Chapter 10: Scrapes and Bruises
Situational. Relaxation displays itself, safe and sound, perched just in front of me. I wince as I sit but I stay there, stop, breathe. Big, lapping lungfuls that fall and fill, down my lips and into my lungs. Once I've settled about bits of sand and matter and boulder-like bits—all woven into mats via combination of F, Vivi, and myself—Nayomi settles herself upon my lap. She hasn't spoken much, but the water did thread through her matted fur, did open up her bloody body. And Tim is right. Unharmed.
Physically no cuts belittle her sensitive skin. Her eyes are a little dark, but still they hold surprisingly light globes for what she must have been around to see. Although... I suppose I was around at the time of my own parents' untimely demise—my birthparents, not Gerald and Stella. Though I was there in some form when Gerald... as well. I don't think Stella can die. I don't think.
Nayomi's soft and silent. She doesn't make much of a motion when I pull her closer to me: poor stony child. None of this is... at her fault. It's... it's... it's...
I lose focus staring, bewildered, at one of my outstretched hands. Rough green scales sown together in glistening shine. Small. Bent. Bruised and blistered. E-Eehhhh...
Footsteps shuffle over mats and sand. Tossing my head above the child's big ears, head nestled over hers, I catch the pair of pans trotting toward me. Ember's stare suggests chastening; Cheeka's more reflects a disquiet in her mind, a sort of fear. She's... bipolar. There is no shame in one's flaws but her instability worries me... I don't want her hurt, yes? She's.. fragile. Ember does well in his care of the panpour, very gentle; to others this trait is forgone.
Their fingers entwine as they land themselves in front of me. Nayomi flinches. In her tiny child voice, she whispers, "Who are you? Why are your eyes... scary?"
The pansear's dull quartz gaze goes hard underneath the child's scrutinizing. Cheeka clears her delicate chime. "Hello. Um... I'm... I..." Shake of the head. Pale fingers eject from her and to her partner. "That's... Ember. I-I'm Cheeka." She releases a breath.
"Yeah, but... why are your eyes scary? Mommy told me pan eyes are s'posed to match their element... or not... not so bright... nnnnh!"
"Watch it." Ember's expression narrows: he hasn't bothered lifting a lash for me yet. "Everyone's different, and maybe we're a little more different than not, bu that gives you no excuse to go sticking your nose in the 'scariness' of others. Your words are inadequate. 'Pink' works just fine." A hint of tooth flashes in his lip as his grip tightens upon the red-faced panpour beside him. She's begun chewing at her lip, strong pink gaze scrunched: they nigh copy one another.
Nayomi flinches. The shudder runs cleanly from my lap to up and down, across my body. A bit of a touching worry pokes me; I shake my head again.
Until finally Ember rolls his eyes. "Whatever. I'm not here to school a kid on her prowess. Ugh... Llana. I'm here for you. Again." Snort. One wary glance shies over Cheeka before his eyes bound back over to me again. "I don't mind you. I like you more than the others, surely. Just..."
He eyes the creature sitting on my lap as if it Roland's head.
I gag, try not to think about it... not to think... don't cover your eyes... strong... strong... strong...
"Oh... you make Llana shiver!"
"Yes. Sure. Of course." A pale hand brushes at the flaming whorl over his head, looks back at me. He very cleanly doesn't shift toward Nayomi other than his retort. "Llana, you've seen it, haven't you? No. Oh. What am I saying, of course you have. You're the fucking one who..." A raise with the hand and a pinch to the nose.
Cheeka grunts. "I don't like it. I don't like all this... black matter. It's just sitting here, dirty little minions... I don't like it!" Cough. "No... no." Sigh. Her fingers clutch at her forehead beneath the waves of matted blue hair.
Her companion blinks. He sighs softly, slowly. "I know. It hurts. It's okay... just try not to think much, okay? Try to rest...
And then all sign of his compassion is more or less tossed. "You do realize by now what we're getting ourselves into, wouldn't you? We all know what Tim thought when he saw them. Called them like he was their creator. They're so small—sure, deadly. You think, oh, this is it, small and deadly weapons—no, of course it isn't. People who can craft blizzards with naught but their head don't stop at small things.
"And they have friends. Just like you have friends."
I cough. "I-It seems you've given this some thought since I last heard of your opinion." Idly I wonder if they think much else. Well... no. That's a little wild. Of course there's something else. They can't help it. They've lived deadly childhoods so their minds always go to the danger first. And Cheeka... oh, dear Cheeka... I can't help but feel this knotting guilt in my chest when I look upon her. She of her bright, sizzling quartz eyes; of knotted hair and bruised cheeks; of fear and hate and anger and love and kindness all mottled in her head. I wince.
"Yes, well," Ember murmurs. "There's fates bigger than just yours and Tim's here. There's, say, Vivi. F. Kyo." Cheeka's face flashes with worry and Ember goes on quickly. "I'd say they're like you...
His fingers tuck into the sand before us. Larger pebbles he pulls toward his fingers; wayward sticks crunch beneath fire and psi and power alike. "Power lies on multiple scales, no? There's all sorts of powers filtered into this bit of tug-of-war of ours... there's duds. Zoey. There's those who can at least contain bits of your power... Bay surely. The legends... Quagsire. Mary. Us. You. Tim. That... thing." He doesn't glance at Nayomi but this smacks her in the face.
She's gone silent. Perhaps sleeping. Poor tot... her mother seemed so... her father...
Don't think of it... d-don't think of it... But it's so hard not to. It's like their voices scream at me, yell, and I let them toss their rotting words at me. I take and hold and cry about these losses like bits of holes each time: I can't protect, can't protect, protect, protect... no... failure... so much failure... so much... awful... horrible... and I just hear them. Loops and loops of voices... snatching and hatching lines crawling amongst one another, ensnaring me in their own little web. Only the web is deep. Only there is not halt to it. None that I can see.
The last I'd seen... Zoey was mad at Tim... I think mad... she ran after him fast... I was tired... but she kept running... and Tim let her come after him... And they just kept going... and I couldn't catch up...
only it's more than that. It's everything. And it's all meddled together and it's hard to breathe, hard to see much of anything.
It's Vivi and it's Kyo; it's Cheeka and Ember; it's Jen; it's Bay... it's Elijah. There's so much... it's so dark...
so dark...
Whence I manage that glimpse back toward reality, Ember's fingers have built a whole nexus, a maze of pathways in the sand. They each scuff along one another without the understanding in personal space. Knotted, mottled. A great, confusing mess. A hodgepodge without even the denotation holding it together. His orbs resemble embers burning just at the brink of collapse; his fingers have halted about the broken bits of twig and leaf he must've pushed into a pile.
Nayomi's snowy white hands, hardly a plum in his grip, search about the array. He leaves her. She crawls off me and into the sand; her carefully-combed and deftly-dried fur now filled with grit. Oh, it was waiting to happen...
Softly Ember's kindling eyes search over me, watch upon me. They're tender for once, tepid but not smoldering, a burning warmth that comforts in coating me. "It's a shame that balance is so... tipsy. That the weights of entities and souls cannot uphold each other enough, only to chafe and belittle... and build up only to fall down. Of course, this is balanced by the togetherness that is found... but it's hard to stay one big happy whole as you fall, fall deeper into this mess called life.
"Really. We enjoy you. All of you. I know I'm serious and more a hindrance to drags like Zoey. But we know too much... we're weights of power and we attract weaklings who think they can measure like us... and it's no use. All of these lives... all of this weight... it's only meant to collapse in the end."
Quietly, shaking that tender little head of his, he whispers, "There is beauty in such a thing," and then he rests back upon the mat. Cheeka, already weak and small herself, curls beside him, stays there as one of his warm and gentle hands curls back about her. And they stay together like that. All a web of their own. Matching. Strong with their feeling and their connection... it's rather... sweet. Sweet harmony...
Nayomi twitches, pulls a finger out of the sand and into her ear.
"What are you... e-eh! Nayomi!"
"Can't you hear it?" she squeaks, "can't you hear it?"
Hear what? Hear what... oh...
I fall back unto my own mat. The little squealing thing goes destroying through Ember's tiny masterpiece, each grain and each bit of care erased again into the earth. We're the only ones to see it and hold it in our eyes, our minds, and our hearts. It's strange. All of it is, really.
The night is just as consuming as any day is here. Blotting black currents of sky, nothing bright, just splotches of gloom. And it's everywhere. Touch that cannot touch but fills one's unending sight with darkness. Like... like Tim? I suppose, in a way. Perhaps like me, too, then, in its blinding twin of light. Yes; yes; that could be me. And upon such a spectrum everyone falls in between somewhere. Greater mass than my own troubles... than that dance with death Tim and I enact.
Ember's thoughts puzzle me. While I lay there, I wonder: Nayomi for sure prowls by my feet. It's dark out now. Cool, greasy night has fallen about us. I wonder, and I worry, about some of the others... where they are, if they feel safe... Unease prickles over my skin. Zoey should... should be fine. I sigh. Oh, I just think and think and nigh break my head open in fear. Ember said it was more than them, too. It was... a little of everything, a lot of more. Is it any more concealing than this black—than the oncoming light?
And where is Quagsire, anyways? Where does his own piece fall?
Beggars are funny or guilty or coal. Hearts of coal, burnt as fuel, sensation—here it lacks.
Zoey acts as one but hidden inside she feels another... and she's not coal, she's not coal...
What awaits out there in the musty dark? What sorts of things would go bump in the night if I ran from these finely-combed mats, if I ran and ran until I ran out of breath but kept running because I didn't need it. What will I lose; what don't I actually need? Furiously I stare scars into the hands I can't see in front of me, at the small bruises and splinters that amount to nothing in comparison to the scars that Nayomi's parents now... e-e-e-ehhh...
It's a lot of stress to push oneself into, isn't it? Consideration of others at such a level. Such a height. My fault... my fault... Nayomi's fluffy body settles itself beside me but I'm not thinking of her... It's not you... it's me... me... me...
Soft, padded feet make their way by my head. It's not Nayomi—she's curled up by me somewhere. Her sandy fur... I can feel it pressed against some scaly part of me. Not quite focusing enough to tell which. Perhaps my tail; yes, I would think so. The granular bits shift beneath me, some of them from the emolga's fur and others via my own play with the dirt. I can't quite rest. And of course there's the question. Is it Zoey? "Who is it?"
"Oh, like, hey." No. No no no. Not Zoey. F. Yes. That's F. Sassy, rambunctious, even sleazy at points. That's F. She resembles Mina, now that I think of it... Mina was... before she... she was a mienfoo, pastel colored, flowery, gentle-looking. Not gentle. No. She's slapped Burr numerous times. She loved Burr. He loved Mina. Mina was glitzy, without a shy bone in her body, ready to take what was hers but otherwise she could calm herself, calm Burr in the process, preferably with punching. Even so she had to be slow, had to be careful—she had a great scar along her spine. Burr used her slowness as a reason to constantly peck at her cheek with kisses, sing while they walk because she takes long enough for a verse. They were sweet... They... they were...
Llana... compose yourself... come on...
"Eh—F? Yes? Hello. Um... what are you doing, walking about here?"
Just enough flaming strands illuminate her outline to catch glimpses of her fur, of her big glassy blue eyes. Like skies trapped in her soul. A bit of flame like spit dribbles from one opened lip; F's flame-colored paw scrabbles over her cheek near it, wipes it back. "Hrr? Like, hi, Llana. Gawsh, why are you up so late? Zoey warned me, but like... gawwshhhhhhh, whyyyyyyyyyyy..?" A wide-lipped yawn of hers accentuates the point, makes her words slur over one another.
I blink. "Ah—Zoey is with you?"
"Mmhrrmmm! Don't worry, li'l Llana, like, Zoey's alrighty. She jus' wanted t'make sure I told'chu that m'self. Hr," she goes, and in the same breath turns her head aside and spits a bit of flaming snot in the sand.
I stare at the glowing dirt for a while.
F, growing bored of me, plops herself in front of my pointed nose. Her hot breath plows through my face. It's clean, even, like a fist; I never knew F contained such power. Not in her little body, but... "Hrhhh! Gawsh, Llana, your attention's, like, everywhere but on me! Hmmf! I ain't done with my story yet!
She gives me some moments to settle. Nayomi, by one of my folded hands, has yet to waken. I'd appreciate the victini not to change that: though, she is F, so I shan't hold out much hope. "And then, cuz she wanted me to check on you, Vivi showed up and was like, 'yeah, you should go like check on everyone', so anyways there goes the rest of my, like, life. And so there's you... And o'er there, like, that's Embie and Cheekie, right?"
"U-U-Um. Yes."
"And there's baby Nayo-Nayo. Mhm. Cute, cute. Gawsh, she's cute. Well, that's everyone, sort of! I'd love to like take your bed, Llana, but Zoey would kill me if I slept with you. She'd kill someone who looked at you, like, honestly. Like, Llana is strictly, like, Zoey's. All that. Heh. She's funny."
When I don't respond, she goes on. "If you guys're the last ones... then I wonder where the others went... hmmnng..."
And quickly I snap to my feet, shaky and weak body and all. "Wh-Wh-Wh—WHAT do you mean by tha-that?" Again it all snaps into place; there I am, standing, shivering, cold, suddenly very, very cold. The backwash of day so cleanly called night; it shivers and tumbles about me, until I feel scared, and I feel sick. Very, very cold... indeed. Who is it now? Who is it now?
Not Vivi. Not Zoey. Not Ember or Cheeka or little Nayomi. Certainly not F... not—not me.
Oh, it's too little! It's too little! Who is it! Who is—
Small, sad grin. "Eh, um, like... Jen disappeared." Small, sad shrug. "I didn't see her, at least. Gawsh..." Small, sad tug at my hands, she pulling herself up beside me. Another tug, and she sends us both going back her way.
"But I think it's okay. Like... Bay went after her. So..."
F's hands hold over mine; nothing else connects me to this orbiting world.
"Eh... eh! Llana! Didja hear me? Hrrrrh! Like, listen! Gawwwshh! LLANA, LISTEN TO ME!"
I didn't see where my hands went or her hands followed, I just felt and feared and, in one big fall: hated.
Deep breaths... big breaths... I don't need air to live... and my hands around my neck means nothing without Tim's pearly claws to snip it... It wouldn't hurt, couldn't hurt me, but still the rush of adrenaline escapes through me, still I can't explain, can't contain myself. My eyes are everywhere; such are the thoughts bouncing through my head. "I'm"—I splutter, really, truly—"I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I just... re-reacted. I just reacted. I'm sorry!" More breaths, more sagging against myself, near falling into the tumultuous sand below. A child lies there.
F's feet and her skilled, controlled hands guide me. Slow, slow circles, paces provided.
"I told you. Bay's with her. I saw him. He said he saw her, said he, like, saw the whole thing, saw her freakin' out or something, was gonna, like, go after it. C'mon, trust the guy. He's the best friend of the guy you liked before he died or whatever. Gawsh.
Her uplifting smile drags. "You don't, like, have to do everything. You'll die before that happens. Llana—gawsh, we don't wanna see you all, like, tired and stuff. There's so much of us. We're all friends. Like... chill. Try to. I know Zoey's been tellin ya," and as she sighs, I finally catch the hints of light, like a texture, glinting within her. Worry. F. Worried. F. When has she ever been worried prior to now? When has she ever... ever... stopped herself, looked... and seen more than what she thinks we should see? When... when...
I manage to pull my eyes back toward her. We've stopped. Her lips turn, bits of tooth show, and a piece of a beam, just a piece, manages a spot of a show. "Go on. Rest. What happens will happen, we'll know in the morning. You can't do everything. Heh. Gawsh, don't take, like, all the spotlight..."
With a smile, she releases her grip and leaves me in the darkness. Her flames and her glowy snot and her sass: she leaves in the darkness, leaves me with the sleeping pans and the child.
She's kind... offering... soft... sweet... strangely. But it's a nice strange. A warm strange. I always... liked F. And I'm sorry, F, but I doubt my ability to rest tonight. I doubt I can close my eyes and see whatever dreams await me, I doubt I can look them in the face and conjure meaning like snaps and sparkles. I doubt... I doubt... I can hold my head up much longer...
So I fall upon the mat I was given and I stay. And I think about Ember's words, because I doubt I could trust my own.
Beneath his serious armor he holds some form of a warmth... it would be nice, one day, to talk with him again like so...
Bay
"Ehh! Jen! Oh, there you are! Why are... oh my gosh..! Why are you so fast! Heh... so fast... ahh..." When I pause and catch my breath, she almost—almost—stops for me, but then she just turns her head and goes on. "Jennnn! Wait for me, pleeeaaaaaase! Why are you so faaaaasst!" And then I have to scuttle after her. My wings fluff, fluff, making me wonder if I'd do better flying instead of this weird slither-hop, but I don't think so. They're small wings. I got nothing on any sort of majestic staraptor. It'd be literally that easy to blow me away.
And I don't mind. It's just... Jen is so fast... and we're going up in this weird cliff area... since when were cliffs in a desert? Well, I suppose it's not that weird. But it still is kind of weird. So much wind—it's chilly! Do I smell rain, of all things, in the wind? Or is it snow..? Man, when did climate give up on us? It's funny, when you think about it. But not funny in the middle of a blizzard. Oh no. No. It's funny after the blizzard. After everyone lives and they look back on it.
"Jen!"
I go racing up after my speedy friend. All I can catch of her's those pumping, blue legs, pebbles that scatter with her steps, and her braids, wildly flying about her head somewhere above. I'm... not that tall. And this thing has yet to stop sloping uphill. Well. I guess there are mountains in the desert, so I can't reason with that. Still. It's just... it feels random, right? It all feels a little loopy. Heh, or maybe I'm just losing it a little.
Is this my fault? I don't know. We had to tell the poor girl at some point. She was getting anxious, nervous. Roland disappeared right under her nose and never resurfaced... Llana said we should tell her, and I agree. It's wrong to keep it away from her, maybe just make it worse. But, oh my gosh, that bagon can run.
Oh, what's that ahead? Up past bits of trail and gently-trodden cliff, I think, just up a little more—thank goodness. The top of this mountainous, sandy terrain finally levels off. Sure, at a point, with a bit of overhang beneath where Jen is heading. Still. Almost over. I'll have her more or less cornered and we can try to talk about everything. It'll be... it'll be safe. She'll stay. I don't think she'll be able to go around me again.
Finally, huffng and puffing, my golden scales all pockmarked with grit, I turn myself up toward the sky blue dragonet and call, pleased with myself, "Hooray!" I smile, murmuring, "Jen, you can stop running now, okay? We're friends, so don't worry too much about it. I understand that the news was a shock, but..."
She's not responding. Wait. I look back up at her, in those amber orbs pointed just above that hand-like mark on her cheek. They're muddled. Murky. Like autumn in a bad rainstorm. She's breathing irregularly, huh-haaaah huh-haaaa-haa-haahh huh-huh-huhhhhhh-haaaaaaaaahhh-ah-ahhh. Nnn—don't die, Jen! Wait. Oh. Her toes are hooked around the edge of that cliff... she's teetering right... right there... that... that's a long drop. That's a long drop dow—
Oh.
No... no... Jen, don't do this to yourself... I know you've lost some of your really dear friends a-and all but... no no... Jen, don't do this... it's so wrong.. it's awful...
I have to do something! "Jen!" My cry catches her gaze, catches her skewered into my sight for a perfect, crystalline moment in time. "Jen! Hi! It's me! It's Bay!"
The wind is howling in my ears, must be shredding into hers over at the edge. To my horror, of course it's blowing the way she's gonna fall if she's not careful. Her knotted, silvery braids—half-folded, once so fed with care—billow in front of her snout, out toward the pit. Hn. Well. I guess I'll just have to be louder than the wind. She's listening to all the wrong words, all the wrong entities. Exactly the ones not on her side... oh, Jen, you poor thing... stop listening.
"Jen! It's dangerous by the edge of the cliff, you know! It would be horrible if you—"
"no it wouldn't." She speaks slowly, speaks calmly. I can hear every last syllable with a strange, ringing clarity. Oh, curse those fates playing against me; I'm not letting my friend... my friend... ehhh!
Small breaths. I try to rest myself, try to sound just as calm and controlled as her. Those snippets of gaiety, the ones I can't rid myself of, they stay, but that's fine. That's me. "I'd really miss you if you were gone! I wouldn't like it if you... no. It'd be bad. Llana might just explode. You know how sad it would make Zoey, too..." Aannnd still she inches closer. Okay, no, don't trust her words. It's like she speaks calm and slow, but it's not her controlling but her being controlled.
The mark on her cheek bulges with the gritting of her teeth. It's freaky, big, distorted and wiggling... it's almost mesmerizing in this sickening sort of way. Those eyes of hers aren't seeing, and those ears of hers aren't truly hearing...
Hnn... "Jen. Please. We care about you."
"no you don't."
"Je-Jen..." No, no. Jen. No. Stop that... The bagon won't look at me, only at her very-quickly-approaching demise, and here I am. Right here. I can do something... maybe I can't grab her—no, no. But... Jen! Okay then! "I've lost my best friend, you know. I've known him for the longest time. It was like we were family. Maybe I don't show it like Llana, but I miss him. There's not a day where I don't see something that makes me think of him."
The monster on her cheek pulsates. Black, pus-like goo shreds from its spot, begins slinking down her hard dragon skin—and making its way, slowly but surely, for me.
Oh, dear oh dear... ah... My gaze shoots for the sky. "Jen, this isn't you." It really, really isn't. "You should cherish the memories, not... destroy them with you. But this isn't about me and what I think, is it?" No. No it's not. It's about the mark on her cheek. The one that's trying to consume her...
"oh?" Those amber orbs flash and crease chills down my spine. "no, but now I want to hear. you should tell me anyways."
Let the creature toy with me and tell her... it... all the feelings in my heart or risk Jen... well. I guess Jen's in a bad position either way. If only I knew how to drag her away from that cliff... I suppose I'll have to bring out the monster. A little of it started oozing... if I just... slither back from that chunk, don't let it touch me and mess with me, too, then...
So I start. No better place than the beginning, right? "I'm not sure how old I was at the time. I might've just hatched, may have made it to toddler age. All I know is that my parents left me and I have yet to see them since. But I'm okay, they left, so... eh! Elijah's dad found me. He's really skilled when it comes to foraging, and he happened upon a little dunsparce! He's a nice guy at heart, so he brought me back to the family. Of course, his mother was questioning it, but she was fine in the end... and Elijah and I grew up together, right? Nayomi, too, when she came along." Hesitant look back—that face! It's almost transfixed in my words. What's it looking for?
A little worried, I go on. She hasn't moved, at least. Doing something right. "When we got older, we started heading out of the house. Heh. Nayomi was sad when she left... and then I got lost a lot. I was so excited to see everything I forgot to look out! But Elijah always found me; and then when he couldn't, we met Llana, and she did. I remember... heheh..." My head bows. I can't help it... "I had a really bad, really dinky old crush on Vivi... I don't remember why. She's nice, sure... but she wasn't doing so hot because of you-know-who, and somehow Llana managed to help her, too, and then we were all okay!" Yay!
"Elijah died... Oh. That was... that was... I could hardly believe it. But by then, it was obvious that we were in dangerous territory... the world, evidently, is in dangerous territory. Our whole world. Everything we knew... right? Now Nayomi's having dreams on par to Llana's and the rest of my family... they're dead." I sigh. Big breath. "They were just killed... like pawns in this huge game... like pawns... like nothings...
"It's awful. Really. It is. I understand that. But I can't help but be thankful, because... if one morning I woke up, and Elijah and everyone was still alive, and we never left home the way and time we left... if Zoey, F, Vivi... Umbre... Roland! If they were all just a dream... I wouldn't know what to do with myself.
"At least... that's what I think." Suddenly shy, I look at the ground. That might be bad. What if I look up and Jen's—
"A-A-Aa-Aaahhhhhhhhhhh..."
Crying?
Jen?
A blush springs across my face. I get all hot and uncomfortable. Why's she crying? What made her cry? Does... does the monster hurt? Awkwardly I glance back up at her, at those gleaming amber eyes and the pain flashing clean through them. At her sobs as the acid-like scoopy junk on her face burns off. One hand rubs at it like an afterthought, the other frantically wiping at her tears.
The wind screams. "AAAH! BAY!" she cries, and then I jump without thinking. My body manages to nab at hers—one wing or another cradles her face—and, oh thank goodness, we land in a sobbing heap farther away from the edge than we'll ever get. Entire steps away. I can hardly believe it. I'm so happy. I'm so proud. Entire steps away from that dance with death... entire steps away... she made it... oh...
She tells me she's sorry, she's really sorry, again and again, her fingers threading over and untangling those braids of hers. First they're a heavenly sheet of cloud-gray hair, slowly and gently, methodically working back into the lovely braids I've known her for. One on each shoulder, one draping down her back. Just as Jen as she should be.
"I'm sad, Bay."
"Hmm?"
"But I think we're all a little sad... so if we let that get the better of us, that's, bad, Bay.
"And I don't want you to be a dream either, Bay. None of you."
"Yes, Jen."
And I smile.
Because I'm happy. I'm happy none of this is a dream, despite all the pain and the glory.
Yay sad happy stuff Jen doesn't die! But she miiight ewe
Llana's saved tons of lives in pmd2, even if she didn't save everyone in the end. Perfection is illusion~
But hey. Bay managed to save Jen... ;w; She's okay...
but those marks are obviously bad, obviously influencing bad things..
at least no one else has them, right?