a/n: part 4 of 5
"Are these things safe?"
"Do you think I'd be hovering thirty feet over that if they weren't?" Ekko shot back, his voice muffled by the mask covering his face.
Caitlyn leaned right and peer cautiously downward for the first time since entering the expansive void. According to Ekko it was once a lush valley, but that hardly seemed true now. For one thing, they were encompassed by a cloud of pollution in every direction. If it weren't already dark, Caitlyn was certain she still wouldn't be able to pinpoint the sun through the thick smog. Add to that a second-hand gas mask riddled with scratches that smelled of rotting sweat and it would practically be an impossibility. The more pressing thing though was that balance was not her strong-suit. Bad balance and risk aversion meant her interest in accidentally misplacing her weight and plunging to her death was at the bottom of her list. It was only through Ekko's challenging tone that she felt compelled to swallow her fear and take in her surroundings.
Seeing through the cloud below was difficult, but she slowly began making out the sharp, eroding, deathly mat of scrap metal that canvased the ground. She felt her throat clench around a swallow and her fingers clench tighter around the shoulders of her counterpart.
Unmatched hand-eye coordination, controlled, focused breathing, and critical thinking that could juggle half a dozen variables. These were all things Caitlyn was practiced in. From a young age she'd navigated toward the calculated, controlled, analytical studies. For better or worse, it generally meant that games, brawling, and anything that required mild improvisation was not part of her wheelhouse.
As a result, self-coordination was lacking. There weren't many things Caitlyn came up with excuses for, but she uncharacteristically heard her voice blaming her tall stature for the shaky way she clumsily climbed onto the hoverboard. If she were shorter, her center of gravity would obviously be more suitable.
Four steadying moments were needed to settle the fight or flight instinct that kept overcompensating her uncertainty and jerking the hoverboard to either side, nearly spilling her off the edges. Finally situated and sitting on her knees at the back end of the board, she glanced back toward Ekko who stared back, arms crossed and eyebrows arched in silent expectation. It was only then that she realized standing would be a requirement.
Another three moments were lost to flimsy attempts at standing before the scales finally tipped and she tumbled off. A snort of disbelief came from the Firelight watching the topsider make a fool of herself. It took a threatening scowl and a reminder that every wasted second was one more second away from their destination; from the shimmer. Caitlyn didn't need to elaborate any further - the tone carried the concealed meaning: every wasted second kept them from Vi.
This reminder shook Ekko's unhelpful attitude, and he offered up a helping hand and a stern warning that backseat driving was strictly forbidden. They were then flung into the air, and Caitlyn felt her hands reach out and grab onto Ekko for dear life. If she weren't so distracted by the thought of falling off, she might have enjoyed herself weaving in and out of Zaun's urban decay.
Only once they'd left the heart of the city behind did she find her sea legs. Since then, she'd only thrice felt unsteadied, sending her feet shuffling - inching - pathetically and hands blindly clutching at Ekko's sure stance.
By then the orange hue of the sun had turned red and purple, setting against the horizon. A whirlwind; that's how Caitlyn would have described the entire day. It had all happened by accident. Or luck.
It felt like only moments before when the sun was breaking along the opposite horizon; the bright memories of a crisp snowy morning on the edge of Caitlyn's mind.
But then Vi had left; fled; ran away.
It didn't take long for the sting of Vi's words to fade - it was practically instantaneous. Perhaps weeks earlier they would have kept Caitlyn at bay for a time, but if there was one thing Caitlyn had learned in the last few weeks, it was how the Zaunite operated.
Vi was a fighter, but more than that, she carried the weight and blame of her perceived inaction squarely on her shoulders. It was unreasonable and went against every logical neuron that made up Caitlyn's analytical mind.
The perceived inaction was entirely out of her control, but Vi was beyond persuasion that being thrown into a jail cell as a teen wasn't her fault; that every second lost to the pit of prison wasn't a second Vi was a failure; that every bad thing that came after wasn't because she didn't try hard enough. There was an anguish in Vi that kept her closed off, blinded, and stubborn to an infuriating level.
It was this reason Caitlyn had stared at the empty, open window for a long, hard minute, trying to decide whether jumping out after her into the chilly snowy morning wearing nothing but flannel pants and a t-shirt was a worthwhile pursuit. Changing would take too long, and surely Vi was moments away from flinging herself from the ledge that separated Piltover and Zaun.
But Caitlyn had gotten better; faster. She was trusting her feet more. Granted it still took her nearly ten times as long as Vi to scale the same precarious assembly of architecture, but perhaps she could still catch up. Perhaps it wasn't the most preposterous thing.
It was. Her reasoning was quick to catch up to the knee-jerk reaction of chasing after the Zaunite. Instead, she distractedly changed and hurried through the corridors that led her back to the gathering room she'd spent the late hours with Vi the night before. Instead of the confident, snarky brawler sitting fireside, she was met by Jayce, pacing nervously and dressed like he'd been awake for hours.
Years as friends meant Jayce knew Caitlyn wasn't a morning person, and yet he was still here. The reason? News of a large shimmer operation in Zaun.
"That's not news, Jayce; that's just reality."
"Except now it's being led by Jinx."
It got worse: "Most of Silco's old allies have joined her."
"Who of Silco's allies would trust her?"
It didn't make any sense, but desperation and madness rarely did. Yes, Zaun had it's freedom, but that didn't eliminate the years of abuse and oppression at the hands of Piltover and the likes of Silco who used misery as a means to spawn an epidemic to fuel his own agenda. Jinx had proven she was unreliable, but that didn't disappear the cravings addicts had for the purple poison.
"When did you learn this?"
Caitlyn did not like the response.
Of course the Firelights would be the first to catch wind of the news. Of course they would find the necessary avenues to get the information topside. Of course they would use their underground network to their advantage. She and Vi had run lead after lead aground, yet the moment they returned topside was the moment the Firelights stumbled across something worthwhile.
Caitlyn didn't hate any of that. It was a vital asset to shutting down the shimmer pipeline, and that they landed on that information before or after they'd left Zaun didn't matter all that much. What she did hate was that a very stubborn, single-minded oaf of a partner had just sprung from Caitlyn's room and scurried back to the undercity where the leader of the Firelights could and would likely pass that information off without batting an eye.
Assuming he even saw her. Assuming she even sought him out.
It took only four hours to discover these were all reasonable assumptions.
The hours between Vi fleeing from her room to hovering three dozen feet above a metal graveyard had been both the longest and shortest of Caitlyn's life. Somewhere in the chaos of getting lost navigating the narrowing, weaving, dead-ending alleys of Zaun and running into Ekko, she'd pictured the worst: Vi setting course toward Jinx's latest hideout on her own.
Unfortunately for her, that fear was exactly why she, Ekko, and a handful of fellow Firelights were crossing a forgotten wasteland.
"I hope you're as good a shot as Vi says you are."
"Why?"
"Because those aren't just any fumes," Ekko replied, nodding toward the silhouette of a building on the horizon. The hard edges were just becoming clearer, but that wasn't what Ekko was pointing to: it was what was exhaust coming from the building's chimney stacks. Caitlyn squinted her eyes past the scratches of her mask and the haze of pollution, widening in surprise only when she noticed the familiar purple hue of shimmer wafting into a stagnant cloud lingering over the worn-down factory.
"This isn't just a hideout; this is a processing plant. Can't believe we didn't catch this sooner."
Caitlyn didn't respond to Ekko's frustrations, entranced wholly by the suspended purple swirling lazily with the orangy-pink haze of pollution against the darkening sky. It would have been a beautiful combination of colors if not for the menacing fact both could kill.
Sensing either the risk, adventure, or thrill of a fight, Ekko's pace increased, sending Caitlyn's fingers tightening once more around the Firelight's shoulders.
"Hope you brought extra ammunition, Sheriff; could get messy."
"I've brought plenty."
She said it with practiced conviction.
The interim-sheriff had no problem fighting shimmer or the noose of corruption tied to it. She understood every encounter introduced risk, but quite often that risk turned to violence. It was the violence that was at the crux of the issue: Caitlyn hated harming. The thought of injuring someone in body, mind, or spirit sent her brow furrowed and eyes narrowed in disgust. Every living being deserved some semblance of respect and the right to live life without fear of injury.
It was only natural then, that Caitlyn hated killing. She was a conduit for justice, yes, but her title was Sheriff, not Judge or Jury or Executioner.
As a child she'd been trained to shoot fixed and moving targets, but rarely breathing ones. When she was eleven, Tobias took her hunting for the first time. It was a crisp, fall morning where breaths clouded the air and an orange sunrise glistened over the frosted field that led them into the woods.
Her father was a mild-mannered man, empathetic and feeling in ways Caitlyn never quite was. He explained the process of shooting, the importance of a merciful aim, and the thanks for the sacrifice of a successful kill. It all made sense to her: of course she wouldn't take for granted the death of an animal. It wasn't a sport; it was a form of sustenance; a gift of nourishment. It was as logical and straightforward as a math proof.
That was, until she experienced what it meant to take a life. Then it became more than a simple cause and effect; it became a burden to carry. In the span of a single gunshot, she learned the power wielded when she aimed, fired, and stopped a heart. There was never a question of whether she'd hit her target; it was always a matter of understanding the consequences.
And on that morning the gravity of those actions hit her like a tidal wave.
The vibration of the shot rang in her ears as the beast stumbled at the sudden impact. One leg tripped another, and it quickly collapsed to the ground, sending Caitlyn upright from her hiding spot. She'd approached the beast quickly; a hint of victory in her step: she'd managed a direct hit on her very first try.
But then the hollow groan of pain echoed from the depths of the dying animal and ricocheted off the forest walls. It clawed at the surface of Caitlyn's skin and sent a chill down her spine. A second guttural cry of suffering halted Caitlyn in her tracks, and she watched helplessly from a distance as a final heave of its chest fought against the shadows of death.
Her father continued ahead, glancing back and calling to join him. Her arms fell slack, and the butt of the rifle felt like lead in her hands. The long, cold muzzle brushed carelessly against overgrown brush as she slowly shuffled to meet her father; to meet the destruction she'd just caused.
The experience of death wasn't something books captured well. Caitlyn had poured over anatomy books to understand how vital organs were nested to produce life and how abnormalities could snuff it away. She'd read that a blocked artery produced a heart attack. She understood a brain aneurysm could halt life. She'd learned that a shoulder shot could take out the heart or an aorta, causing instant death.
What books didn't explain was that 'instant' lasted a lifetime. They didn't explicitly describe the laboring breath, the moans of desperation, or the final spasms of a dying animal. They also didn't outline the gut-wrenching sight of death: of the empty eyes; the final wisps of heat radiating from the body; the velvet red that stained the coat and pooled on the forest floor.
It wasn't a lesson she was prepared to learn that chilly morning, but it was one she carried closely every day onward.
So given the chance, she didn't kill. Given the chance she aimed to startle; perhaps to wound, but never to kill.
In the weeks since Jinx's attack on the Council Building, more aggression and animosity had crawled out of the woodwork. The act of violence against her neighbor had lit a fire in the newly independent city. From it spawned new kinds of desperation among the citizens. The first was from the deep-seeded hatred for Piltover that raged violently and felt renewed aggression in the heat of Piltover's darkest day. The second was disoriented desperation at the realization that the corruption of Zaun could bend even the knees of Piltover. The third was simply from the citizens who wanted a peaceful life for themselves where each day wasn't spent scraping together enough coin for food. It was perhaps the worst of the three, because this was the kind of desperation that left people thinking they had nothing left to lose.
The upheavals that followed were inevitable, and they raged throughout the city left free without a leader. The news of Silco's death had been both celebrated and grieved by the city. It was in this that new turf lines were drawn.
Enforcers were called in by a desperate panel of Zaunites looking to quell the growing level of terror in their own streets. Caitlyn had readily agreed, much to the dismay of her own neighbors. With Jayce's support, they had funneled teams of enforcers into the towns under the supervision of Zaun's interim government.
It was exhausting and spoke to the desolation of so many Zaunites left forgotten and frustrated by inaction. She didn't blame them for their anger; their world was one of oppression and poverty. She wasn't a mistreated citizen, but she felt her own share of anger nonetheless. Anger at the inaction of Piltover; anger at realizing Piltovians had turned a blind eye to assuage their own guilt and complicitness; anger that too little for too long had ignited a blaze that would burn long and hard, perhaps forever severing the ties that once bound the two regions.
But she'd been naive to think there weren't any casualties. The silver lining - if it could be called that - was that she sat separated by a scope and one hundred feet from the impact of her decisions. It was enough distance to hide the graphic horror if her aim wasn't true; if it wasn't precise; if it wasn't targeted only to harm.
That's what made this particular night so foreboding: she didn't have the barrier of distance between her actions and consequences. The handful of hoverboards had slipped along the side of the factory, scoping out any sight of activity along the building's exterior. A small sigh of relief came when none were discovered. It meant the chance of surprise was still with them.
"You can take that off," Ekko said as their feet found solid ground. Caitlyn had never been so thankful for dirt, but her attention was on Ekko's fingers detaching the straps from his own mask.
"It's safe?" she called through leather and rubber and glass.
"See that cavern?"
Caitlyn followed Ekko's finger upward and behind him, squinting for the umpteenth time past the massacre of scratches on her mask.
"It exhausts fresh air; the active flow keeps the pollution leeward of the factory."
Caitlyn hesitated briefly, remembering the stories from her childhood of the suffocating air that clogged up the undercity, but when all of the other Firelights followed suit, her own fingers rose in compliance. A cool breeze struck her cheeks; a surprise given the humidity they'd just traversed through. The rush of wind came from the dark shadow drawn into the wall of stone behind the factory, and Caitlyn took a grateful breath.
For a moment, any thought of Vi had slipped the group's mind. They'd just stumbled onto a functioning facility producing shimmer, and by the scale of the building and the number of drums lined up along the perimeter, it was the biggest yet.
"We should scope the place out, figure out how many there are, then send word for back-up," Ekko directed. "Once we have an idea of just how much shimmer this is, we ca-"
The rest of the leader's words were lost to an explosion and crash that came overhead, sending a cannonball of steel and fire hurling through the exterior wall.
Caitlyn's hand instinctively reached over her shoulder and unholstered her rifle; a familiar click locking it in place. A look of concern from Ekko was waved off, and without another second wasted, all boards lifted to the air and circled the perimeter above. Caitlyn watched from the ground at the seamless choreography; a consequence of too many battles fought for peace.
She remained at a distance for only a moment longer, absorbing the sounds and activity rumbling from inside the factory before setting out on foot to gain higher ground. The grounds surrounding the building were its own kind of wasteland: machinery from what appeared to be shipbuilding lay in ruins along the flat land that fed into the dried-up valley that spanned between it and Zaun. That flat yard ran abruptly into a vertical wall of stone and rock. Approximately half of the building was nestled into this rock, and Caitlyn had no doubt in her mind that the fourth wall of the factory was made up of the exposed mountside on the interior.
Glimpses of green light whizzed overhead as Caitlyn's boots clambered for footing along the rock and against the building as more explosions sent the facade rattling against the steel and wood structure holding it up. Another crash sent another chunk of steel exploding through the facade two meters above Caitlyn's head, and she took full advantage of the new opening. Less than a minute later, she had eyes on the factory layout and the chaos buzzing around the catwalks and vats of purple populating the ground.
In the midst of it all? Caitlyn's squatty, brawling partner donning a pair of Hextech gauntlets. Anger at Jayce would come later; now though she needed to set her thoughts - her feelings - aside and focus. The halestorm of black smoke and small explosives from the Firelights were the perfect distraction from the rush of blood pulsing in her ears at the sight of Vi singular and alone surrounded by a sea of vats, mutations, and rage.
The chaos lasted too long.
Caitlyn's aim stayed true; providing an invisible shield to Vi's efforts. Whether Vi noticed in the thrall of her heaving gauntlets, Caitlyn didn't know. What she did know was that every punch that landed against Vi's frame motivated Caitlyn's attention to be sharper, her trigger to be quicker, and her aim to be deadly.
The distance remained between Caitlyn and the fight, but unlike other encounters a franticness set in. It was a kind of panic rooted in fear that a missed shot put Vi in graver danger. It was a kind of panic that heightened her usually cool temper. It was also a kind of panic that toed the line between 'protecting' and entering into a state she'd live to regret.
It was in this state of panic that Caitlyn tracked each target through her scope; each instance nearing closer and closer to the vital organs she knew by heart. It was only at the last moment she felt her shoulder pull to softer tissue; to less fatal locations. Over and over the tug to kill - to protect - blinded her training, and over and over she fought to restrain herself.
The fight was too garbled for anyone to take notice of her location and the unforgiving reign of bullets that pierced mutated skin and sent limbs collapsing while cries of surprise gave voice to the pain reverberating through their nerves.
The Firelights too worked quickly and with practiced precision, but shimmer wasn't something to take lightly. Innocent and corrupt all knelt to the power of the poison, and it was a disease that had burrowed deep into the city like a cavity. Worse yet were the engorging mutations, numb strength, and loss of self-awareness that drove the volunteers to impossible extremes; extremes Vi was willing to go to.
Caitlyn fell into a dance of sorts; there was the rhythmic pull against her shoulder when a bullet loosed itself from the barrel followed, then there was the critical way her eyes canvassed the ground in search of the nearest threat to Vi. Somewhere in that she felt a distracted pull to see the dance Vi herself was doing. For as violent as it was, there was an elegance to Vi's stance; to the way she blocked and undercut the inexperienced foe. Vi was a fighter, and there was a beauty to her form. In the brief moments Caitlyn chanced a look, she was struck by how the careful form and precision resonated with her own craft.
And so the performance continued: the Firelights overhead with their guerilla warfare and tactical, pointed attacks while Caitlyn lingered from afar, interfering where she could and finally Vi, at the center of it all, swinging with an endless source of rage and grief as her inspiration.
What remained when the last shot fired, the final punch thrown, and the fizzling sparks from explosions ended was nothing short of carnage. They'd arrived to find Vi, and they would leave with a war story. It would be a war story some would consider successful, but to Caitlyn, it would represent the very thing she'd fought so hard to refrain from.
Her boots ruffled through the destruction in search of the guiding blue light. The ground was a montage of stone, mud, trickling water, and the eerie purple of shimmer in pools of spilled vats. At least, that's what Caitlyn told herself. The thought of the swirling glow coming from the unconscious bodies littering the ground wasn't something she could stomach. She couldn't stomach it in the same way she couldn't let herself believe the bodies were anything but unconscious. Death felt too close, and she averted her gaze for fear of seeing the empty memories flickering in their eyes.
The light swoosh overhead gave her a hint of comfort: before the chaos began, seven hoverboards had crossed the valley. A quick survey tallied seven floating above, and she felt a wave of relief. Another wave came when she finally caught sight of the soft blue glowing between the cracks of unbroken shimmer vats.
Caitlyn approached slowly, careful to navigate safely around the broken glass and puddles of shimmer but never ceasing to keep her eyes focused on the glow from Vi's gauntlets. When she finally caught sight of them, she felt her brow scowl and her heart rate quicken: the gauntlets were there, but Vi was-
A small groan broke the surge of fear and adrenaline coursing through Caitlyn. Her eyes immediately tracked to the sound, and her hands and feet blindly climbed over a pile of debris. Her eyes adjusted to the shadows cast around the space and settled the tiny form sitting - leaning - against the shambles of a wall, elbows propped up on her knees, bloodied knuckles hanging limply, eyes closed, and face turned up in a look of pure exhaustion. The only hint of movement came from the heaving of her chest to catch the hour of breaths she'd missed.
"I see Jayce fixed your gauntlet," she said, sliding down the pile.
"And I see you aren't any good at listening."
"Interesting analysis considering my being here stopped half a dozen deformed, deranged attackers from beating you to a pulp-"
"I had it handled."
"I'll take that as a thank you," Caitlyn replied, crouching down to match Vi's gaze. A fresh cut over her eye sent a trail of blood down her cheek, and Caitlyn instinctively pulled a clean kerchief from her pocket.
"What are you doing here?" Vi growled, flinching at the cloth Caitlyn pressed to her temple. "Piltover's Sheriff shouldn't be in Zaun-"
"Even you can't be that dim."
"But h-ah," she hissed, "how'd you find it?"
"It?"
"This place."
Caitlyn hummed, swallowing the response she wanted to say. She wanted to tell her she didn't give a damn about some warehouse. What she cared about was Vi; that she was alive and well and breathing and not making stupid impulsive decisions that put her in iminent danger. Instead she settled on: "Luck, mostly."
It wasn't a lie: the tip from Jayce had been the beacon that propelled her into the undercity's underbelly, but it was pure luck that she stumbled across Ekko. With his intel on shimmer's latest production holdouts and their combined knowledge of Vi's tendency to pick a fight bigger than herself, it was almost too easy to track her down.
"There's no such thing"
"Then call it fate," Caitlyn replied easily.
For a moment Vi's expression softened, and Caitlyn felt her heart flutter. These were the moments; the glimpses; the flashes of vulnerability Caitlyn craved. They were the bits of Vi that she kept hidden; concealed from view, and these were the parts that Caitlyn wanted so desperately to see. It was in the way the scrunch in her nose faded, her eyes rounded, and the muscles in her jaw relaxed. It was in every way Vi wasn't the blunt instrument she pretended to be.
But they weren't the parts Vi would ever let her see.
"I thought I told you to stay away."
And just like that the walls were rebuilt and the armor replaced.
"You've told me a lot of things, Violet."
Vi flinched again, whether it was at the nerve endings screaming through her body or at being called by her full name, Caitlyn didn't know, but she was willing to chance a guess.
"It's for your own goo-"
"If you tell me one more time what is and isn't for my own good, I am going to leave you to crawl your own way out of this factory, back through that graveyard of scrap, and through the maze of alleys crawling with shimmer addicts going through withdrawal."
It was all a lie of course. Now that Caitlyn had found Vi, there was less than zero chance she'd let the brawler out of her sight again.
"Might be for the best," Vi muttered, pulling away from the pressure of Caitlyn's hand.
"Enough," Caitlyn said, her voice edging toward anger; anger at the obvious way Vi dismissed how important she was to the cause, to peace, to Zaun, to her. She lifted her other hand to Vi's cheek, turning her face back to meet Caitlyn's eyes. "I care, Vi, and it's about time you accepted it."
"You can't j-"
"Yes," she interrupted, eyes locked on Vi's and with it stripping her of her retort. "I care about putting a stop to shimmer. Yes, I care about getting those gemstones back."
Vi's upper lip snarled, biting back a retort while her jaw fought to shake off Caitlyn's hand, but the Sheriff held on, steady and resolute.
"But I also care about this city - about Zaun," Caitlyn continued. "I care about the lives clinging to existence. I care about making a better world for them; about giving them a chance; about cleaning up the bad to make room for the good. And that starts with extinguishing the dangers that threaten it. That's why I care about shimmer and Jinx and the gemstones, because as long as they're out there, I don't know how it gets better."
Whatever walls Vi had been building up to defend herself crumbled. Caitlyn could see it in her fallen expression, and the softness in Vi's eyes revealed the uncertainty and vulnerability she fought so hard to hide.
"And I care about you," Caitlyn continued, softer; a whisper; a secret meant only for Vi's ears. "I care that you care so blindly. I care that you live. I care that when we find Jinx we also find your sister; that you find happiness; that you find l-… I care, Violet. So please, stop pushing me away."
"Wow, not even Mom was allowed to call you Violet."
The familiar taunt sent Caitlyn's shoulders rigid and every wall Vi had let crumble back into place. Caitlyn felt feet spin and her eyes pull upward, landing on the familiar blue braids sitting atop the pile of rubble..
"Would you tell your girlfriend to hurry up already, Vi? I've got more important things to do than listen to this all night."
"Powder?" The sound of stone shuffled as Vi lifted herself up, her attention fully on the voice of her sister.
A condescending cackle erupted through the building, and Caitlyn saw the neon green of the hoverboards illuminate in recognition of the new threat.
"How's it hangin', sis?"
"Get Ekko and the others out of here," Vi muttered lowly in Caitlyn's ear.
"Not a chance. I'm not leaving you-"
"This isn't up for debate. I can't get Powder back and protect them."
"Aww, still playing hero?" Jinx asked, a makeshift grenade swinging from her right index finger.
It was cavalier and sent Caitlyn's blood boiling.
"Then don't. Let us help," she said, turning to face Vi, ignoring the raspberry Jinx offered in response.
"Don't you get it? I can't lose them; I can't lose you."
"You won't."
"You don't know that. You don't… please; please just go. After last time-"
"I won't let you do this alone."
The sound of stone scraping metal drew both Caitlyn and Vi's eyes back to Jinx. Caitlyn's bulged at the machinery brought into view.
"You two done yet?" Jinx asked, her tone light and carefree considering she now wielded a machine gun.
"Please-"
"I'm not going anywhere, Vi."
a/n: just here to spread the good word: comments are a fantastic source of fiber and a lifestyle I wholly subscribe to. That means whether you loved, hated, or 'hm'-ed it, I wanna know! :)
