The nature of the malleable, of that which is shaped by thought and memory and desire, is precisely as complex and changeable as its occupants believe it to be. To predict its behaviour is near impossible, and that hair's breadth of a chance may be closed completely by any attempt to apply the familiar logic of the physical world. The usual rules lose all relevancy.
The sky here is broad and bright, and one prone to such thinking is likely to ponder this fact. By now, all inhabitants are aware of the limits of their location, the most painful and everpresent of which is the inescapable seal dividing them from freedom and friends alike. To walk too far, to fly too high, is to be confronted by the immutable, impassable proof.
But the sky itself pays no heed to such limitations. It is formed of a dream of the infinite, of misty mornings and scarlet sunsets, and most of all of a blue expanse neither glittering nor galvanised, but serenely scattered with silent, silver stars. And so it shall remain, at least for so long as it is remembered such.
Within this comforting illusion, a girl stands in the air, illumined and illict. Although flight is not her innate ability, it has become her instinct, and there is a dancer's grace in the way she steps softly onto the sand, surrendering herself once more to the earth's encompassing embrace.
She should not be here. Her trespass is etched in trepidation, and for the rarest of moments she hesitates. Though she yet holds no doubts as to her destination, she must consider her approach cautiously.
She shall not be seen.
The fabric of her confinement is eager to orient her footfalls, providing an incessant tug towards the gravity of her goal.
This is utterly unnecessary.
Nearby, a battle is soon to shall have begun. This she knows absolutely, believes unquestioningly, although she cannot fathom the forces which have imparted her insight. It is a war she wishes to witness.
Irksome, then, to know as absolutely that her presence is fated to cause calamity.
A choice was made, a determination set. It is not this portent which gives her pause. Seeing without sight lends her now a truer reason to wait a while on these silent sands, and she is caught in the rising light of new knowledge.
In this place, the Seer of Light is surrounded by radiance. And yet…
A darkness approaches.
In the first moments after their entrapment was discovered – and it has become her habit now to think of any such time as moments, were it once called minutes or months – in those very first moments, there was nothing to Rose Lalonde but confusion.
She would not believe such even herself, later, and she was to superimpose upon that memory every emotion she has felt in moments since, but in truth she would always know there is only so much one heart can hold. As that first long moment stretched out into an eternity, Rose could comprehend only that something vital had been lost to her, and precious little remained.
Jade.
The eight girls had all clung to each other for those initial moments, but there was something to be said for human comfort. With the trolls, Rose had shared one day – an undeniably eventful one, but nevertheless, a single day. With Jade, she had shared a universe.
To build a new life, one must first locate a foundation.
Moments later, Rose found herself once more drawn into the forest.
"Come away."
Bathed in the boundary's blue, Jade looked like midnight, unfathomable mystery. Rose was reluctant to step into that strange light, to watch her skin grow ghostly and her amber hood wash suddenly violet – but she approached anyway, as she always had before.
A tear of frustration glittered cerulean on Jade's cheek.
"There's nothing we can do."
A familiar mantra, half-believed. Jade had plumbed the depths of her abilities for an answer and returned nought. No, Rose knew that any answer the pair could offer would be hers alone, her responsibility to seek out and reveal. But thus far, she sought this solution blind.
Jade did not speak, and Rose knew there was little left to say. They had lived this moment a thousand times before – Jade drawn to attempt the impossible, and Rose hopeful to lead her home. Guilt had laid down these tracks, and each iteration sank them further into the familiar routines of their grief.
"I'm leaving."
Rose could not have been more hurt if Jade had slapped her. She froze, forcing her expression to remain neutral, her lips not to gasp "why?" She already knew why, and she would not wound her friend with pretence otherwise.
But Rose had never been as skilled at impassivity as her ectobrother. Her cheeks flushed, glowing a soft lavender, and she could not look at Jade.
Jade, for her part, still stared solemnly into the unseen void.
"Tomorrow," she elaborated, after a moment's pause. "I don't know when I'll be back."
Only then did she turn to Rose, placing a gentle hand on the other girl's arm. Rose turned to face her, wishing she had some way to tear her eyes from the grim expression.
"I have to try." There was an edge of desperation in Jade's voice, familiarity made haunting by way of its former strangeness.
Sooner or later, when one builds a castle out of sand, it is bound to wash away.
"I understand." And Rose did, more than Jade would ever know – and at the same time, not at all.
Rose shuts her eyes, listening to the rush of surf on shore.
Although the gifts of her god tier have been barely revealed to her, they have granted her some privileges. To retreat beneath her lids, to empty her mind, is to be revealed of a world of probabilities, a shimmering knot of interactions and outcomes.
Revelation is not comprehension, and much of this cat's cradle seems to her a vague and inscrutable snarl, evocative of some half-finished yarn project once chanced upon by a playful feline.
It is a rare stretch whose intended pattern can be discerned, but in an infinite tangle rare patches can quite often be found. It is from one such patch that Rose, her vision still shrouded in darkness, observes her companion's approach.
By the time she hears the quiet rippling of water behind her, she already knows what sight will greet her if she turns: a troll girl, smiling and barefoot in the waves, her long, wind-tousled hair disappearing into the constant halo of darkness which surrounds her, and sprawls shadows across the beach to tangle and snarl against the light.
Knowing thus, Rose does not bother to turn, although she does open her eyes, and permits herself a brief smile in appreciation of small ironies.
"Aradia. You're late."
Little was said before Jade's departure. Methods of navigation or contact had been rendered both inaccessible and redundant; whenever she wished to, Jade would find her way back. There was no need for 'come with me' or 'don't follow me' – not here, not now.
Neither said the word 'goodbye.'
It was only after her friend's silhouette had blurred against the horizon that Rose made her decision. Her closest friend had departed, in order to attempt feats that even her prodigious vocabulary could not put name to.
In her absence, the least that Rose could do was rebuild.
She could form new friendships. In her shared isolation, she had seen little of the trolls who had become her neighbours. She would –
A chime rang out.
Apparently, the first tentative steps towards social well-adjustment would have to wait until she had first investigated the unexpected use of her doorbell.
She did not know who she had been expecting, but she was certain it had not been Aradia Megido. She had barely spoken to the troll, and while their exchanges had been for the most part courteous they were hardly amicable. There was something unsettling about the girl's constant cheer, especially while all around her mourned.
"This is a surprise. Please, come inside."
Rose wished she knew enough of troll culture to offer the equivalent of a refreshing beverage, even if to do so was an exercise in futility given their current provision.
"This is a lovely house," Aradia informed her. "Your mother's?"
"More or less." Years of memories held strong sway, especially when one sought stability. Jade had provided her own reminiscence of architecture, but her influence was already receding.
"I hope you won't mind a few changes?"
"Not at all," Rose assured her, although in fact the trespass nettled her. Still, she supposed, the consequence of any such visitation was alteration – that was the nature of the environment, and it was respectful of the troll to at least apologise for those revisions she could not help but make.
"I shouldn't need much room, and there's plenty of space. Perhaps one of the rooms upstairs?"
Rose paused. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage."
"Well, I can't put a recuperacoon in here, it'll just be in the way!"
That, Rose understood well enough. Her confusion writhed and twisted, becoming mixed with horror.
"You intend us to cohabit."
Aradia's smile shrank slightly. "I assumed that – at least until Jade returns – you were in the market for a roommate?"
The show of disappointment repressed was absolute.
"Apologies. I did not intend to imply a rejection of the offer, I merely desired clarification."
"No, I –" Aradia got to her feet. "I was being too eager again. You clearly want to be alone. I should go."
"Please don't," Rose asked. "I didn't intend to –"
"I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome." The smile slipped away briefly, and upon its return it was yet again smaller.
Rose could see only one option remaining.
"I would love to share my home with you."
Aradia's eyes lit up. "Really? I wouldn't –"
"I insist."
The smile returned in its full glory, and Rose looked upon her newfound housemate with similarly novel respect.
She knew when she had been masterfully manipulated.
Two could play at that game.
"Sorry! I got a little lost." Aradia laughs. "The sea is wonderful, isn't it? Such a good idea to meet by it."
Rose had not intended a meeting here, with its rising risk of distraction or discovery. She had thought her ruse for Aradia flawless, the false dreambubble trail guaranteed to lead her away. A miscalculation then, but not a fatal one.
"It's beautiful. Do you care to walk with me?"
She does not wait for an answer, but begins to drift along the shoreline. The soft slap of soles on the damp sands tells her Aradia follows.
"Based on LORAF, I believe," Rose observes. "Although one cannot help but impose."
The seas in Kanaya's land had been still and silent, and the sands emerald. It is Rose's own recollections of light and liquid which draw the surf in swirling swells to shore, and bleach the sediment of its pigment.
"Kanaya is nearby," Aradia says. "Perhaps we should walk elsewhere. We wouldn't want to disturb her."
Rose continues in her path. The footsteps behind her quicken, until a rush of darkness sweeps across her slippers, a tangled tide of night and day fighting for dominance. Only then does she halt, and Aradia's final slowing steps bring her close enough for Rose to feel breath on skin.
They hold there for a moment, caught at the border of sun and shade, sea and sand. The rising winds tangle their hair and scatter fine grains of quartz around them, but for this stretch, they are still.
As promised, Aradia altered little about their home, but she brought with her something unexpected: a pulse, the steady tick from day to night and back again. She kept time, beating a steady 2/4 of light and dark, structuring herself with days and nights.
Rose did not follow the pulse. She slept only erratically, drawing darkness over herself like a quilt to block the sun's rays, or else burning as a torch against the night. She had already adjusted to her own moments, and she would not take Aradia's days.
The time was not rejected by all. Aradia drew in a steady stream of visitations, seeking clock or conversation. Away from the house, time was unclear, and they arrived at any moment. Rose learned to greet them, and watched as their numbers dwindled.
There were moments when the house was occupied, when friends walked the halls and shared their stories. There were moments when Rose walked alone, treading softly through her own candle glow.
And then there were the other moments.
"I presume you take sugar?"
It transpired that tea was a cultural overlap, and it rapidly became a point of ritual for the two girls in those moments they shared alone: to sit together, in twilight, and share a recently boiled pot.
"Thank you." Rose did not, in fact, take sugar, and as she sipped she forced herself to smile through the unbearable sweetness.
Aradia smiled, and sipped her own cup. When she put it down, Rose expected some inane discussion of their neighbours, as had become their habit.
"Tell me Rose," Aradia had begun. "Do you see?"
"I wish to see them." Rose speaks softly.
"Rose…" A perfect sigh of reproachful condescension, a hand touching her own, withdrawn sharply. "There is a reason why you don't."
Rose grits her teeth against the pretence of omniscience. The Maid of Time knows nothing of her prophecies of doom, yet she will still claim the wisdom of that foresight as her own.
She sets off again, faster now and inshore. Her aim is almost within her grasp. She needs only crest this hilltop and –
The sight of it captivates her.
A tangle of limbs, soaked in blood, two trolls tearing into each other for all they are worth while the sea churns with fury.
The fall of mist draws a memory from her, and a soft rain begins to fall. A drop lands on her cheek, mingling with salt and pain.
"You could stop this."
"Do I see?" Rose echoed. "Since I am patently not blind, I fail to see the pertinence of such a question."
"Then you are ignorant, or pretending as much," Aradia said. "Seer. Do you See?"
Rose lifted her cup delicately and took a slow sip before responding.
"It is a capability I am known to possess."
Aradia smiled and leant towards her. "Don't be ashamed if you can't. The Game didn't exactly come with an instruction manual."
Something about her understanding tone was a knife edge. Aradia constantly seemed to Rose to be instructing, controlling everyone through the aggressive act of advice.
Rose leant towards her, looking deep into those earnest maroon eyes.
"Thank you for your concern," she told Aradia, leaning almost out of her seat. "But I have nothing to be ashamed of."
Entirely out of her chair, she leant forward the last few centimetres, and kissed the troll girl on the cheek.
She drew the light around her as she left, half-drunk tea still cooling in darkness on the table.
Aradia has stepped beside her, and gazes upon the couple without emotion.
She does not respond.
"You could stop this," Rose repeats, half-turning to her. Even through her tears, she can see Aradia's smile. "Stop this. You're their auspistice!"
"And you pity them," Aradia acknowledges. "Rose…"
But from the corner of her eye, Rose sees one of the girls fall. She turns back in time to see the victor departing, the loser left bloodied on the ground.
Rose rushes down the hill towards the ruined girl.
"Go, then." Aradia smiles softly, and takes once more to the skies, an ink drop of night in the endless sea of radiance.
Rose does not look back.