AN: Very minor allusion to suicidal ideation

Bones poked through the dirt like flowers blooming in the spring. The eerie, unnatural white of the bones contrasted sharply with the familiar, earthy, black of the soil. A tailbone pushed its way to freedom, followed by a rib right beneath it. Sonorhc sat cross-legged before the little "grave", trying to entertain herself. She beckoned for the bones to rise higher and higher, more and more patches of white disrupting the darkened ground. Slowly, the bones coalesced into a small pile before the Necromage.

"Mood," she told the lazy, lifeless, disorganized heap. Then she raised a hand again. "All right, come on, time to get up. I don't like it either, but I'm bored and need someone to talk to."

It any of her fellow mage friends could've heard her, they would've demanded to know if she thought they were chopped liver.

She would've smirked and nodded and said, "Why do you think I'm going to the bones? I'd rather talk to them than chopped livers!"

Her lips twitched and a soft huff of laughter escaped her as she thought back to the last time she "brought back" a literal, actual chopped liver. It was commonplace for Necromages to practice resurrection utilizing similar methods. Chopped liver, in particular, could provide a challenge because of how little it resembled its old, biotic form. This, however, was not the incident Sonorhc was thinking of.

It was a fancy dinner for some of the best mages in town, but those who worked with darker arts weren't always welcomed warmly. No one said anything, Sonorhc could sense disgust, disapproval, fear, wariness, uncertainty, and much more, all of it negative and distrustful. Fed up with the passive aggression, she decided to resurrect every item on the menu and every ingredient in the kitchen.

Vegetables sprouted and grew, meat chunks tried to coalesce into something vaguely resembling what they used to be, and the seafood was some of the most interesting and amusing because it looked exactly the way it did the first time it was alive. Bones were easier to work with than meat (especially ground or cooked), hence why the Necromage had summoned a skeleton, but nothing else. As she continued to move her hands this way and that, the bones followed her gestures and slowly reassembled.

When Sonorhc was finally free to sit back and enjoy the fruit of her labor, the pile of bones had transformed into a little dog. It wagged its bony tail at her so furiously that the bones on the very end kept flicking up and down as the dog's tail swished side to side. If not for the large, round bone holding the tail onto the rest of the dog, Sonorhc was sure every tailbone would've gone flying in every direction.

"Awww, what a little cutie," Sonorhc sighed, cooing as she tilted her head. For the first time in… far too long, and longer than she could remember, she felt… touched, happy, humbled. The little bony dog trotted closer to her, already trying to sniff her and crawl in her lap. It was every bit as eager as a real dog to see her, and Sonorhc was overwhelmed with embarrassment when she suddenly realized that there were tears building up in her eyes. That sweet little dog was just so happy to see her, already adopting her as its mama.

"Wait, that's right, I still have to give you vocal cords," the Necromage mumbled, distracting herself through intellectualization. She held a hand out towards the dog's "throat", trying to envision layers of tissues, muscles, fat, and even organs slowly growing around the bones of the dog's neck. Like moss on a tree. I know the moss doesn't grow FROM the tree, but if it did, coming straight out of the bark itself…

"Arf! Arf!" Speaking of barking, Sonorhc was finished. The dog looked comical, a random patch of skin now wrapped around its neck like a brace, but as evidenced by its ability to bark, Sonorhc brought back all the vital pieces.

I mean, I guess I COULD have just sensed what the dog was conveying, but, I wanted to actually hear it bark…

Again, her friends would question why she didn't just come to them if she wanted someone to talk back to her, but as the saying went, dead men told no tales. A skeletal dog was a safer confidante than a living, breathing human being that she could not dismiss to a grave at will.

The dog was still wagging its tail, but its eye sockets gazed in Sonorhc's eyes as if waiting for her to speak.

"It's just…" she sighed. "I don't even know anymore… It is getting better? Worse? I have no idea. Sometimes, everything is perfectly fine! But others, I just…" Hate. Hate. Hate. The words, thoughts, and feelings, everything Sonorhc had associated with that concept, rattled around her skull.

That's why I can't tell them. Not even other Necromages. They'd worry too much.

One would've assumed that Necromages were better suited for topics that could drift into mortality, such as poor mental health even to the point of suicidal ideation, but that was just a stereotype. Any person found such topics difficult to face, especially if it revolved around a loved one.

The irony, I may have had a better chance of getting help if I wasn't so close to them. But relationships aside, the ability to work with the dead did not mean that one knew how to work with the dying.

But I'm not even dying! She may not have felt the most alive, or lively, but technically, there was no danger. "The only enemy… is this," she told the dog, tapping the side of her head. This stupid, stupid thing of mine. It's like a ghost. It can't actually kill me, but it sure drains the life out of a me… And yet, it's not even real! It doesn't even bother me most days! So why…?

And that led them right back to the original question. Was Sonorhc getting better or worse? It was hard to tell. The Necromage couldn't help but sigh in despair. Why couldn't the world be black and white just once? But as her very existence showed, even life and death were gray.

Wonder when it'll be my turn to join the ones on the other side, and if I'll be just as miserable there as I am on this side of the green grass.

Wonder why I can't stop thinking about it… Why can't I be more grateful for what I already have? Should I be concerned? Do I need help?

Or is this just what happens when you have to think about death all the time? Or am I making it worse for myself, indulging in these thoughts? Is that wrong? How am I supposed to change how often I think about death when I'm a freaking Necromage?!

It wasn't as easy as positive thinking, and it was hard to determine the exact cause of her most recent influx of morbid thoughts.

"Arf! Arf!" Sonorhc had unwittingly stopped petting her canine corpse companion and it was more than happy to let her know.

"Oh, right, buddy, sorry… I know I brought you out just so I could talk to you, but I guess I'm so used to not really talking to anyone that I wind up drifting off into my thoughts even when you're right in my lap!"

The dog pawed at her, as if trying to get even closer to her. She couldn't tell if the dog was forgiving her, or demanding that she make up for he neglect and give it even more headpats and belly-rubs than normal. Once again, a smile managed to reach Sonorhc's face. She was more than happy to oblige. Truly, a loving dog, fleshy or skeletal, was the best form of care for anyone.

Ow. Ow. Ow. Sonorhc's thoughts were as rhythmic and steady and the dog's bony tail thwacking against her side. By the end of it, her arm was bruised, but her heart was full. If she took a closer look, she would notice that the bruise was shaped like a semicolon.

AN: I know the semicolon isn't queer-exclusive, but there's a lot of overlap between queer folks and things like mental health concerns up to the point of suicidal ideation/action.

As fun and happy and gay and glittery as Pride is, it would be a HUGE misrepresentation to say that sadness isn't also a large part of the community and its history. If anything, I regret not having more angsty fics this anthology.

Anyway, yes, Sonorhc's another OC of mine and she's basically my teen angst LOL! And I admit, the symbol might be harder to see in the fic because it was shown through description rather than outright statement (at least until the end), but I'll say that there are two other times in this chapter where something is descried and, if you read it correctly, you'll realize it's shaped like a semicolon.