FAM, MEET FAM

"Ow." Shand runs his teeth along the inside of his mouth, concluding that it probably could have been much worse for him and accepting the retribution.

"But really, did that knock my eyes back straight or something?"

He mutters it under his breath, following her and getting as close as he can without climbing out of the window himself. He peers over the ledge where she's standing. It's a long way down. He ignores his own statement and continues.

"Uh, a good mopping up might also be necessary, which I️ would be happy to do for you sometime if so desired. Possibly also slight remodel. Some wall work." He knows that he's continuing to talk to try and postpone the inevitable, as he really doesn't want to jump out of that window, especially from this devastating height.

Sure, he lives on the edge. But there have been more than enough edges today to make him want to straighten up and fly right for at least several full days, if not more.

Then, something comes back to him suddenly, and the fun and games and foolish disappears from his eyes.

"Oh, uh, Luna." His brow furrows as he fishes in his pocket. "Before we get back with all the others around, I️ was hoping you could tell me anything I️ need to know about this."

He finally locates what he's looking for and proceeds to pull out of his pocket the small ring that he had received from Nameless's room of chaos earlier that day.

It takes a lot to rip her eyes from the deadly view but she manages, glancing down at him from where he refuses to stand on the ledge of their escape route.

Her eyes widen like he has just pointed a gun right in her face and is smiling all the while. The sight of the ring stops her heart cold for an uncomfortably long amount of time before it remembers that it has to beat for her to live.

Trembling but expression smooth, having regained at least that composure, she reaches down and removes the glove on her right hand. There on her ring finger rests an identical ring to his.

“Believe it or not, Name and Olvreign are the same species, but their kind takes multiple forms, hence the differences in their appearances. Their kind has the ability to control crystal the way I control fire and you control whatever that blue lightning is. There’s a catch: Each controls the same type of crystal but can manipulate it differently. Olvreign can create those crystal pawns out of any living creature and decimate an entire world. Name can use the crystals to erase existence or rewind time.”

There’s a pause as she determines how much she can say without giving, what Nameless would consider, too much information.

“Name… He’s weaker than Olvreign because, technically speaking, he’s still a child in relation to how his species ages. He never matured past what I think is our equivalent of a ten-year old. His knowledge is far above and beyond that, obviously, but he’s been alive for thousands of years so of course. It’s just that his control of his species’ specific power could never mature beyond that. He stopped aging when he created his first dimension and Olvreign stripped him of emotions so, while Olvreign can control these crystals at will, Name has to do it in small amounts. This ring is…”

Again, she seems to struggle with her wording. She seems as awed and fascinated by the ring as she is terrified of it. Or, rather, terrified of her interest in it.

“He can’t understand how people with martyr complexes work so, in his mind, this ring with the power to erase your very existence is a gift. If you hate your life so much as to want it to end any chance you get, why not just never have been born? If you’re in that much pain, then here is your out. The rewinding time by an hour or two is just a side effect of his specific twist on crystal manipulation.”

She twists the ring around her finger, taking in each glimmer and shift in color, brow furrowed as she struggles with her own thoughts on the matter.

“It’s… More appealing than anyone could ever know, including Name and he’s the one who created them for us. My life has never been my own and it’s more than tiring after a while, so why not have no life to begin with? I have had this ring for ninety years and I still can’t bring myself to destroy it because, just know the out is there if I ever need it, is morbidly comforting.”

Echoes of memories play out on the ground far below them, forms of people with just a little too much detail to be random strangers and figments walk along, carrying on with their lives in just too much of a specific way. These are people she knew and knew well enough to recreate, not only their looks, but mannerisms and speech and even think up their actions in a daily setting. No one seems to notice the two above ready to throw themselves down to their demise.

“Over a hundred years and you’d think it would get easier, but it doesn’t. Sometimes I actually get jealous of Name’s lack of feeling. He can’t begin to know the pain of everyone turning their backs on you and then realizing you still care about each of them, despite the immense seemingly unbearable hurt they caused, as they lie on their deathbeds one-by-one.”

Shand suddenly regrets the question, watching the complex emotions play out on Luna’s face and seeing the future of his own struggle in her eyes.

She plays with the ring almost compulsively, and watching her touch it makes him want to slip his on his finger, admire it, polish the crystal and feel the smoothness of it.

But there is a startle of a spark in him, somewhere deep inside, way beyond his fingertips this time, and he feels jolted.

“Isn’t... isn’t that what we were just fighting the rapey lady for? Having no life, having no emotions or will. They might as well be the same thing.”

He swallows hard, watching over the ledge at the world she’s populated with her pain.

He imagines the faces of people he knows superimposed on the ones walking around below them. His family, friends that have already betrayed him.

This will be him in 100 years, he’s nearly certain of it. How could it not be? The sentence to life for eternity might as well be a death sentence or worse.

There are worse things than death, and he can see before his eyes now that Luna has suffered through all of them, and he will, too.

The gashes on his face burn a little as he thinks, and he turns away to stare at the floor. A sudden compulsion has come over him, and he doesn’t want to look Luna in the eye while he struggles with it.

Eternity is a hell of a long time. This moment is nothing, it’s passing, the impulses and emotions of this moment are dust, floating off into the vastness of time and space where they will be utterly forgotten like they never even existed, in the light of the next hundred years, the next thousand. Million.

Can he really trust what he wants to do now, live with the consequences of it for all eternity?

Well, if not, he realizes, he might as well give up his will and emotion now. And after a day like this one, he’s not in the giving up mood.

With one last glance at Luna, he tosses the ring back behind him, letting it clatter loudly off more crystal.

He joins he on the ledge. “Let’s go now before I change my mind.”

Her eyes snap to the discarded ring and it takes everything in her to not run and grab it for herself. It’s not like she can doubly erase her existence but she seems to find so much comfort in the idea of doing so that she’d be willing to attempt the wish twice.

But she doesn’t want to alarm Shand with her desperate actions. Sure, he’s had a long look into her mind to see how she works but he doesn’t need to see it play out anymore than possible if she can help it.

With a hard swallow, she forces her gaze back down to the ground below, slipping her glove back on her ring, keeping her’s hidden.

“Don’t... Tell anyone about mine.”

The slight tone of irritation mixed with annoyed awe is hard to miss as she begs him to keep her secret. In a matter of seconds he was able to do what she’s wanted to do for a century. He’s stupid but determined and she admires that about him in this moment but is also incredibly jealous, angry she can’t also be this way. Shouldn’t she be More this way than he is? She’s had much more time to process her long painful life than he has.

She can’t linger on this any longer. She’ll drive herself back into a dark corner of her mind if she does, so she distracts herself with their escape.

“This is going to hurt for a second. You’re going to feel the impact. But the impact is what sends you back to reality.”

Carefully, she steps forward. It’ll happen just like it always does. She’ll fall and in the split moment before the sound of all her bones snapping, she’ll see everyone waiting below. The second before the escape is the worse than the second of impact then freedom.

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“At least this day has a continuous theme with the whole pain thing,” Shand flashes a crooked grin to try and help ease her obvious discomfort.

He adds, a little more softly. “Secrets safe with me... although, I️ can’t make any promises about that thing from when you were ten. Sorry.”

He holds back a snicker and leans over the edge, closing his eyes and letting the wind rush across his face.

This, he thinks. This is being alive.

“Bet I’ll beat you to the bottom.”

And he falls.

“I hate him…”

She smiles a bit, watching him fall. Not too long after, she flings herself after him.

The impact forces air out of her lungs and she has to sit up from the wood floor to gather all the air she can. Sweat and tears fling from her hair and face with the movement and the air burns her raw throat.

It’s in that moment she notices this pain is real. The floor below her is real. There’s slight comfort in that.

“Luna!”

Ivor stares at her bloodshot eyes in disbelief as she looks around at all of them, threatening to cough up a lung from breathing too quickly.

She manages a tired grin and weak wave right before she falls on her back to the floor with a thud, her chest rising and falling, eyes closed in utter exhaustion.

“Tired?”

Nameless looks back and forth between Luna and Shand, only vaguely curious in how they’re doing but he feels the need to ask anyways.

Luna coughs in reply. Something about everyone standing around with worry etched into their faces, staring and waiting for a response to know they’re okay shakes her down to her core. She has to throw an arm over her eyes to block the forming tears from sight, cursing her tired mind for not being able to hold it together.

The ring on her finger feels tight and constricting but it serves to quickly remind her of something.

Without removing her arm from over her eyes, she quietly, almost afraid of the answer she may receive, or even silence that may follow, calls out.

“…Shand?”

“Mmm?” Shand opens his eyes to the fuzzy sound in the distance, blinking away fog and the pain that’s hurtling him back to reality.

He looks around with clearing vision, sees Nameless peering at him, his father’s face that seems to him to have aged ten years in however long he’s been gone, and Lunath, who’s staring in utter relief at the floor.

Where Luna’s laying, chest heaving, arm slung over her face. Very much alive and not screaming or covered in crystal.

Shand lets the air whoosh loudly out of his lungs and he tries to laugh away the built up nerves, but it comes out as a cough.

“I️ swear, if you ever pick a fistfight with another rapey goddess again, you’re on your own, Lunatic.”

Shand struggles to sit up from where he’s laying awkwardly on his back at the foot of the bed, wincing at an ache in his ribs.

He makes eye contact with Luna for just a moment, and his mouth twitches in a secretive smile.

“My god.” Dolan breathes out like he’s been holding his breath all this time.

Before anyone can say anything else, he strides to Shand and starts checking his face over, touching it and surveying the gashes.  

“What the hell happened in there?”

“Oh, Lunatic just smacked me. No big deal.”

The blame is enough to move her arm from over her watery eyes, shooting Shand an absolutely dirty look, like a child being told on by their sibling.

“Nothing you didn’t deserve.”

The way he avoids bringing up Olvreign in response to Dolan keeps her quiet on the matter and she plays along with whatever he’s trying to get going.

Nameless sighs from above them on the bed, shaking his head, clearly knowing something more than a slap took place but he doesn’t

“Looks like the two of you are closer than ever. Who would have thought the quiet Luna and loud Shand would be best friends.”

The fox seems perturbed by the development more so than anything that’s happened before, unable to wrap his head around how, out of everyone in the group, these two would become buddy-buddy.

“Sorry, Dolan… Shand had it coming.”

Luna tries to keep the mood light in the face of Dolan’s obvious concern.

“I️ think that lamp must have been an heirloom or something.” Shand waves his hand inconsequentially, forcing himself to sit up all the way.

When he turns, he catches Nameless’s eyes and sees something new in them. There is a questioning there, like he knows there is much more that neither Luna nor Shand is saying. Like he also knows that nothing can compel them to give up those secrets.

There is a new softness somehow, Shand feels, when he looks into Nameless’s eyes and sees a potential world devoid of color and the pain and feeling. He suddenly feels sorry for any of the attitude he’s thrown Nameless’s way, or the moments he failed in compassion.

“Well, we’re back none the worse for wear, so that’s all that matters.” Shand says, mostly to close the matter for everyone standing around with curious looks on their faces.

Shand looks down now to see the tiniest dark black spot coursing down the vein in his arm get overtaken by the light, which then flickers and fades altogether.

“So long, Corruption. Catch you on the flip side, I️ guess.”

Dolan shoots Shand an unappreciative look at his flippancy, but Shand doesn’t really care. The exhaustion that’s been growing all day is at an all time high.

“Nameless, Buddy, I️’d give anything to be back at that bar right now. Please tell me that’s in the cards.”

“Boring.”

Nameless yawns at the request, curious as to why Shand’s gaze keeps lingering on him longer than usual now.

“I think we could all use drinks, fox.”

Trita shoots him a glare but it does little to move the creature to action, brushing off the distaste just like he does everything else.

“Carefully, little bunny. Foxes eat rabbits for every meal of the day.”

Her eyes widen at the unexpected threat but Nameless’s tone is still indifferent and he seems to have completely forgotten Shand requested anything in the first place.

“Name, please.”

His ears twitch at the sound of Luna’s voice. It looks like he really does want to look over at her but he does anyway, exchanging a long quiet stare with her. The two have some sort of silent conversation with each other that Luna seems to have won, causing the fox to stand on the bed with a sigh.

“Alright, alright.”

The door to the shack closes on its own, locking everyone inside. After a couple of seconds, Nameless sits down. No one in the room moves or talks, clearly confused by what just took place. The scene was awkward and short with no indication of purpose.

“What are you all waiting for? Open the door and go back out into the bar.”

Sure enough, when Trita opens the door, the old bar from what feels like ages ago is before them, glasses and bottles where everyone left them.

Shand eases himself up off the bed with a grimace, taking stock of all the new places that hurt at first, and then marveling that it’s not any worse than he is.

His mind is elsewhere. Still back in Luna’s mind, perhaps, maybe stuck in trying to get into Nameless’s. Maybe wondering at what is going through his father’s and what it will be like when he dies and Shand is alone.

Without thinking about what’s he’s doing, he crosses the floor and takes Luna’s hand to pull her up off the floor.

When he catches strange looks from the others, when he realizes what he’s doing, he almost pulls his hand from hers and lets her fall back against the wood floor, but stops that mid-motion and simply pulls her to her feet as quickly as possible, avoiding her eyes and moving away just as quickly.

He is the first one through the door to the bar, where he doesn’t even ask for Trita’s help but slides his hand around the other end of the bar and emerges with a tall bottle of something clear. He calls through the open door to the others, who are making their way inside.

“I’m going to catch a nap. In the VERY back room this time.”

He moves gingerly, almost limping but not quite, into the room that he had originally been bound for, before all of this hell had been unleashed.

He can see clearly now that it has been his fault. It was his reckless stubbornness that turned the doorknob on Nameless’s void room, that had gotten angry at the end and sent them all into a hostile dimension, gotten himself possessed and Luna almost killed.

The same reckless stubbornness that had discarded that ring in Luna’s subconsciousness. He has to question now whether it had been anything other than selfishness that had drove him to that.

With all the pain he’s caused today, he can’t imagine how badly he’ll screw things up and how many lives he’ll accidentally take if he has an eternity to run rampant through. Maybe keeping the ring and ending his own existence would have been the humane thing to do, not for him, but for everyone around him and really all of humanity.

He eases back into a simple bedframe along the back wall, taking a long swing of the alcohol before he falls back. He is so, so tired. His mind keeps poking at itself, asking these hard questions that he feels too raw to contemplate.

Instead, he closes his eyes after another long, long pull of the liquor, and sleeps.

And dreams.

He’s back in the clearing that has haunted him all day. The animals carcasses are still littering the ground, still rotting, still fetid and swarming with screaming flies.

The wolf is nowhere to be found. This time, where he wolf had been standing before, Shand can see an animal twitching in the tall grass, making the stalks wave sporadically.

All of a sudden he is on top of the scene, with an aerial view as a bluebird with deep, plum feathers flinches in the grass, emanating pitiful and desperate cries as blood spurts out in heartbeat rhythm from its neck.

On its chest is a tiny, almost indiscernible black marking in the shape of a crescent moon.  

The vision doesn’t last long, and Shand bolts right out of the bed as he awakens, knocking over the liquor bottle, embedding glass in his hands and arms as he pushes himself again the wall, trying to stand, his heart pounding and eyes closed tight as he understands this glimpse into the future and tries to will it away.

"You should leave the future telling of people in my world to me."

Nameless sits at the floor of the bed, having ignored Shand's request for a nap on his own, and the display of shock and fear doesn't bother the fox. Actually, it's obvious he seems to know exactly what Shand saw, more or less. Maybe not too much about the bird, more the gist of the dream and whose fate he saw sealed away.

His eyes are knowing. Always too knowing.

"You're going to ruin things again panicking like that, Shand. As your babysitter, I think it's my job to keep you in check. I will admit to having failed but I'll try harder this time."

The fox speaks tirelessly, never allowing Shand a moment to interrupt, question, utter a single word about what he saw or what Nameless means. The building shakes like a large wave is flowing over and through it, tearing it apart, suspending the space and people in it as everything is rebuilt yet again.

"Some things must happen so forget what you saw."

Trying to distract Shand, lights flash everywhere, blinding him and, when they fade, lively instrumental music demands the utmost attention.

The bar is still here but entirely different, the aura and aesthetic are like a new building. A new era. Everything that has happened is washed away and an entirely new, more outlandish, if that were possible, setting is before them.