(A/N: What's up Touhou fandom! All you need to know about this fic is that I have a big gay crush on Marisa and I wanted to write about Marisa having a big gay crush on someone else. It's gonna get R-18 later so beware. Thank you!)

Humans seek out warm places where they can hide away and be safe. They wrap themselves in blankets and curl up next to the fireplace and breathe in the smoky air and the scent of burning wood and sleep the thunder storms away. They reach out to hands who promise to protect and comfort then and keep a gentle hold to ensure those reassuring fingertips do not slip away. It's human nature to escape the cold and snow and rain and all the scary things and dart back under the covers and keep every inch of them covered in case some monster were to claw at their toes. And they dream of guardian angels to keep their arms wrapped around them and shield them from the world with enormous wings of untainted white feathers.

That is why being pursued by something we know to be dangerous makes our pulse quicken like it does. We feel exposed like all eyes are on us and struggle to move our shaking legs to carry us faster away from the source of our discomfort. We will never grow accustomed to the tingling sensation of knowing we are the prey.

Well, some will more than others, I suppose.

With eyes blinking rapidly to repel the incoming flakes of snow and rosy cheeks melting the ice on contact, she tightens her numbed and stinging fingers around the rough wood of the broomstick between her legs and lunges forward, paying no attention to the scenery around her turning into a white and blue blur. Parts of her bare face, arms, and neck begin to sting, whether from the burning cold or the projectiles being hurled at her, she was unsure. The edges of her black dress whipped at her thighs and strands of hair tickled at the nape of her neck. Her lips, pale and dry from the cold, parted in voiceless shock when a particularly sharp pain appeared near her elbow. Her golden eyes stray from their path for a brief moment to notice the warm blood flowing down her arm and dripping off her wrist. The skin the red liquid touched was heated for a brief moment before going twice as cold, and the temperature of the wound itself makes her think that she might have been stabbed with an icicle that had jammed itself straight into her bones.

That one moment her eyes twitched to her arms proves to be her downfall. She feels herself make a noticeable dip downward, narrowly avoiding another gray blur overhead. She cries out in frustration as she seizes the end of her broomstick and yanks it upwards to avoid collision with the ground, feeling her bangs suddenly lift from her forehead and exposing it to the sharp air. At this moment she is unable to tell which way is up, as the whole world is stifled with thick white. And before she can even gather her thoughts her neck slams into some unseen force and her eyelids jump open and her vision turns blurry. A shock rolls through her entire body, each muscle tensing up and allowing the broomstick to slip through her legs, before she relaxed and felt her clothes absorbing the moisture of the snow below her.

Her pursuer's feet touched the ground much more gracefully and our protagonist felt another short shock and her legs twitch, making her knees rub against each other. She stares upward without blinking and feels a tremendous urge to run in her veins, strong enough for her to lift her heavy body off the ground and make a mad dash for her broom. The heel of one shoe and the toe of another both hit some solid object at the same time and she is sent face first into the snow yet again. Whimpering in frustration, she snatches the broom and intends to jump onto it but her legs don't let her, and she is forced to cling to the uneven wood for dear life as it leaps off the ground and speeds, spinning out of control, in whatever which way it felt. She can't help but shut her eyes tightly as fear finally claims control of her small body, and in the few seconds she was blind, she felt yet another crash, this time to the side of her head and her shoulders. This time, rather than snow, whatever she hit cracked apart and flung splinters into her face before she hit a much softer object and her hands slapped against a stone floor. After that it was dreadfully silent and she was far too tired to move.

After she let herself rest right where she was, she became aware of the quick and panicked breathing coming from underneath her. Her pulse races again as she thinks that the breathing sounds similar to a choking child, and she grips the stone beneath her hands with the last of her strength and takes her weight off of whatever was underneath her. Her eyelids flutter open like one wakes up from a light sleep, and her vision adjusts so she could finally see the woman she had landed on.

Marisa stared for a brief amount of time before a pang of pain hit the back of her head, and she scratched gingerly at her hair, moaning with pain. "Ahh, that dumb maid really got me this time…" she whined, shutting her eyes yet again to block out the light from the room, which only fueled her headache. "More importantly, where am I…?"

The woman with the look of disbelief on her face finally spoke up. Her blonde hair, which had been tucked away in a ponytail, had been thrown about by the impact of her fall and strands of gold hovered over her frightened green eyes. "Excuse me…?"

It hit Marisa once more that she was sitting on a person, and she bolted upright. "Oh - man - Ah, the door!" she exclaimed, raising a small the small octagonal furnace tucked away in her dress to the sky. Words the woman didn't quite understand flew from her lips, and a small fire started to burn inside of the furnace. She covered her face as a strong wind swept itself around the room, letting in more snow, and returned her attention to the strange girl in front of her in time to see the flame burn itself out. Then Marisa turned toward her.

"We're safe now," she stated simply, hoping to also imply that she didn't intend to hurt her. It was pointless, however, as the owner of the house was shaking with her hands clutched to her chest. Marisa frowned and extended a hand to her to help her up, stumbling a bit as her center of balance was thrown off. "I said it's okay. I cast a spell on this building so the maid won't be able…to…" Her voice trailed off as she noticed the woman wasn't listening, or even looking her in the eye anymore. She was staring fearfully at the hand Marisa had held out, watching scarlet blood stain her fingernails.

Unexpectedly, her next move was to clasp onto Marisa's hand and rub her own soft palm against hers. "Oh, honey, you're bleeding," she said in a distressed voice which struck Marisa deep within her ribcage. She became aware of the fact she was bleeding in more than one place, and the cuts from Sakuya's knives that she hadn't seen before began to flare with pain.

"Oh, it's no big deal," Marisa tried to brush her off, but the childish break in her voice made it clear that it didn't feel so insignificant, especially the soreness in her neck from her first contact with the ground. To further prove how big of a deal it was, after those words left her lips, she staggered to the side once more and the feeling in her legs left once again. She was sent spiraling towards the ground but a pair of arms locked around her back, and Marisa's face met the soft fabric of the woman's shirt. She was thinking at the moment that she would very much like to fall asleep there, and then maybe her headache would go away.

The woman spoke up again, the edge of her chin resting gently atop Marisa's near-unconscious head, and her slender arms stroking her back in a motherly way. "Rest here for a while, darling," she murmured as Marisa started to drift off. "I'll get you all fixed up."

The suggestion sounded rather inviting to the witch and she decided with her hazy brain that yes, she did want to stay there for a while. Her breathing grew quiet and even as she snuggled into the stranger's chest and felt her feet leave the floor, like she was descending into heaven, and one hand left her back and wrapped around her legs. She grew less and less aware of the fingers on her thighs and the gentle grip on her shoulder until she blacked out entirely, allowing herself to be carried upstairs.

She awoke staring at a vaguely familiar ceiling, gradually noticing the bandages on her body that bound her arms and neck. Her headache was mostly gone thanks to a folded up towel that was unpleasantly cold, though she was still too dreary to notice. The top half of her body was wrapped in a wool blanket her bottom half exposed so her caretaker could clean up the cuts and bruises on her legs. Her eyes widened slightly when she noticed she wasn't alone, but she didn't mind her presence all that much. It was like waking up to a small animal curled up on the foot of your bed (a small animal that Marisa accidentally kicked), except for this small animal was a woman in her mid-twenties, if Marisa had to guess, who was offering her shelter and a bed and was treating her wounds. It was a welcome sight. In Marisa's dreamy state, it was a very welcome sight and she might have thrown a fit if the woman had decided to leave.

"What's your name?"

The words left Marisa's lips before the thought of saying them even entered her head, but she desperately wanted to know who she was for one reason or another. At the moment, she wanted to thank her more than anything, and also apologize for breaking her door. The woman lifted her emerald eyes and finally looked at Marisa's face with an expression that did not contain any shock or fear, and Marisa was eternally thankful for that.

"Oh, you're awake."

She was being awfully immature again, but the fact that she was remaining in the dark as to this girl's identity for a few more seconds was unusually stressful. "Please, I need to know your name," she practically begged, raising her voice just a little and hearing it crack. She wasn't quite sure herself why she needed her name so badly, but she wasn't in the right state of mind to question her subconscious.

She moved a bit closer to Marisa and placed a hand on her forehead after removing the towel, feeling her temperature. "My name is Allison," she said quietly to silence the whining child. Rather than relax, Marisa's chest only swelled up further.

"Allison what?"

"Allison Shuster," she said even more quietly, starting to look confused again.

"Allison Shuster," Marisa repeated, blinking her eyes rapidly. It didn't sound half as good in Marisa's voice, and she hated it. There was a certain clarity when Allison said her own name and Marisa was reluctant to ruin it. "Is that - Is it German?"

"It is."

Marisa was at a loss for words. After a stunned silence, Allison spoke in her place. "What about you, honey? What's your name?"

Well, for a moment she wasn't sure, but "honey" sounded rather nice. She liked the sound of that. Maybe she could go by "honey" for the rest of her life. Yes, that sounded much better than whatever her name could have been before. What was that again? Let's just pretend she was always Honey.

"Do you remember your name?" she asked worriedly, ruffling her hair. "You had a bit of a nasty fall."

Marisa covered her face on reflex, feeling her cheeks started to burn up. It was at this moment that she was starting to question herself. She's never made a fool of herself quite like this before. At the same time, she's never met a person quite like this Allison before. She chanted in her brain that it was just an average human that she had met, a particularly kind one at most. A particularly kind, pretty, motherly human who she had ran into entirely by chance. Marisa was not, by nature, a nervous person, yet now she could hardly bear showing her face to a girl she had just met. Her insides were doing somersaults and some odd pain threatened to break out of her chest. She forced herself to move her fingers and look Allison in the eye, while still covering the parts that were blushing furiously. She breathed her name into her palms, her voice muffled by her skin.

"Th'name's Marisa."

And Allison smiled for the first time.