Splitting strings was supposed to be impossible. Things that are meant to be together, things that are elemental, things that are fundamental, should never be riven. But because she'd felt it, known it, experienced it, searched it, sat with it, become it, Brittany stumbled on how.
It started as a thought experiment. She found when she quieted her body enough, for long enough, when she concentrated simply on her breath going in and out, in… and out…, she began to see individual strings. Sometimes there were weak points. Or… not weak exactly, more like… persuadable.
In the stillest, quietest moments, she found she could persuade those persuadable points by feeling herself deeply deeply split.
And because she was so deeply split, apart from her other half by happenstance, one day, so did one of the strings. It— they— allowed her to capture them. With her mind.
She told no one. She knew they'd all think she was cracked. She captured the split string ends— the strands— and nurtured them in matching pocket watches she found in a second hand store. They told her, or something told her, somehow she knew, that this was a one-time-only deal.
Open one of the watches, and that strand would spring across space and time to reunite with its mate. The pocket watch would become a ticket to ride. And having been apart, the strands would never be persuadable again. They belonged together.
Like Brittany and Santana.
Despite the distance, despite the time, despite the ache, they belonged together. And they would be together again.
In time.