thing. To do. Since he’s your soul mate and all. He could help you feel better and stuff.”

Isabela blinked again, then laughed softly. “Thank you, Mira,” she said, and this time her smile was warm and it met her eyes. “But I don’t want to go see Mariano.”

“Okay. Um, do you want to talk about it? Or be left alone? I mean, your doorknob had thorns on it, you probably wanted to be left alone—”

“I let you in.” It was amused.

“Well yeah, but you could just be being nice!” “Mira.” It was another laugh. “Get these flowers out of my hair, please.”

Right, okay. That was a pretty clear message. Isabela didn’t want to talk about it, and Isabela didn’t want her to leave. Mirabel could do that. Mirabel could stay.

Mirabel would always stay, if Isabela asked.

Mirabel scooted completely onto the bed with the intent of reaching up to start the process of removing flowers from Isabela’s hair, but it seemed the older woman had another idea in mind; when Mirabel was close enough Isabela shifted, curling up on her side and resting her head in her sister’s lap with a sigh so world weary it threatened to crack her heart right in half. Mirabel swallowed, took a deep breath, and started the quiet, careful process of untangling wild flowers from Isabela’s hair.

Neither of them spoke, but the silence was almost content; at some point Isabela’s eyes drifted shut while Mirabel worked, her hand resting trustingly on her knee, and there was a point where Mirabel almost wondered if Isabela had fallen asleep, exhausted from the argument with Julieta and the words that had been said.

Isabela only stirred when Mirabel had removed the last flower from her hair, gently smoothing out any resulting knots. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, sure. These are pretty.” Mirabel glanced at the small pile she’d made, more colorful than the usual she associated with Isabela; a small gathering of sunflowers, tulips, and a few bits of lavender.

Isabela hummed, absently taking Mirabel’s hand. “You like them?”

“Yeah. They’re different, but nice. You make—nice flowers.”

Isabela was quiet for a moment, gently playing with Mirabel’s fingers, before she spoke again. “Do you want them?”

Mirabel blinked once. Twice. Three times. Yep, she’d heard that correctly. “You mean like, as a pin or something?” “A hair pin, a bouquet, whatever you want. I’ll just get rid of them if not, and they’d look good on you.”

Right. Okay. Don’t overthink that, she’s just being nice. Sisters were nice like this, right? Right.

Mirabel swallowed, inhaled deeply when Isabela twined their fingers together. “I’d love to keep them.”

Isabela peeked up at her almost shyly, and her smile was so blinding in that moment that Mirabel decided that even if Alma found them now it would be totally worth it.