Ah, okay, Maths Paper one today did not make me cry. I held my shit together and for that, I will type for the entire Imagine Dragons album. And maybe some OneRepublic after that, or Ben Howard... Mumford's always good for typing to.
(I have the most standard taste in music I have ever encountered)
Mostly filler, may contain useful information. May also just be a social experiment.
"She's not going to return my message. " Spirit insisted rather miserably. " She hates me. She never returns my messages."
"I'm sure she doesn't." Tsubaki reassured him, although she felt extremely doubtful of that fact. He was an asshole, and the neediest man she'd ever met. If Kami somehow managed not to hate the husband she avoided like he was the plague*, she was... Maybe she was still in love with him, despite the hurt he caused. That would explain it, you don't run from what you hate, you yell and shout and let the object of your hatred know without a doubt that you hate them, because that was human nature.
"Spirit," Black*Star cut across Tsubaki's attempts at gentle persuasion with all his use subtlety and tack. That is to say, none. "I know you'll never be a god like me, but I'm sure you can at least man up and grow a pair enough to message your wife!"
Spirit steeled himself by taking a swig from the flask of whiskey offered to him by Liz. Liz nearly always carried alcohol on her person somewhere.
"Okay, Tsubaki, I'm ready." Spirit nodded and Tsubaki turned on the recording device. This needed to arrived swiftly ad most importantly, it needed to arrive intact. The risk of data loss with sound alone was significantly lower than sound and image together.
"Intended Destination; Gotham Airyard**. High Priority. Shibusen Airship, Niddhogg; Captain Death. Speaking;Tsubaki Nakatsukasa and-"
"Spirit Albarn"
"To be delivered ASAP to Kami Albarn. Impress upon her the importance of an immediate response and inform that all cost will be picked up by the Academy," Messaging was expensive. There was a momentary pause before Spirit cleared his throat and spoke again.
"Uh, Kami? It's me, uh, Spirit. I know you don't normally respond to my messages, but... it's about Maka. I know she still writes to you. I haven't heard for her recently and I need you to know that she's in trouble. More trouble than I can begin to describe. Listen, I need you to message if you hear anything from her. It's possible that she might turn to you if she's scared or stuck or... you always were her hero, and just... please? Can you this thing for me?"
Spirit fell back, the brief message had taken it out of him. He waved at Tsubaki to indicate that his part in the message was over.
"End message." Tsuabki finished the recording and played it back to herself through her headphones. Spirit might be annoying, but she saw no reason to make the man live through that again. She was grateful when she was able to confirm that all sound had been recorded clearly, and sent the message to Gotham Airyard's Communications tower.
"We aren't going to find them unless they go up and we're extremely lucky, are we?" Tsubaki asked quietly, but not so quietly that she couldn't be heard, she was sure.
In any case, nobody answered and Kidd changed the subject as much as he could.
"Has anyone heard from Black*Star or Hire in a while?" It was not unusual fro Hiro to act the recluse for several days, but this sort of behavior was positively unheard from Black*Star.
Tsubaki shook her head, not daring to repeat her question.
"I've barely seen them since you told them to figure out how the Ghost flies." She chewed her lip thoughtfully. "Hiro's just curious and Black*Star-"
"The 'Almighty' Black*Star's too 'big' to allow himself be surpassed by another engineer," Liz estimated accurately, drawing a grim smile from Kidd.
"We are going to find them," Kidd muttered. "They can't run forever."
When Maka woke up alone in Soul's bed, she curled deeper into the bedclothes blushing a bright red- had she really spent the rest of the night here? It seemed so stupid now, stupid and childish. She was blushing furiously as she darted across the hallway to her own room, eager to get dressed in clothes, that although normally scandalously revealing, did not make her feel as exposed as her nightgown.
Suspecting that the Ghost needed her, Maka dressed in a hurry, digging in her much abused wardrobe for clothes designed for working in. Namely, men's clothes, and more specifically, old clothes of Soul's. An old shirt of his that his broadening shoulders had ripped one day, clumsily mended by Maka who did not have the same skills with needlework as she did with mechanics and trousers, also Soul's once upon a time. She pulled on her heavy boots and left the room, heading towards the kitchen.
Soul was in the kitchen mixing pancake batter like the good fake husband he was when Maka poked her head in. Neither of them were able to hide the worry that was creeping in around the edge of their eyes.
"Pancake?" Soul offered, adding butter to the long handled skillet that was designed for open fire cooking.
"Yes, please." Maka answered, hurrying to avoid his eyes as he ladled a generous portion of the smooth mixture on the pan. She focused on watching his hands.
"Are we going to talk about last night?" Soul's voice lacked all the usual arrogance. He only dropped his cool facade when he was really worried about, which she had to admit was starting to seem like most of the time lately.
"I had a nightmare Soul, that's all."
"Bullshit. You don't come crying to me every time you have a nightmare." Soul turned his attention to the pancake checking the underside to see if it was done. "It wasn't your fault you know."
It was. Soul could say it a thousand times, but... that didn't change anything.
"We aren't going to talk about this now. We have bigger problems." Soul flipped the pancake with a practised ease, the frown on his face nothing to do with Maka's breakfast..
"They'll never catch us. Nobody ever has." The cocky tone she was used to slipped back into his voice.
"Soul, you know as well as I do that that doesn't mean nobody ever will." Maka pulled her hair into a single ponytail at the back of her head. It was easier to work with it absolutely out of her way. "Besides, nobody was ever looking for us before."
"Eat your breakfast." Soul shoved the plate in front of her with a mismatched knife and fork. Maka spread butter and sprinkled sugar on her pancake, before eating it with the provided cutlery.
"Maka, I was researching the Beelzebub while you were... travelling. and it's nothing we can't handle." Soul was of the opinion there was anything out there they couldn't handle. Maka wasn't in possession of the same conviction. He shrugged. "The best pilots in the world run the smuggler's route, you know that, and we've faced the best of the best." Soul loaded his pancake with honey and rolled it up.
"Well, besides Papa, who've they got?"
"The pilot is Death the Kidd, Lord Death's son- first in the Academy, blah, blah, blah." There was hint of envy in his voice, but Maka at least knew that Soul would've been first if she hadn't dragged him away to pilot the Ghost. " He's got the regulation two engineers, some 'big man' called Black*Star and Hiro Something-Or-Other- you know, that guy who restored the Excalibur on communications they have Tsubaki Nakatsukasa***- that chick hacked our limited frequency, something only like four people in the world can do and an artillery team consisting of the Thompson Sisters,"
Maka gave him a long look before chewing and swallowing her mouthful of pancake. She'd abandoned a lot of her old life but table manners was a thing sHe'd held onto. Unlike Soul.
"Soul," She said gently. "We always knew we couldn't do this forever."
"You've never given up..." Soul was shell-shocked, but recovered quickly. "You did promise me one thing though."
"What was that?"
"That we'd go out in style." He grinned at her, and Maka stood up and stretched.
"Well, duh, Soul." She smiled back at him. "I'm going to check on the Ghost"
"I got her home in one piece," Soul cried indignantly.
"I'll be the judge of that."
Soul spent the rest of the day sitting on the floor of the engine room, handing Maka tools when her recognized whatever it was she demanded, and pestering her about her nightmare.
He doesn't really remember what happened, he'd been too sleep stupid and bleary eyed. What he did recall though, was her hollow eyes and the way his heartbeat had ratcheted when she dragged her hand across the wound that wasn't even on his chest. It hadn't hurt him, but it had hurt, her sobs and broken spirit in the weeks after the actual event, when she's slipped into a funk that he couldn't get her out of. She just snapped out of it one day, or so he thought.
He was sickened at his selfishness when he'd been so glad to seen her sleeping peacefully across from him, like she might've in another life.
He recalled the one kiss they shared. He'd surprised himself, and her too, no doubt. She'd kissed him back though, even if it was just for a second. Would she do the same today, if he tried to kiss her? Would her lips still be soft as he remembered. She'd probably brain him with a wrench afterwards, but it would be worth it.
Soul was dragged reluctantly out of his daydreams by Maka's demands for a vice-grip****-something he did recognize.
Very short, not even going to bother sending this to my lovely new beta, but I promise-shit will go down in the next chapter.
*I don't actually like that phrase, I don't know anyone who actively avoids the plague these days. Does the plague(The actual Black Death) even exist anymore?
** I've been watching a lot of Batman lately.
*** This is the first time I spelled her second name without the assistance of Google. It may very probably be incorrect.
****This is the only tool I own(unless you could the family hacksaw and the craft hot glue gun) and I mostly use it to fight ghosts and open ifficult marker lids.
Hey guys, I know I normally beg for constructive criticism-I live for that shit- but this time could you please, please instead look up The Little Smoke on Youtube? They are absolutely amazing and deserve shit-tons of support. (Also the bassist is a cousin of a close friend of mine and the few times I've met him, he has been an absolute gentleman, and you can just be all like, pfft, I knew those guys when they were so underground that I got recommended them by like their stepcousin.)
Or alternatively I'll give a prize to anyone who figures out what I drew for Jazzie560 for her birthday on tumblr(by a prize I mean a request).
Or you can suggest to me some good music.
Slán!