A/N: So I was out of town with no computer/Internet when I was going to update this, then I forgot, so here's a second chapter to make up for it!

There is a place where sea and sky meet

And there they exchange their little treats

As they watch the failed birds fall from the cliff

And wonder as the cold bodies grow stiff

== Damara: Snap

It's like someone's dropped a bombshell in the room. "Lord English has a sister?" "What?" "What the fuck?" "Who?"

"Whoa, dudes, calm down. This is Callie. Lord English chucked her out on the streets when he came to power. She's his twin sister."

"Calm?" Aranea shrieks. "Calm?"

"Yeah, you heard me," Roxy nods. "We gotta be cool as cucumbers. Cool as ice. Callie's gonna help us."

Callie sits nervously on the edge of someone's (someone in the Underground's) chair. "I'm here to help the Magicals," she says. "Because he and I have opposite magic and because he threw me out on the streets." There's real pain in her voice, the pain of a girl who has no family left anywhere in the world.

"See?" Roxy says. "One-hundred percent trustworthy, Lalonde seal of approval."

Kankri drops his guard and the others slowly follow suit. "Pull up a chair!" Roxy says. "We're having dinner. Veggie stew and bread."

Callie nods. "It's very nice," she almost whispers, but it's very sincere. "Is this house safe?"

"Our home is safe," Rose affirms. "Our magic can detect spies and spying devices. You're safe as long as you're here. Out there, we can make no promises."

Callie nods. "My magic is entirely defensive. I can protect myself out there," she says.

"You would like to join us, yes?" Kankri asks. If he could afford a pair of eyeglasses, he'd straighten them right then. "You'll need a title."

"May I be a Muse?" she requests. It's a title that's been given to one other person, as far as you know. "The Muse of…"

"Space," Jade says, perhaps feeling an instinctive bond with the other girl. After all, if Lord English is twenty-two, so is she. Not so much older than you.

"Muse of Space, welcome," Porrim says. You don't have any sort of initiation here; anyone who wants to join can. Callie manages half a smile. She must be nervous. You think about the already insane risk of fighting Lord English, combine that with the fact that he's her brother, and decide that despite her demure appearance, she must be incredibly brave.

You haven't spoken yet. Of course you haven't; you don't have, have never had, the courage to interject your own voice into a conversation. But maybe you could try.

"Callie?" you almost whisper.

"Oh, hello, love." She says it like "luv", you can tell from the way she says it. "Who're you?"

"Damara," you say timidly. "Damara Megido."

"Nice to meet you!" she says, smiling kindly and politely. "I'm Callie. But you knew that already."

You nod, intimidated by her bright, bright smile. You drop your head to stare at your lap and play with your hands nervously. Social anxiety, Rose called it. Being so afraid that people won't like you that you can't even bring yourself to speak, compounded by natural shyness of course. Being around people just makes you so damn nervous.

Callie taps you on the shoulder and you jump. You turn to face her, her eyes full of concern. "Are you alright, luv?"

"Fine," you whisper. "Uh...I've just got social anxiety," you say all in one breath.

"Social anxiety?" Callie asks. "That's alright. Everyone has struggles!"

You nod and turn away because if she looks at you for one more second, you'll just collapse on the spot. You can't stand being looked at. Callie seems to notice and turns away, too, leaving you in solitary peace.

"Hey Dam-dam!" Meenah shouts to you. Not this again. You brace yourself for the onslaught.

"Engaged again?" Meenah teases cruelly. "Is someone's true love come back for them?" She laughs at you and your friends shoot her angry glares, because they know you're too afraid. Resentment heats in you like a fire, bubbling the waters of your mind almost to a boil. But nothing shows on your face as you stammer, "Leave me alone." When you were engaged, you were in love with the man you were engaged to. Then he died and you thought you'd lost him forever. And then you ran away from home and discovered that he wasn't dead at all, and that your love was completely one-sided. You're not even sure Rufioh loves women. You hate talking about the whole carriage wreck, but Meenah won't stop bringing it up and she knows it hurts you. You suppose she's trying to goad you into reacting, but you can't. You just can't.

"Aw, poor little Damara, feeling all down on our poor little heart, are we?" Meenah taunts. You want to sob, or scream, or something, but you're too afraid.

"Stop it," Roxy says. "Can't you see she's upset?"

"Oh, lighten up, girl," Meenah laughs. You wish you had the strength to stand up for yourself, but Roxy and your friends always end up doing it for you.

"I'm going to bed," you say, almost running upstairs to your room. You hate Meenah! You hate, hate, hate her! Why won't she leave you alone? What have you ever done to her? No one even listens to you! None of your friends even care! The only thing keeping you together right now is that your sister is coming home in a few days and you'll be able to see her again. Some of your friends don't understand how you can worry so much about your sister because you ran away and she didn't, but she's your little sister and she's already nearly died once. You can't just not care about your baby sister.

You look over at the other bed in the room and sigh, curling your knees up to your chest and burying your face so no one can see. A long time ago, you chose to share a room with a nighttime worker so you'd have it to yourself in the day because you would not be able to cope with sharing a room. Just your luck that your assigned roommate is Rufioh. You'd change rooms, but you don't want to be a burden and the only other room with an empty space is Meulin's, but now Nepeta sleeps there when she can and anyways, Meulin works in the day like you.

You hardly even see Rufioh, but he occupies half your room and that's plenty enough to make you sadder every night.

Days pass and you barely speak to anyone. Meenah taunts you constantly, worse than she ever has before. You can barely suppress your anger and resentment, but you manage it. You don't want to make things harder on anyone by getting angry.

Finally, the day the Underground comes home arrives. Your day at the market seems to last forever, and your friends' nerves aren't making it easier. Kankri's obviously on edge; you're not sure why, though. So are Meulin, and Terezi. You have no particular job at home, because all you do is really clean up and sometimes run errands. So you're left to keep an eye on the door and worry.

And worry you do, until the four from Ampora castle arrive. Cronus first, Tavros following a moment later. You wonder where the other two are, until Eridan walks in, carrying your sister. He sets her on the couch, his face completely white. Tavros taps you on the shoulder and you turn, tears welling up in your eyes. She's not dead, she can't be dead. It's impossible. Tavros's legs are completely mangled and you wonder how he made it here. He opens his mouth, but he can't seem to say anything. You turn to Cronus, who you know better than Eridan, and he just says, "There were these wolves…barely got out alive."

You shake your head. You can't speak. You think about your options. You could go back in time to save her, but that would create an endless loop of impossibility (you've taken to the word paradox for that) and you can't create one of those. You could freeze time and talk to her, but she's dead and freezing time won't help anything.

"Get Aranea," you manage to say. Someone nods and leaves and you wish someone cared about you enough to stay here next to you, but they don't. You had only your sister and your love and now you love doesn't care and your sister is dead.

Not dead. Not yet. You won't accept it.

Aranea and Kanaya rush in. They prop Aradia up between them and Aranea examines her. "Severe wounds to the limbs…definitely some internal injuries…possible head trauma…I'm not sure there's anything we can do, Damara."

"You can't just let her die!" you scream, then clamp your hands over your mouth. "I-I'm sorry…"

"It's okay," Aranea brushes off, focusing on her work. She and Kanaya clearly need to be left alone. But you can't leave, not when your sister is near dead like this.

"Kanaya, check her head," Aranea orders. Kanaya nods and moves your sister's waist-length hair around, checking for bruises.

"Right side near the temple," Kanaya says. "Likely the cause of unconsciousness."

"That or pain," Aranea says.

Kanaya nods in agreement. "Can't do anything about that. You?"

Aranea shakes her head.

"Isn't there anything you can do?" you plead.

"We'll do our best," Kanaya says. "You can do ahead and join the meeting."

"But…" you start to say, but she's right. You stand and head to the other room, where Kankri is serving dinner. You sit in one of the last empty chairs, trying to shrink so no one can see you. You don't want anyone to ever see you again.

Aranea and Kanaya walk in a few minutes later without your sister. They wear tired looks and they take two of three remaining seats. There is only one reason they wouldn't have your sister with them, only one reason they would leave her in that condition.

You bite back a scream and start hyperventilating. Your sister was just sixteen! She had everything, a whole forty or maybe fifty years left for her to live! It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair! You cover your nose and mouth with your hands, fingertips digging into your skin, and close your eyes tightly so no tears can fall out.

The meeting hasn't started yet; it's still dinner. Meenah is right across from you and she's giving you this sort of look like you're just an easy target. She opens her mouth to speak and you brace yourself once more.

"Poor little Damara, what's gone wrong now."

You can't speak, you can't even open your mouth. It's impossible.

"Love of your life left for another man?"

"Stop—" you try, but you can't continue.

"You know he'll never love you, right? You know he'll never love you back? You're pathetic, still pining after him like that! And crying? Wow."

Tears catch in you throat and your sobs hurt like hell, hurt worse than the cuts from the thorns that you ran through escaping home that got infected and did not heal fully for a month.

"Crybaby!" Meenah taunts. "Poor little Damara!"

Why won't she just leave you alone? Your sister is dead. Your love is a hopelessly lost cause. Your friends hate you. Your parents think you're dead. You have nothing left.

And you're angry. What have you ever done to deserve this? You've always been resentful of being ignored, but you've never hurt anyone. Your parents never loved you, your love never loved you, your friends never cared, and your sister died before you. You haven't done anything to deserve all this.

Blinding rage and despair and something that might be insanity fill your mind and you black out.

You come to at the edge of a cliff. Memories shoot like fever dreams through your mind. What have you done? What have you done?

The images can't be real. It's impossible. But you open your mouth and English won't come out, and you examine your hands and they are scarred and slashed where they shouldn't be. There is a long bread knife tucked into your belt and you panic. You rip the cursed, blood-coated thing out and hurl it over the edge of the cliff as hard as you can. It lands with a clang.

From your place on this cliff, you can see where the sky and the sea meet. The sun is just beginning to set and the blue is tinted with apple reds and daffodil yellows. The flowers growing in the lush forest around you are deep burgundy and you think how much your sister would like them before you remember she's dead, she's dead, everyone and everything is dead. You pick one flower and wonder if it's poisonous. You don't know for sure, but you shove it down your throat for good measure.

Your plan is obvious to you, the same way all of time was obvious to your little sister. Your feet are hard to move, but you manage it. One foot in front of the other. One step, solid ground. Two steps, crumbling dirt. Three steps, sliding gravel. Four steps, nothing at all.

A/N: Gentle reminder that Damara was described as "meek as can be" before she snapped.