Author's Note: Evening! I'm doing my best to get everything established and stay ahead of myself, but fair warning, this is proving more challenging than I thought. So thank you all in advance and please bear with me! A quick not of clarification, these events are taking place within a year of the anime's ending, though I'm assuming that all happened relatively fast. So I didn't just age the characters for this story; I aged them in the anime timeline as well. This has to do with my own experience with mental illness: the early days have been the hardest (so far) because things kept happening one after another and I didn't understand what was going on. The more distance I get from the onset of my symptoms the more stable and capable of keeping some balance with my mood swings I am. Therefore a quick turnaround fro Crona as well. That's it! Enjoy chapter 2 and thank you for reading!
He'd gone to the Gallows Mansion expecting to find Maka; she'd been very insistent that this was her idea and she'd handle everything from food to flowers. It was his dear wish that there wouldn't be too many flowers and thus far that had been the case, though they could still make a surprise appearance. Or not, she'd also been very insistent that she wasn't going to make a big deal out of the party either. Didn't have the patience for it. So the food was going to be catered, the decorations limited to nice tablecloths, and it was bring your own music (since nobody trusted Maka to supply anything good). Still, only hours before the big event, he had expected her to at least be overseeing the table setting. Crona passed through the thin crowd of strangers moving this and that around the Gallows Mansion atrium, leading with his head and scanning the faces with just a little apprehension.
Warm hands came out of nowhere and covered his eyes, an equally warm body pressing into his back. Startled was too extreme to describe his initial impulse; taken aback might've been better, but that was only a brief flash before a smile twisted his lips. Around his neck the blood filled quartz felt light and comfortable, a welcome change from its usual burn, and he felt… softness. It was instantly apparent who this was, yet she felt the need to play anyway.
"Guess who," she teased impishly, bringing her lips to his ear and blowing on his earlobe.
"Maka," Crona all but giggled, shuddering pleasurably at the sensation and putting his hands over hers. "What are you doing?"
"Making sure everything gets set up in time," she said evasively, slipping away and stepping around to face him. "What are you doing?"
"I came to see you," he answered simply, his eyes lingering on her lips and his hand moving to her face almost subconsciously so he could trace her jaw with his middle finger.
"Well, if you were hoping for a sneak peek you're going to be disappointed," Maka prodded, grabbing his hand and pressing her cheek into it. "You have to wait for the party to see my dress. Still, I'm glad you came by. There's something I wanted to ask you."
"Me too," Crona rushed the words, stiffening just a little such that Maka looked him directly in the eyes and flushing. "If you have time."
"Silly," she whispered, maneuvering their hands so their fingers interlaced then tugging him towards a more secluded spot next to the stairs. "I always have time for you. Now, what is it?"
"I, um, I wanted to say something, tonight, to everyone," he stammered, focusing on their entwined hands. "Something about today, but one year ago."
"What brought this on," Maka asked, keeping her voice and gaze soft.
"Soul suggested it this morning and I- I think he's right. I think everyone deserves to hear something from me, about that time. You don't approve?"
"Nothing like that."
"Then you're angry because I didn't think to do this sooner?"
"Not even a little," she chuckled mildly, giving her head a shake. "I'll admit to being a little surprised, but I'm not angry. I'm proud of you, Crona. When we met I never thought you'd be able to speak in front of people and now here you are, asking if I can fit it into your own party. Everyday you just make me more and more proud to be with you."
"Then… it's okay?"
"Of course it's okay. It's a wonderful idea. And I have the perfect time for you to do it. Look:"
Maka let go of his hand and bent over, opening one of the boxes to her right and pulling out something small enough to fit into her palm. Crona craned his neck inquisitively but there was no need; she rotated back towards him and held out the item. It was a small, round candle, the stark white wick making a sharp contrast against the pitch-black wax. The two stared at it for a moment in silence before she explained.
"There's one for every life lost, every business that struggled to reopen, and every building that was destroyed. They float, so I thought we could light them and set them adrift in that gazing pool Kid has in the gardens outback. I was going to introduce them at the end of the party, but you could do it with your speech, if you'd like."
"Yes," he whispered, reaching out and resting his fingertips on the wax. "It will be hard for me, I'm afraid. Even so, I would like to do this."
He moved his gaze and hand back to her face, rubbing her cheekbone with his thumb and smiling sadly. Maka… she hadn't forgotten about everything else that had happened that day. She wasn't pretending everyone was happy or that everything was fine. This party had always been for them too, not just a celebration for Crona, not just a monument to his achievements in the days since. He just hadn't been listening. As was so often the case when it came to Maka, his fears were unfounded. Hesitantly he brought his face closer to hers, so close their noses brushed and he could taste her breath. Desire burned inside him, a need to express just how amazing she was to him, but was this an appropriate place and time? Even now, he couldn't be sure. She answered the question, shifting her weight onto her toes and pressing her lips to his. An assertion that he was amazing to her, too.
Soul leaned on the second floor banister, grinning at the antics in the atrium beneath him. Their friends had all come, obviously, and were perhaps equally as obviously causing the majority of the chaos. Black Star had devoured a solid half of the catered food at such a rate Tsubaki was having a hard time keeping up with his dishes. She didn't need to bother, yet there was no convincing her of that even as she huffed and smoothed the situation with waving hands and nervous laughter. Up until a moment ago Kid had both Liz and Patty performing a precisely choreographed routine with him which might've been a modern interpretive dance meant to express the beauty of symmetry. Or maybe that was reading too much into it. Regardless Patty had become bored and broke formation to play hide and seek. Well, some rendition of hide and seek at least; she bounced from hiding spot to hiding spot while Liz indulged her, covering her eyes and counting to ten in between grins and faux searching just with her eyes. Kid was still shouting admonishments, insisting that the album wasn't over yet. Overall turnout had been good and everyone else just flitted around the troublemakers, chatting and sipping beverages from fluted glasses like any other party hosted at the Gallows Mansion. Probably a good 50 people in total.
At first Crona had been overwhelmed by the number, shyly clinging to one of the pillars on the periphery and electing to watch the crowd rather than take part in the festivities. His party, so he could enjoy it however he liked as far as Soul was concerned, though he worried about how that speech was going to go over if Crona couldn't even mingle. Then Maka had conned him into dancing too and Soul had excused himself to watch. Neither of them could dance, which was ironic considering the fluid movements both used in a fight, so it was an interesting show. Rather, it was a good thing he was so close to both of them because otherwise it would've been nauseatingly adorable bordering on annoying. Maka was leading, which told you how desperately bad Crona was that she'd taken on the role, and for the first five minutes the two had just bumped into each other, giggling and flushing like children. Finally Maka gave up on doing anything traditional and had changed tack, placing both hands around his curvaceous hips and controlling his movements from there. It had taken Crona a minute to settle into their new rhythm, but eventually his arms found Maka's waist, his fingertips resting lightly on her exposed spine. They made a cute pair, Crona in his white suite and Maka in a powder blue dress the color of his eyes when he was startled. She'd put in extra effort, twisting her hair up artfully so no detail of her open-back, halter neckline dress could be missed, and tolerating wedge sandals so tall she could look Crona directly in the eye. Her modest bust prevented any risk of indecent exposure and the skirt, at least, was loose and short enough to give her free motion, so it was still practical for a cocktail dress. Nevertheless, Crona looked like he was dancing with an actual angel, constantly smiling in a dazed wonder. Yeah, cute was a good word.
Even though he was enjoying himself thoroughly, the party cacophony started to grate on his nerves and he straightened, giving the couple one last grin before heading for the outdoor balcony. Some fresh air would be good; he wanted to earnestly look refreshed and supportive for Crona's speech. Undoing one more button on his collar, he adopted a similar position and leaned against the stone railing, looking pensively out at the gardens. But he didn't stay that way for long.
"It's a nice party," said a voice he recognized but hadn't expected, causing him to start and turn. "Nothing overly decadent."
Vera gave him a half smile from the bench against the wall, clutching an oversized coat around her shoulders, hiding inside it. From beneath it a spacious skirt stuck out, pale teal shot with burgundy that shone in the moonlight, and though she'd put some effort into her hair, pulling it from her face with two expert feather braids that met at the back of her head, her face was bare as always. He was also pretty convinced at this point that she only owned the black ankle boots she was wearing now. Dusty, worn, and not fancy. About a thousand comments came to mind but he decided to keep things professional for the moment.
"How long have you been out here?"
Direct and unassuming, something that shouldn't upset her. She shrugged, maintaining eye contact but not moving.
"I got here before most everyone else. It's too hot in there for my jacket, though."
"You could, you know, take the jacket off," he pointed out, a playful note slipping through as he leaned back, resting his elbows on the stone. "There's a coat rack downstairs."
"Actually, no, I can't," she bit back with a caustic playfulness of her own, not angry but still insistent. "It's embarrassing."
"What, did you forget to put on a shirt or something?"
"No! I am fully clothed, thank you very much."
"Then what?"
"I-"
Vera pursed her lips, then pouted them off to one side, consulting the ground for advice and squirming. Soul cocked his head, blinking at her in bemusement and smiling a little. It had been some number of weeks since things had been this easy between them, or, more precisely, since Vera had treated him like a friend and not a threat. He hadn't really known what he'd done to upset her and had elected for the ultimate solution: give her space. Apparently, it had worked. After a brief stalemate Vera stood, decisive, shed the coat and set it on the bench where she had been. Heat came into his neck and face; it was not often that Vera emerged from her sweaters and hoodies long enough for anyone to see her frankly gorgeous body. And this dress, still modest by all accounts, was accentuating every aspect. Almost off the shoulder sleeves displayed her collarbones as pleats of shot silk made a V pattern across her large chest without showing any cleavage. A sash of fabric pinched in at the base of her ribs just in case one hadn't already noticed her near perfect hourglass figure and the skirt fell loosely around her hips to her knees to complete the 50's style look. There was a looseness around the top that Soul didn't have time to contemplate before she turned around and his blood pressure shot up. Her back was exposed, but not intentionally so, and the vulnerability of it made the situation feel… almost intimate.
"I got the zipper stuck," she confessed, flushing but pulling hair that wasn't really in the way up off her neck nevertheless and giving him a look over her shoulder that was both shy and expectant.
"I can see that," he said nervously, not sure if he was allowed to look and equally unsure if he could will himself to look away.
"That's kind of the point," she chastised, a sharpness coming onto her face. "So you gonna help me or just stare at me?"
"Oh, sorry, my bad," he laughed awkwardly, coming up behind her.
Her skin was very pale, like it had never once seen the light of day, and, Soul was pleased to note, when he brushed it visible goose bumps erected. A wild idea flitted through his mind, an impulse to put his whole hand in the dress and run his fingers down her back, just to experience the softness of her skin in more detail, but he quashed that pretty fast. That was how it had always been with Vera, ever since they first met when she was still possessed by the witch Pendra. Soul both couldn't help being attracted to her and respected her too much to make any sort of advance. Well, respect was one word for it; she had the personality of a thorny shrub. Past that, Soul had seen just how squishy she was and that was something Vera had a hard time tolerating. Honestly there were times Soul thought she didn't like him at all, but then he'd see her in his dreams, relaxed, so often unaware that she too was dreaming, and he knew things were always just going to be messy between them.
"This is a very nice dress," he commented, distracting himself as he worried the zipper free, flushing even deeper when he had to pull it all the way to the base of her spine to accomplish that goal. "Where did you get it?"
"My daddy made it for me," she said in the softest, most feminine tone he had heard her use to-date. "I didn't want it back then, especially since my favorite color is red not blue, but you don't make your daughter a red dress."
"Guess not," Soul chuckled, his hands lingering at the back of her neck even after he'd completed his task, encouraged by the fact that she neither let her hair down nor pulled away that she, too, felt the moment in suspension.
"I was such a shit back then," Vera whispered with a sad, wry smile. "And I guess… I'm still kind of a shit. Ungrateful. But in the end, I think I'm really, really lucky to have had such wonderful parents, people who were my best friends and my mentors. I'm lucky that it hurts so badly to have lost them, you know?"
"That must've been cool," he offered, hands still hovering on the edge of her heat. "To have family you're so close to. Parents that really focused on you."
"It was." Vera let go of her hair, reached one hand across her chest, interlocked her fingers with Soul's, and finally brought his hand to rest in the curve between her neck and shoulder. "Soul I- I came here for Crona, because even though I don't like parties I wanted to support him, and I came to try and be happy with my memories for once. But mostly I- I wanted to see you. I wanted to tell you some things, if that's alright."
"What is it," Soul queried, so focused on the rare gentleness she was displaying he didn't notice the way his thumb had gone rogue and started to lightly rub her neck, or the way she relaxed into his touch.
"I guess they're all… connected. But first I… decided I'm going to go work with Crona on the Black Blood again. I'm going to try to get this astral projecting thing under control."
"That's awesome," Soul congratulated with a grin, though she wasn't looking at him. "Have you told Cronaa yet? He's gonna be over the moon."
"Not yet," she said with a short laugh, staring forward into the intersection between stone wall and empty space and smiling. "I only just decided."
"And the other thing?"
"Hmm? Oh, well, um, and you can stop me whenever, but I just… I thought I should tell you I'm sorry. For being so… harsh with you."
"That's one way to put it," he chuckled, but stopped abruptly when he felt her tense under his hand.
"Don't joke; I'm being serious! I'm sorry! I don't mean to be irritable I just-" she broke off, sighing heavily through her nose and centering herself behind closed eyelids. "Last year, time stopped for me. Then there was you and everything started moving way too fast and you'd gotten so close to me before I'd realized anything was happening. I don't feel in control at all and that makes me angry and when I'm angry I lash out. And it would be one thing if I just used words but I don't. I come into your dreams and that's unforgivable, I know that. So I'm sorry. I'm not going to make any assumptions about your feelings, but I thought you should know, those are mine."
Silence thickened between them as Soul processed, digesting information that was particularly unexpected if not entirely new. She hadn't told him anything he hadn't already sensed from her, either in their physical interactions or on what he guessed was the astral plane. This wasn't some big revelation. Still, hearing her say it, confess it to his face, he had to admit to being taken off guard. His mind just sort of buzzed, maybe waiting for the right words to just descend from the heavens, maybe past words altogether. It didn't matter; Vera interpreted the quiet as a rejection maybe ten seconds into it and pulled away from him, turning and flashing a false smile.
"Well, that's all I had. Thanks for your help with the dress. Think I'll head in now, see if Black Star and Ragnarok have left any sort of refreshment at the table."
She made a move for the French doors but Soul was faster. His arm shot out to block her, his palm pressing into the stone perpendicular to their profiles, then he rotated, positioning her body between his and the wall and looking her full in the face. He was not smiling; his crimson eyes were dark and serious.
"It's not cool," he started in a low voice, not any sort of dangerous, just weighted. "To unload something like that onto someone and then run away without giving that person a chance to respond."
"Wouldn't want to be not cool," she mocked, though it was more a rebuke to herself for putting them in this situation than a commentary on Soul's word choice. "Alright, Soul Evans, if you'd like to respond then I'm listening. Go ahead and tell me about your feelings."
"My feelings, huh," he murmured, his eyes boring into hers with an intensity that was making her flush.
What might those be, he wondered to himself. What response did he want to make? He'd reacted to the information, but he didn't know how to put that reaction into words. What kind of confession could answer hers? Did he really want to confess anything? His gaze drifted downwards, to her slightly parted lips, and he found his elbow was starting to bend, bringing him closer. A tiny gasp slipped over those lips, mixing with the pounding sound of his heart. Simultaneously, he wondered what on earth he was doing and knew that this was, in the absence of words, his response. His feelings given an action. Vera's heart was racing too; he could feel it in their shared Black Blood. She stood stone still before him, wire tight with both terror and anticipation. Soul was so close that he could feel her warm little breaths on his face.
"There you are! Crona's doing his speech in ten minutes and wanted to check some things with you first," Maka's voice chimed
She poked her head around the door and caught them just before either had committed, her face freezing in its buoyantly pleasant smile even as her eyes widened at the sight of them. Soul jerked his gaze towards her and Vera let out a sort of squeal, going scarlet. Well, more scarlet. Without further comment from anyone she ducked under Soul's arm, nabbing her jacket and scurrying past Maka into the mansion, abandoning the weapon to deal with his partner alone. Neither of them moved for a long moment, electing to focus on staring each other down rather than on Vera's departure. Finally, Maka broke the stalemate, coming fully into view and narrowing her now completely disapproving gaze.
"Really," she reprimanded.
"Give me a break," Soul shot back, running his tongue over his sharp teeth and allowing his hand to slide over the stone and fall back to his side as he straightened.
Vera was, admittedly, flustered. Her skin was flushed, her heart was pounding, and she was definitely not looking where she was going. On a positive note she was not running flat out, so when she hit the immovable obstacle she just stumbled back a little instead of adding insult to injury and falling. It felt generally fleshy, but too hard to be a regular person. Blinking and shaking her head a little to regain focus, she looked up and made eye contact.
"What, you go blind or something," scolded Ragnarok, shaking a little white fist at her. "Watch where you're going you stupid mule!"
"Vera, are you alright," Crona asked in a much gentler tone, his hands hovering in front of his chest in case they were needed for some as yet unspecified task. "You look very red."
"I'm not red," she denied so quickly the words blended together, grabbing her own wrist defensively and looking away from him. "I'm absolutely fine. No problems here whatsoever."
"Are you sure?"
Crona frowned a little, unconvinced and apparently genuinely worried. Somewhere in Vera's brain a piece of information got flagged and she breathed deeply, trying to center herself and focus of the problem that was 1) right in front of her and 2) had absolutely no relevance to herself or Soul. She rolled her lips together and swallowed, willing herself to be more convincing as she met Crona's eye again.
"Yes, I'm sure. It was just- you know, I'm sure Maka will tell you about it later. Let's talk about you. Big speech is coming up from what I hear; you nervous?"
"I don't feel well at all," confessed Crona, pausing and grabbing his arm across his chest while still giving her an attempt at a smile. "But I think part of that may be how much Ragnarok ate. I don't want to tell Maka, because I know she worked very hard, but I think the caterers were not very good. I think the food might be bad."
"Dodged a bullet on that one then," Vera laughed a little, glad for the distraction. "But other than that you think you're ready?"
"I- um- no, not really," he squirmed a little as he spoke, eyes shifting to the floor. "Maka says I am, but… I know what I want to say and I know that I want to say it, but the thought of all those people looking at me, all at once… just that thought makes me dizzy. I-I don't know if I can actually do this-"
"Calm down, you're fine." Vera gave him a mechanical but well-intentioned shoulder squeeze, her eyes skimming the room for a quick fix. Finding one, she left Crona's side, approached the nearest decorative table, moved the flowers to the ground, and then returned to him with the white tablecloth in hand. "Here. If you stand behind this then no one will be able to look at you. Would that make you feel any better?"
"I-" Crona broke off, considering. Technically they would all still be looking at him, the fabric wouldn't change that. So the relevant question was not if this would hide him, but if it would make him feel hidden.
"I don't know why you're so hell bent on doing this dumb speech anyway," mocked Ragnarok, tugging his pink hair recreationally. "Let's just go back to the buffet table, save everyone the trouble of packing up leftovers."
"Ragnarok," Vera cut in, addressing the weapon directly. "Remember those other 49 pieces of candy you wanted? You keep quiet and hold this sheet in front of Crona while he gives his speech and I'll make them truffles."
"Why should I trust you? Got anything to offer up as collateral?"
"Come on, have I ever lied to you? You don't need any collateral; just do this little thing and I'll come through. Wanna make it a pinkie promise and then go play with our toys like the children we are?"
"Vera," Crona cut off Ragnarok's retort sharply, accepting the tablecloth from her still outstretched hand. "Thank you for this, and for coming. I'm very glad you're here."
"You know," Vera started, trailing off and allowing herself a small, brief grin and a blush. "Me too… Any way, I've gotta run to the restroom really fast. If it helps, I'll make sure to not look at you."
"It does," Crona said with a nod and a little smile, to which she flashed one of her own before scampering off with an urgency that convinced Crona she was indeed headed to the bathroom.
"Can you believe her," Maka's voice came from the same place Vera had originated and Crona turned back towards it, tilting his head in confusion. "And Soul- especially Soul."
"Um, yes? I think I can," Crona tried, eyes flicking away and then back to Maka as he wracked his brain for what she could mean. "I don't remember if Vera's ever lied to me before, at least not about something important. I guess going to the bathroom isn't all that important though… Why? Did she and Soul do something else? Something wrong?"
"Wrong might be a little bit harsh," she trailed off, bringing her fingers to her lips thoughtfully. "Let's just say I disapprove, especially of the timing. I'll tell you about it later."
"That's what Vera said you'd say," he nodded, chuckling a little when she huffed indignantly and moving in close to her. "You know, if it's private, I don't need to hear anything more. I'm sure it's not my business."
"Nor is it any of mine," Maka confessed, fidgeting a little before deciding this was a good time to give Crona a peck on the tip of his little upturned nose. "But that's neither here nor there. How are you doing? What's with the table cloth?"
"Oh this?" Crona held it up and smiled softly. "Vera got it for me. Ragnarok's going to hold it up while I give my speech so no one's looking at me, and I have my notes here, so I think I… I can deal with this."
"Credit where credit's due, the table cloth's a good idea," she admitted begrudgingly, picking up a corner and rubbing it between her fingers. "But I never had any doubt that you could do it. You've gotten so strong this past year, so brave. I know this is hard for you and I just- I can't tell you how proud I am that you're doing it anyway. Sometimes I think I can't love you any more and then you go and do something like this. I feel like I'm going to burst-"
Crona bent forward and pressed his lips over hers, softly cutting her off and allowing himself to briefly become lost in the millions of pleasurable fireworks that erupted from the point of contact. For a split second he considered just staying there forever, but there was something else he wanted her to know and other things that were waiting for him to take care of them. Reluctantly he pulled back, keeping his storm cloud eyes close to her wide emerald stare.
"You made me brave. Be proud of yourself, too."
She reached up and ran her fingers over his cheek, smiling warmly. Her lips parted to say more, or maybe she was going to kiss him again, but the sound of silverware being tapped on an empty glass cut her off. Together they looked over the banister, to where Kid was giving a preamble to Crona's speech. Soul, who had apparently teleported down there while the two were lost in each other's eyes, glanced towards them and gave a thumbs up, but cocked his head to indicate it was a question. If necessary, the plan was for him to grab Crona's notes and fill in, so what needed to be said would make it out regardless. Maka gave him a triumphant grin and a confirmation thumbs up.
"Okay," she said in an undertone, grabbing his arm and tugging him playfully towards the stairs. "Show time. Oh, and one quick thing before I forget. If I ever want to use these caterers again, talk me out of it? I know I'm nervous, but I definitely feel like it's the food that's upsetting my stomach."
"The food," Crona clarified, successfully distracted from his own nerves long enough for her to situate him on the bottom stair and threaten Ragnarok into position in a pointed undertone. "I- I thought it was fine!"
Maka withdrew to the side, standing with Soul to his left, and the rest of his friends were in a cluster of support to his right. Ragnarok was holding the white tablecloth obediently, though not without muttered, profane comment, and through it Crona could see dozens of shadows. Indistinct and shifting. His heart was pounding in his ears, oddly slow and elongated, like the two contractions of each beat were making their own distinct thump. His stomach churned violently, almost painfully. His breath was trying to be deep but the constriction of his ribs wouldn't allow it. And in his ears, in response to the rising fear now that the moment had come, the hellebore rang. But even as fear elongates and distorts moments time itself does not stop. Perhaps that's where the terror originates, the idea of becoming entrapped in an eternity of time as the situation deteriorates outside of one's control. Crona was not a stranger to these moments, to being cruelly pushed through them and emerging on the other side coated in panic and Madness. This time, though, he was the one doing the pushing. It was his choice and things would be different.
"G-good evening," he started shakily, fishing a little spiral notebook from his right pocket and opening it to a marked page. "I-I would like to th-thank everyone- thank you for b-being here…"
His temperature had climbed remarkably in the seconds it took him to speak, sweat sticking his pink hair to his angular face. Trembling, he glanced over to Maka and Soul, unsure of what he was looking for but seeking it anyway. They both pulled their lips into impossibly exaggerated grins and nodded at him vigorously, as one might coach a child or small animal. Crona supposed that must be what he looked like just now, a child experiencing stage fright for the first time. That's how he felt. The resurgence of fear and the disappointment of having been free before. But this was his choice, this time he had a choice, and he was not going to die if he spoke or remained silent. There was no danger but the danger he manufactured in his twisting intestines. He could choose not to be terrified, or at least he could choose to move through the terror with composure. Closing his eyes and willing his ribs to release, Crona took a deep breath and spoke the sentiments he had memorized with the words that came to him in the moment.
"That's how every speech starts, isn't it? Thank you for being here… And I'm sure everyone who says it means it, to some extent, but I am less sure that anyone else could have as much of a reason to be thankful as I do. All so suddenly when you think about it… One year ago, I couldn't really tell you what happened for most of the night, at least, not the things that happened in reality. My memories of then are mostly distortions; my mother never let me out unless she'd made me… not me, pulled inside out and saturated with Madness and magic. I don't remember- can't remember the city catching fire or the buildings crumbling or the screams, not in the way a memory is supposed to be. And I-I'm sorry for that. I was saved that night, I got the chance to live for the first time, but I know I'm the only one. I know many people- too many people, lost their lives or their livelihoods instead. The least I could do is remember what happened to them- what I helped bring to them.
"Yet in that I fail. I don't remember this city before me, I don't understand its loss the way I should, and there's nothing I can do or say that will unmake the changes. The only apology I can offer is… my gratitude. If not absolution this city, all of you, you gave me a chance I didn't deserve and kindness I had not earned. The penance you exacted has been a beautiful, wonderful life filled with more happiness than I had ever dreamed existed in the whole world. Together, just now, we've celebrated that life and I want to thank you all for being here and for allowing me to be with you too. Thank you for acknowledging that I have achieved and that even someone like me can do good in this world. Thank you for not giving up on me. But now I want to remember everyone who's not here- who never got the choice to be here. I want to remember that, overall, despite my own good fortune, today is not a good day. We've been happy; now I would like everyone to take a candle out to the gazing pool and just… be sad. Today… we should be sad."
There were two noises that alerted Crona to the fact that something was about to happen, though neither gave him enough warning to do anything about it. First there was the slow, hollow sound of someone mocking him by clapping their hands. That echoed in the stunned silence, managing to create a spell of infinity with only three collisions of the perpetrator's palms. The second sound was harder to catch, low and almost more of a sensation. Yet it was far, far more disturbing.
"Yes, you should be sad, monster. But I don't think that's possible, so we'll help you find the next best thing: suffering."
Crona's eyes snapped open, wide and ice blue, and his body went taught as the threat it was sensing became apparent. Metal sheared, compressed gas screamed as it was released too quickly, Ragnarok dropped the tablecloth, and Crona gasped before he could stop himself. Clouds of white gas were merging to form a dense fog through which only the staggering shapes of the partygoers could be seen. A cough tore at Crona's chest, joining the cacophony as others tried in vain to expel the fumes from their lungs. It was like inhaling steam, wet and wrong, and it tingled in his nostrils, making his nose and tongue feel numb. Ragnarok sort of gurgled, melting into Crona's back and causing the drug to hit him full force. Suddenly the world was spinning too fast for him to worry about discomfort and he found himself breathing deeply, his ribs contracting with less and less frequent coughs as he fell backwards onto the stairs. Light winked across his vision and he might've hit his head, he didn't really care. Nothing went black or anything dramatic, that was just the point at which Crona's memory stopped recording.
