mother of god I haven't posted anything in like two years
There was a stillness that settled in the night. Stagnant but for the mild breeze sweeping down from the mountaintops. Stars flickered infrequently in the deep woods and the ancient evergreen trunks echoed with the sounds of night. An owl's hoot, the chattering of cicadas, the call of the lone coyote hidden somewhere against the black sky.
Crickets played a low tune as leather boots crunched over dead needles and beaten-down soil. A pair of feet were lost to the sounds of the nocturnal philharmonic practicing in the late night. One might argue the rhythmic steps made for great percussion.
He had come out further to clear his head, away from his sister's coal-hot grins and the thick smoke of a campfire. Nothing could clog her nose, and she was onto something he wasn't aware was happening. He should have the upper hand with his own mind, but a twin defeated independence. A twin knew everything and why.
He didn't know what, and he certainly didn't know why.
What was she chiding him about again? Oh, right–the blonde.
Which was hypocritical of her since she kept lusting over the other blond–was his hair even blond? White? Powdered? Prematurely gray?–but she didn't give a second thought to her vices, always playing a two-faced devil. Disregarding her own shallow infatuations, she pried into something he barely knew was an idea outside of his subconscious.
Sure, she wasn't an eyesore, but she wasn't…great. Goofy, definitely. Far too goofy for him. He was staunch and serious and had less time for games than Mabel. He didn't like the psychological torture and preferred being straight and to the point of the sword. His manner was clip, and he had no patience for silly girls.
Silly, dumb girls who could never coordinate their jewelry with their clothes. Silly dumb girls who stuck their noses in books where they didn't belong, or called out psychics who were, in fact, the real thing. You'd think being forced to hang midair by your ankles for a few minutes would prove something.
Turning a corner in the trail with an angry step, the sound of voices swum loftily in the air. Close voices. Not his sister's voice.
Heel against a tree, he kicked himself up into the branches, grateful for remembering to wear his amulet. In the day the sun fed his energy, but at night, Mabel was strong under the moon, not he. If he wanted to float, he needed a rock.
The white-blue beams of flashlights hit his eyes before the speakers came into view. Their light colored hair shimmered in the weak moonlight.
"…And I'm pretty sure I was trying, Gid. It's not like I wasn't making an effort." It was a girl's voice, confident but bubbly.
"I didn't say you weren't, but I don't think it's going to work the way we want it to. We're missin' something, but what, I dunno. Seems like a pretty important something." Southern twang, still a bit short, stupid hat. Gideon.
Dipper groaned internally, hoping they wouldn't notice him this high in the canopy. The last thing he wanted to do was engage Giddy Up in conversation, if you could call it that. Also had zero interest in being condescending and territorial in front of Paz the Spazz. The less frightening he looked, the better.
The less he referred to her as that, out loud or not, the better.
Holding his breath, they managed to pass without glancing upwards to look at the cloudy sky and blotted moon. They missed him entirely, though how, he had no clue. The amulet was glowing softly under his collar.
"Wait a moment, Gideon."
The girl swung around and stalked up to his tree, throwing her flashlight's beam up the gnarled trunk. "Dipper Gleeful, what a surprise."
His hands flew to his eyes and he hissed. "Turn that damn thing off, you're blinding me."
"Wouldn't be a tragedy. What the hell are you doing up there anyway? Spying?"
"On you?" He laughed, standing up on the thick, twisted branch. "Maybe in some parallel dimension. The two of you hardly say anything interesting."
"Then quit skulking around the Shack if we're so boring. Doesn't make sense to send mixed messages."
"Paz–"
She turned to Gideon. "No, we've backed down from them enough. I've taken enough shit form Mabel to last a lifetime."
"Then go pick your bones with her," Dipper suggested calmly, leaping effortlessly to the forest floor. "She shouldn't be too far ahead."
"And then you'll come corner us and we're toast. Great plan."
"I have no dirt or qualms with either of you without her around. Seriously, if you're itching, go find her."
Pacifica's stance faltered and she lay her hand on Gideon's shoulder. It boiled Dipper's blood.
"Seeing you is enough to stomach for one night, but thanks."
"You'd do well to actually be thankful I don't call her now. She's still gaga over the albino–"
"I'm not an albino!"
"–and you're tolerable in some lights." His face was too close to hers, the darkness a cloth barrier blocking out the emotion in her eyes. Her teeth were bared and she looked ready to spring.
From his scalp to his clavicle the world was too hot.
She sized him up and met his gaze with a fierceness in her brow. "In some lights you're not a complete monster."
Leaning in so his nose nearly touched the shell of her ear, her breath was quick and loud by his eardrum. In a soft tone he gave a calm command. "Run."
Gideon whipped Pacifica around by the arm and the two shot off back the way they came, not wanting to see if Dipper would sing like a snake and bring his sister howling.
In truth, that was the last thing he wanted while his heat flung itself against the walls of his ribs, urging him to barrel after the girl.