Disclaimer: Thank Craig Mccraken. I don't - nor will I ever - own the Powerpuff Girls.
A/N: My dudes I am so sorry like a BaJillIOn TiMeS how could I just darn diddly darn I'm a horrible person! I am sorry so so sorry so so so so so so so so so so sorry I just wanna punch myself in the face wait I'll do it right now yep ow but I deserve it I am such a terrible author. No gonna lie, I've only written one chapter this entire time...I just HECk I want to kill myself for being so inconsistent and just ughhhhh. On the otherhand though, I've outlined my entire story and all the arcs! Properly! Well, kinda? It's kinda messy and difficult and arbitary but I've read through all of my ridiculous comments and future plans like 6 times and I think it's pretty good? I hope you guys will like it!
I'm not gonna promise that I'll update soon, but I'll certainly try! Hopefully with the help of my notes things will move much faster and flow much better!
I love you guys so so so much more than you can imagine and just thank you so much for sticking around after all my crap! If you feel like unfollowing, go ahead, I really truly deserve it. Just know that I cherish each and every one of you okay? 3
~ Chapter 21 ~
Colors
Buttercup gritted her teeth as she set the rabbit over the feeble flame. Anger boiled inside of her, and she dug her nails into her thigh until blood started to bead. Years of pent up frustration, heartbreak, and fear that she had refused to let out were flooding her senses. Everything around her was tinged with red.
She stormed over to the small creek a feet meters away, her feet burning with each step. As the current washed away the blood on her knife, she caught a glimpse of the moon in the blade's polished surface. It was full and bright tonight, silvery rays shining through the canopy of leaves. A full moon on Christmas—something that only occurred every three decades or so—and she was missing it. The party, the food, the warm fuzzing feeling she got whenever she was with her friends...
No, Buttercup thought forcefully, tossing her knife to the side. She never liked those parties, or the food, or Mitch or Travis or her sisters or anyone. They were all nothing. Just people, just illusions, fake, fake, fake, all of it was fake. Their relationships didn't mean anything. Nothing did. It was all just in her head. Everything they ever said was just—just lines from a script. Everything was just in her head. Nothing was real, nothing mattered.
She had always been alone, and she always would.
Buttercup sucked her lips between in her teeth and looked back down. The flickering flames of the fire cast a reddish glow onto the water, and she could just make out her reflection.
The wind had whipped her matted hair out of her ponytail, turning it into a tangled mess. She hated how long it was, how it always got in her way, how she only kept it long because Mitch liked it better that way, how weak and pathetic she was for doing so.
She hated it.
Her knife flashed and black strands were swept away by the current.
She hated it.
Grabbing the mass taut she sliced through another chunk. The neck length tips brushed her neck.
She hated it.
Buttercup flipped her hair over her head and lopped off another good two inches. Dilated green eyes stared back up at her in the water. The cold wind tingled against her bare neck.
Breathing heavily, she staggered to her feet. The knife slipped out of her hands and landed with a muted thud onto the snow. She felt a wetness on her cheek as she stumbled back to the fire.
Don't you dare! She thought numbly to herself as the flames in front of her became clouded and fuzzy. Don't you dare fu—
"I'm not! I'm not gonn—" she bit down hard on her lip. Barely registering the cracking of the fire, the night breeze, and the pair of glowing green gazing at her from behind the trees, she reached for the cooked meat.
She tore a chunk off with her teeth and chewed furiously, desperate to ignore the tears now falling freely onto her boots. The girl let out a small hiccup, and bit down on a leg.
The bushes rustled. She didn't bother to look up. The rabbit slipped out of her trembling hands. Her chest heaved in and out, her breathing becoming irregular.
Why. Why, why, why, why, why. She didn't understand anything anymore. Nothing made sense. The world spun, and suddenly she was aware of how incredibly, utterly terrified she was.
Buttercup didn't know what it was, or why she was sobbing, but fear gripped her. Darkness wrapped its arms around her torso and she gasped loudly, a quivering cry ringing throughout the forest.
A colored blob emerged from the leaves and stood still for a moment, before pouncing at the forgotten meat. Anger—the only emotion she was familiar with—took control again, and she bared her teeth, reaching to swipe the creature away.
Her arm was barely outstretched when a her stomach lurched. Pain washed over her in waves, and unable to choke back her tears she sobbed louder.
All these emotions. The hate, the remorse, the terror, the sorrow rushed through her all at once, leaving her conflicted and confused. One moment she wanted to scream at the world—curse at it for bestowing this life upon her. Yet the girl had to fight the urge to slump onto the ground in despair, to let the frigid cold take her and wipe away her thoughts.
She hugged her knees, eyes squeezed so tightly that dots danced in her mind. There was a feral hiss, followed by the barely detectable crunching of snow under paws. A soft thump sounded beside her, the barren log she sat on splintering under the extra weight.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, Buttercup pinched herself hard, biting her lip to keep herself from crying out once more. Clouded green eyes opened, and she accepted everything.
Accepted that she was no one. That she was lost. That she was helpless. Her vision sharpened—making the dark seem less dark, and the fluttering leaves glitter brighter.
The shape next to her transformed into a large feline. It's unusually yellow eyes were narrowed as they regarded each other warily.
A lynx.
Buttercup darted a glance at the branch from which her bow hung. She gnawed at the inside of her cheek and tried scooting away a bit. The beast put a paw forward.
Shoot. It would attack any minute.
Carefully, slowly, she reached down and grabbed a fistful of snow. As their gaze met she hesitated, but quickly recovered and threw it in it's face.
It snarled and lunged forward, but by then she was already at the tree, her arrow notched and aimed directly at the soft part of its neck.
The lynx paced around her, baring its teeth. She breathed in deeply, and as she exhaled the arrow cut through the air, striking where the creature was standing a second ago.
The girl immediately backed up against the wood, her eyes scanning the perimeter for the feline. A branch creaked above her, and her met with yellow ones.
She blinked and shook her head.
It's coat had turned a shade of dark green, shadows seemingly blending into the colors, creating an effect that resembled the swaying leaves. If she looked to the side just a bit it would fade back into the branches.
Immediately she spun around, now properly facing the beast. This was going to be...tricky.
They held each other's gaze in terse silence. The branch creaked once more, and the Lynx pounced. Buttercup barely had time to react, and it's outstretched claws raked across her left leg as she dove out of its way.
Grimacing in pain, she reached for the knife strapped to her belt, eyes trained on the Lynx as its pelt slowly reverted to the pale splotched white from before.
She unsuccessfully made an attempt to stand once more, the deep gash that extended from mid thigh to her calf oozing with dark red blood.
Dammit, she winced, her leg burning with each small movement. The creature padded forward, it's paws barely making a sound against the snow.
Buttercup jabbed the knife warily in an attempt to scare it off, but to no avail. With a snarl it lept once more, pinning her down as it's lips pulled back, showing off a pair of glistening white fangs.
Now breathing heavily, the girl squirmed viciously, letting out an ear piercing shriek as it dug its claws into her shoulder. In a fit of rage she buried her knife deep into where it's front legs and torso met, crawling backwards as it roared in agony.
With a feral hiss it limped off into the darkness, leaving behind a trail of unnaturally bright blood.
Buttercup propped herself back up against the tree, wincing at her injuries. What the hell was that? She'd never seen anything like the creature before, and highly doubted anyone in Selodia did either.
She properly took in her surroundings, no longer obstructed by numbing despair or blazing anger. The leaves rustled in the wind, and she was vaguely reminded of the ocean waves she so loved. Buttercup shook her head and squinted.
What was that? Over there.
No—all around. If she focused her eyes she could make out tiny floating luminescent specks in the air. Their ethereal glow made the whole forest seem sharper, the colors cleaner and brighter than they ever were back home.
She reached out to one, but as soon as she got close it dissipated. What was this? What was going on? Her mind now hazy with confusion and wounds throbbing, Buttercup shook her head and grimaced.
Wait. Now what was it? It felt almost like the earth under her was moving. Tremors running through the roots and dirt, energy coursing through the veins of the forest.
Was she going crazy? She was pretty sure that she was going crazy. Maybe the pain from cuts on her leg and shoulder were causing hallucinations.
Buttercup wasn't exactly a doctor, but she was fairly certain that when people started imaging floating lights and the earth moving it meant they were about die.
Her head drooped. She was tired. So, so tired. Was this it? Was she dying right now?
Gosh, she'd imagined going with a big bang, not alone and slowly descending into madness in the middle of god knows where.
But she was so, so, tired.
Screw it, she thought lethargically, a crooked smile stretching across her face. What's there to live for anyway?
The world faded into darkness around her as she wondered wistfully when they would find her cold, limp body.
Colors. Bright, bursting colors swirling together on the ballroom floor. Greens, blues, pinks, purples, reds. None of them captivated him like they used to.
He kept telling himself—commanding himself—to forget it. It didn't matter. Why should he care if some dumb girl ran off? It's not like the consequences would affect him.
The Night Owls would take it out on Travis, and Butch wouldn't even bat an eye if his doppelgänger was beaten to death right in front of him.
Screw Travis.
So why did he keep feeling this way? Why did he feel like he messed up big time? Why did he feel like he needed to go out there right now and find her?
"Butch."
She was a loud, obnoxious, clingy, whiny little brat.
"Butch."
He hated her.
Goddamnit Butch snap out of it."
He blinked. "What?"
Bricked glared at him and grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the dark corner he had been standing in. "Stop looking like a depressed heartbroken sap and get out there."
"I don't want to."
"Can you stop acting like a goddamn five year old and do aomehring right for a change? You like that girl right? The one with the long brown hair and blue eyes? Go! Shove your tongue down her throat for all I care, just stop—stop whatever you're doing right now." His red eyes glowed, grip tightening on his brother's green jacket.
Butch blinked again.
"Do I need to repeat myself? Go!"
With a quick Ok, Ok, Relax, the dark haired boy was sent off into the flurry of nobles.
He scanned the room, skipping over the blue eyed blonde giggling with a group of too-young-to-even-try-anything girls, and the orange haired girl clad in red conversing with finely dressed royals from across the sea. His gaze landed on the girl wearing the white gown wth red accents.
He made his way through the crowd, relieved that there was finally something to take his mind off Araceli but he could still feel his insides twist in uneasiness.
Butch fumbled with a way to approach casually yet charmingly. All his special tricks and lines seemed to have vanished into thin air. He couldn't think of anything.
The boy stepped awkwardly next to the brunette, shooting nervous glances.
"What's—uh, hello!" he chirped, just a little too cheerfully.
The girl turned toward him, smiling brightly. "Hi! I'm Robin!"
He'd forgot her apple.
He shifted his weight from one foot to another. "I'm Butch."
"Oh!" Her hand flew to her mouth. "You're one of the princes of Gadrea!"
"Uh, yeah."
"Where are my manners?" Robin curtsied, dipping her head. "Pleasure to meet you, your highness."
Butch knit his eyebrows and chewed on his bottom lip. "Same to you. And really, none of this 'Your Highness' stuff. It's not that big a deal."
Her blue eyes twinkled as she murmured,"Oh, of course."
He turned back to the dance floor. She rubbed her arm, averting her gaze a well.
"So, do you want to dance?" Her voice was a soft, unsure whisper.
There was a moment of silence.
"I'm sorry, but no, not really."
Her face fell. He continued to look at the colors. The swirling, endless colors.
"Oh."
Greens, blues, pinks, purples.
With a curt nod he excused himself and headed outside into the gardens. She didn't protest.
The moon was a pale shimmering disk against the darkness of the night sky. The hedges around him were covered in a layer of white.
Greens, blues, pinks.
He could see the all the townsfolk gathered in the streets of Selodia. Bright lanterns were hung from the lampposts, making the whole city glow with an otherworldly light.
Greens, blues.
He turned to the mountains and forests. Was she somewhere in there right now? The endless sea of trees, the snowcapped peaks, the unknown that lie beyond the borders of their kingdoms.
Greens.
~end of chapter 21~
