'It's been a long day for all of them.'
Chapter Fifteen: Aftermath
The kids were asleep. Finally.
It had taken a while to convince them to actually rest; Brain had insisted on setting up spell after spell, though what those spells were, Meili couldn't quite tell. Both he and Skuld had stayed stubbornly awake even after that; occasionally, Meili caught arguments from them about who should take watch, but in the end neither had really been able to stay awake. They'd fallen asleep against each other; Meili was vaguely worried they would fall over, but they were even more worried trying to move them would wake them up, so they'd left them where they were.
Kvasir had fallen asleep the quickest; even so, he'd still looked unusually shaken, smile forced as he spilled the whole sordid story. He was on the couch, blanket tugged around his shoulders.
Mimir was the only one who wasn't asleep; they cupped a mug, blanket over their shoulders, staring blankly down at it. They'd dragged a chair closer to the others, huddled on it like it would give them a better look at the rest of them.
Kids. They were kids. Not young kids, maybe, but kids all the same. Obnoxious and stubborn and frustrating, and half the time Meili didn't really want to deal with them, but—but damn it, they didn't want them to have to deal with this alone, either.
"Changing your mind about having kids yet?"
And one of their partners was awake, apparently. Great. "No. If anything, it's doing the opposite."
Bridget chuckled quietly. "You're going to break Eric's heart."
Meili groaned. "If he tries to adopt them, I'm going to remind him that two are full-fledged council members, and the other two are at least part of the Exploration Department."
A chair pulled closer to theirs. "You can't guard them all night. I think all of them know more about fighting than you."
And that was half the problem, wasn't it? Children, they thought, staring at the two Union Leaders, and an ugly, angry thing curled through their chest. "It's blueblood nonsense. Again. Because of course it fucking is."
Bridget stiffened.
"They can't just—" They clamped their mouth shut around what they wanted to say. Talking about "their family" generally just caused them to spiral, digging themself into a deeper and deeper hole of self-depreciation and anger.
"You aren't responsible for the way the rest of your family acts."
"They aren't my family." And they didn't want to talk about this, so they cast about for something else to say.
Bridget, thankfully, seemed to catch on. "You're being watched."
So they were. Mimir was staring at the two of them with a complicated sort of expression, hands too tight around their mug.
"You look a little like you've seen a ghost," Meili said, and tried to place where they'd seen that sort of look before.
Mimir started, nearly dropping their mug. They gave them a guilty look, then ducked their head behind the mug. "It's…familiar," they whispered, their voice raw.
"What is?"
"You."
"…You're going to have to be more specific."
Mimir made a frustrated noise. They gestured at him and Bridget, then back towards the bed, where Eric was still asleep.
Oh. "You have partners?"
Mimir shook their head. "It's—" They broke off, expression twisting with frustration. They set their mug carefully beside their chair, lifting their hands to sign, then stopped.
Meili tried not to feel too guilty about that. Skuld's not awake to translate. Guess I should probably actually learn, at some point. They guessed they had time; they weren't going to get much sleep tonight, anyways, and it was better than worrying. They pulled their chair closer to Mimir, ignoring Bridget's knowing look. "You're going to have to guide me through it."
Mimir's face went through a serious of emotions that Meili couldn't quite decipher, but they thought it landed on gratitude. After a hesitant moment they lifted their hands and signed slowly, spoken words just as careful. "It's not…the same way you feel, I don't think." They paused, expression pinched. "Or maybe it was. I don't know. It's…complicated."
Meili mimed their movements carefully, letting Mimir correct them when they got something wrong. "Other students, I'm guessing?"
"No. Just emotions. Memories of emotions. It's…blurry." They paused their signing to run a frustrated hand through their hair. Their eyes flicked towards the Union Leaders, and then their head jerked sharply to the side, eyes wet, tugging the blanket a little closer. "I miss them, but I don't even really remember them. How can I miss people I can't remember?"
Meili didn't really have the same exact experience—but they had one that was close enough they thought it would work. "You can miss something you didn't get to have."
Bridget's hand landed on their shoulder, and they tried not to start; they hadn't realized she'd come closer. They waved her off; they were pretty sure if they tried to talk about it with anyone else listening to close, they'd clam up. Easier if they could pretend that it was just them, talking things out with themself like they did when they were younger.
Bridget gave them a tiny smile and left, and Meili stared at their hands, cupped by much smaller ones. They're a fucking child, they thought, and the anger at it was probably what forced them onwards. "So you may have heard, but I'm an illegitimate blueblood. Not sure exactly who fucked around; for most of my life, I didn't care to find out. I didn't matter; they weren't there. But…my mother would talk about them, sometimes. Dumb stuff, mostly. Like the fact that they liked the worst puns, or that they loved the smell of rain, or that they'd make my mother things and slip them to her when she was having a bad day.
"There's a strange sort of grief, in mourning someone whose name you don't even know. I never really wanted to find them, but hearing my mom talk about them—it's hard not to wonder, 'What could you have been to me? Would you make me things when I was sad? Would we have played in the rain together?' And you just kind of have to sit with the 'what-ifs,' because there's no real way to know."
Meili…wasn't sure they were cut out for this. They hadn't wanted children for many, many reasons, not the least of which was that they had no idea how to parent a child. It felt like they were just rambling, spilling out words that'd do more harm than good.
"Look, I guess—fuck, I don't know what I'm saying. You can miss the idea of something, I guess. You don't need to remember people fully for that."
Mimir nodded; they stayed remarkably put together for a few moments, their eyes brimming silently. It cracked after a second, lips twisting and eyes scrunching, breath hitching as they tried to fix their expression. They broke completely then, exhaling a ragged sob, then trying to choke it back, hand pressed against their mouth.
"That's—alright. Okay. Didn't mean to make you—fuck." Their hands moved to hover awkwardly near Mimir's shoulders, their chair clattering a little as they stood, and they cursed themself quietly and hoped they hadn't woken anyone up. (Except, maybe, for Eric, or that they'd made enough noise for Bridget to come back, or something, because they didn't know what they were supposed to do with a crying child.)
A weight landed on their chest, arms squeezing their waist, and it took a moment for them to really process what was happening. A hug—Mimir was hugging them, tears getting their shirt wet, body shaking with muffled sobs.
Meili stood frozen, held awkwardly, a distant, irrational part of them worried the kid would break if they moved. They already broke, they reminded themself irritably, and convinced their reluctant arms to hug them back. It was awkward, and not exactly comforting, and they should've had anyone else—but they guessed all they had was them.
…That's what all of them had, they realized. Skuld and Brain's families were probably long dead, their friends scattered; Kvasir's family was their extended family, and they knew exactly what they were like; and they had no idea what Mimir's family situation was, but it couldn't be great if they were here. And friends—they weren't sure that any of them had much of the way in friends, besides each other.
Meili breathed out slowly, and with the next inhale came anger. It says a lot that I'm the one they have to go to, they thought. But, they supposed, at least they had someone.
(They thought of their own teen years and early adulthood, angry and hurt and trying to claw their way towards something when their relationship with their mother got increasingly strained; they thought of finding out they were apparently a blueblood, and thinking revealing that would solve everything; they thought about their mom backing them up, even though she clearly hadn't wanted to have her secret revealed, and about the fact that they'd regretted not apologizing right up until the day she died.
They thought about a lot of things, but they thought about how much worse it would've been if they'd had no one—not their partners, not their mom, not anyone.)
Meili's hug tightened a little. Alright. Okay. Enough's enough; we're going to figure this out.
-For the first time in a while, Skuld dreamed of the Keyblade War.
It felt like the memory of the Keyblade War had been drowned underneath the end of the world, the fall of Daybreak Town and loss of her friends a much more present horror. But going back to the battlefield felt like it had changed something irrevocably inside her, even more than the loss of Daybreak Town had; it lived inside of her, stretched across her heart like scar tissue. She should've known it was never really gone.
Ephemer was by her side again, as much a ghost as any of the wielders on the battlefield, but she couldn't pay attention to him; she had to keep moving, keep fighting, keep searching, because if she stopped she'd be dead.
Where are they?
When they'd come back, she didn't think either of them had really considered the impossibility of what they were doing. It hadn't mattered; they'd had to find their friend, and so they would, even if it meant leaving others to die.
(Even if it meant killing, some part of her could quietly acknowledge, because for as much as they'd tried to avoid it, they couldn't afford to be too careful when their lives were on the line—when their friend's life was on the line.)
"You chose me over them."
Skuld skidded to a stop. She knew that voice, but— "Where are you?"
A flash of metal. Starlight lifted to parry with a heavy clang.
"You chose me, over thousands of others. And look where it got you."
Another clang; her arm vibrated with the impact.
"I was supposed to die here, you know. But you and Ephemer had to try and change fate. If you hadn't—would it have saved you heartbreak later?"
The shadows were getting longer—and suddenly, they were there, looming in front of her with that same look they'd had in the lifeboat chamber.
"You should know better. Anomalies will always correct themselves, eventually."
Skuld jerked, and was startled when she lacked the weight of a Keyblade in her hands. Her fingers curled into something soft, squeezing; her chest constricted, heart beating too fast, breathing too hard, ears still ringing, blinking away flashes of a dusty battlefield.
"Skuld. Skuld, hey."
It took a moment for the voice to break through the ringing. Brain. He was staring at her, closer than she expected, expression twisted. It took her a moment to realize that what she'd been squeezing was his arm, and she released it like it burned.
She was—she wasn't in the Keyblade War. They were—
"We're at Meili's," Brain said gently, and she hated that her first response to that was anger, so she pressed her forehead to his shoulder and tried to steady her breathing and hoped he couldn't see. (She wasn't even sure what she was angry at, at this point. The fact that she had to be told where they were? That they had to be here in the first place? That it felt like no matter what they did, something always had to go wrong?)
"Is your arm okay?" she asked, because that was easier to focus on, and she really hadn't meant to hurt him.
"Not any worse than what I already had." She tensed a little, but deflated when Brain poked her lightly. "It's alright. Really."
She wasn't sure if she believed him, and she was, apparently, angry at that too, and then she was upset that she was angry at all, and—and she just wanted to go back to sleep, where she didn't have to think about this.
(But it felt like she couldn't. Her nightmares were waiting for her there, and—and there could be worse here. She couldn't believe she'd fallen asleep at all.)
Skuld's breath hissed out between her teeth, and she counted slowly, repeating it over and over until the turmoil had burned itself down to a low simmer. "I hate this," she whispered.
Brain didn't say anything; he just breathed out a shaky breath, like all the fight had been drained from him.
Skuld took a deep breath, and then another, and then she forced herself to lift her head and actually look around.
The windows were still dark—still deep into night, then, and she thought it should make her feel better that at least she hadn't slept very long, but instead it made pinpricks of unease trickle down her arms. Kvasir was curled up on Meili's couch, face pinched like he was having a bad dream. Mimir, to her surprise, was leaning against a still-awake Meili; they looked like they'd fallen asleep in a hug, head pressed awkwardly against Meili's chest, arms drooping down to their sides.
Meili looked somewhere between embarrassed and irritated; their eyes were focused on Skuld already, and when they noticed her looking they hissed, "Not. A. Word."
It tugged her lips into a tiny smile that only lasted a moment. They were only here because of her bad decisions, after all, and she tasted bile as she looked away. "I guess you can say, 'I told you so,'" she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Meili flinched. "Shit. Kid, I didn't mean it like that—"
"Sure."
Brain shifted a little, wincing; Skuld's spell must not have healed all of his wounds, despite her panic in casting it. There was a part of her that was still mad at him—mad for going without telling her, mad that he'd started a fight and gotten himself injured—but. She didn't really want to be mad at him anymore. It didn't feel like it served much of a purpose, to rehash what they'd already talked about. She slumped against his side, hopping it would smother the anger out of her.
It didn't. Not entirely. She was starting to wonder if it would ever leave.
They sat there in silence a few moments, the three of them, and it took Skuld a second to realize Brain was scanning the room, eyes narrowed in curiosity more than wariness. "What are you looking for?"
He pursed his lips, looking like he was debating with himself. "Noth—" And then he glanced at her, and he sighed, his shoulders sinking with the motion. "Chirithy."
She straightened. "Your Chirithy's still here?"
Brain was shaking his head before she'd even finished. "Not mine. Yours."
And that—that didn't make sense. "I haven't seen mine since I got here," she said. "I thought…" She thought they were gone. Like the rest of her friends.
But they weren't. And Brain knew.
(Just one more thing he didn't tell you.)
"Why didn't you…?" She didn't know why that one hurt so much more. Maybe it was that keeping it from her was insignificant; with everything else, she'd understood, even if it hurt. But there was no reason to keep this from her, really.
Brain wouldn't quite look at her. "Thought they'd tell you themself. Or that you'd call for them. I just…didn't think about it."
"You should've," she said before she could stop herself. She exhaled slowly, but her hands were shaking now, and she was worried if she stayed here she might say something she regretted. "Meili."
They raised an eyebrow.
"Is there anywhere I can go to be alone for a while?"
Meili studied her a few moments, then jerked a thumb behind them. "Bathroom."
She dipped her head, then stood stiffly and left. She pointedly didn't look back.
Only once the door was closed did she feel something in her give, her shaking legs giving out beneath her and letting her slide to the floor. "Chirithy?" she asked hesitantly, and half-expected not to get an answer.
She almost broke down crying with relief when she did, the little Spirit popping into existence and landing with a slight stumble on the bathroom floor. Their ears twitched, head bowed sheepishly. "Hey, Skuld."
Delicately, she reached for them; her hands were still shaking as she lifted them, a part of her not quite daring to believe they were here.
Chirithy's eyes rounded in worry when she didn't say anything. "Are you okay?"
She sucked in a shuddering breath, then hugged them to her tightly. They made a startled noise, then tried to hug her back, little paws curling into her shirt. They didn't protest when Skuld started crying, tears soaking into their fur.
(They were one more piece of home. Someone else that got to come with her, even if they'd had to leave everyone else behind.)
"You look good," Chirithy said, when her crying had calmed a little. "I like the outfit."
Skuld laughed, shaky and wet. "I guess I look different, huh?"
"Yeah, but that's not a bad thing. Change can be good, too!"
It didn't feel like it was a very good thing right now. The reminder sobered her a little, and she carefully settled Chirithy on her knees.
Their ears perked, head titled curiously.
"Chirithy," she said, careful, "why didn't you tell me you were here, before?"
They fidgeted a little, suddenly not quite able to look at her. "I wanted you to call me," they murmured. "I wanted to wait until you were ready."
And—she hadn't tried to call them, had she? She'd just assumed they were lost; she hadn't seen Brain's, after all.
Which— "Brain knew you were here."
"He saw me one night. I was trying to help you with your nightmares."
That explained why Brain was looking for them, then. "Why weren't you here tonight?"
Chirithy ducked their head, and when they spoke, they sounded sheepish, "I didn't…really know anyone besides you and Brain."
Skuld breathed out a quiet, exhausted laugh. It dimmed after a moment, leaving behind just a hollow, drained feeling in her chest. "You should have told me," she said, but there wasn't any real anger there; if anything, it had been redirected back at herself. So she sucked in a breath, hugged them again, and whispered, "But I'm glad you're here."
-Being left alone with Meili was…awkward. Brain stared resolutely at the bathroom door, like maybe if he watched it hard enough Skuld would come back out and make the situation less tense. So, what, she can yell at you again? some part of him asked, and he brushed it away irritably. It's deserved at this point.
But it did mean he was left alone in a room with people he didn't really know—one of which was staring at him like they were trying to see through him. "Guessing you're still up because of them?" he asked finally, nodding towards Mimir.
"I'm 'still up' because of all of you," Meili answered. And then: "I'm guessing Skuld's not the only one who had nightmares."
His face felt hot, and he tugged his hat a little lower, like it could hide his embarrassment. It wasn't like he could remember them; mostly just flashes of fear and guilt that had him startling awake. He'd tried to stay quiet; tried not to move, once he realized Skuld was sleeping against him. He'd hoped Meili hadn't noticed.
He guessed he'd hoped wrong.
Meili sighed, long and loud. "So. Are you going to fill me in on what's going on, or am I going to have to take a guess?"
"Don't really think it's any of your business."
"If you're under my roof, it is." They winced, then sighed, seeming to make an attempt to soften their voice. "Look, just answer me this: is it going to cause problems?"
Brain turned back to the bathroom door. "No," he said, because things with Skuld, at least, he could probably work out.
…It was the rest of it that could be a problem.
(The boy who tried to change fate.)
Brain clasped his hands together, breathing slowly, in and out. He half wanted to start up a conversation with Meili again, if only so he didn't have to sit with his own thoughts, but he didn't know what he'd say.
(If you keep going, maybe you can outrun the guilt.)
"Any advice about the bluebloods?"
The words spilled out before he could stop them, half frantic. A nail picked at his skin, and he forced himself to stop, twisting one of his bracelets instead.
"That's tomorrow's problem, kid."
"Doesn't hurt to get ahead of things."
Meili sighed, like they knew this was going to be a long, frustrating argument and were resigning themself to the inevitable. "Look. You've already had a hell of a day. You've set up enough spells that nothing's going to get you in here. Take a breather so you don't burn yourself out."
"We don't—"
The bathroom door creaked open.
Brain's mouth snapped shut.
Skuld stood in the doorway, eyes red-rimmed, Chirithy clutched to her chest.
Meili glanced at her and did a double-take. "…What is that."
"I'm Chirithy!" the Dream Eater answered helpfully.
"…Alright. That explained nothing."
Skuld's lips twitched, like she was fighting a smile.
Brain swallowed tightly, then lowered his head, stuffing down the strange mixture of grief and anger. (Being angry now didn't feel fair, but—if she'd just called them—)
(He'd been looking for his Chirithy since he got here.)
"Brain."
Skuld didn't sound angry anymore. Just…tired.
Brain lifted his head slowly, raising an eyebrow.
Skuld hesitated, glancing uncertainly at Meili. "Can you…?"
Meili rolled their eyes. "I'm not going to eavesdrop if you don't want to squeeze yourselves into the bathroom," they said, but they didn't try to stop them either.
A vague nervousness twisted Brain's stomach—but mostly, he just felt tired. He stood, following Skuld, and the door shut behind him with a click.
The bathroom wasn't exactly huge. The whole place was smaller than what Brain would've expected for a council member, let alone a blueblood. He found himself standing too close to the door, standing awkwardly, Skuld in the awkward space between the tub and sink.
The silence was…awkward. Skuld opened her mouth like she wanted to say something, but her expression fractured, and she exhaled with a shaky sigh, slumping onto the edge of the tub.
Brain huffed a laugh he didn't feel. "Yeah. Guess that about sums it up." His back hit the door, and slid into a sitting position, dragged down by his own exhaustion.
Chirithy squirmed out of Skuld's arms; they glanced at her, and she gave them a tiny nod. Brain watched as they disappeared into smoke, staring perhaps a little too long.
Skuld noticed. "Where's your Chirithy?"
Brain shrugged, and tried to keep his voice level. "Probably gone."
"Why do you say that?"
"Been calling. They haven't come." He tilted his head back, breathing out slowly. "What do you actually want to talk about, Skuld?"
Skuld didn't speak for a few moments; when she did, her voice came out clipped and practical: "We need to—figure out what we're actually going to do. About everything."
Right. Darkness, and an assassination attempt, apparently. The things Meili thought could wait until 'tomorrow.'
"At least about—about going back to the council. That can't wait until morning."
Brain snorted, and felt the phantom sting of wounds already healed. "Guess they'd probably be happy to get rid of us, too, if the option's on the table."
Skuld's expression twisted, and he thought that was probably the wrong thing to say, but he didn't know how to take it back, now that the words were out.
Brain would be…happier not to go back, he thought. Happier not to have to deal with political maneuverings that exasperated him. But he was pretty sure that so long as he stayed in Scala, nobody would ever actually let him.
(He thought of Sigurd, and something bitter curled in his chest. He wondered what the man would report to Frigga; he wondered if anyone had actually healed his injuries. He wondered if maybe he'd had a point, and then wished he hadn't thought about it at all.)
"We could leave," he said, and the longing came on so strongly it surprised him. He wanted to go…anywhere else. Not worry about Darkness. Defuse whatever power struggle the bluebloods thought was going on between their two groups. Maybe they didn't have a lead for where they could find the others, but it felt like a small price to pay, when the cost of staying seemed to keep getting steeper.
"We can't," Skuld said, voice hard, and it's what he'd expected but for some reason he felt disappointed, anyways. (You wouldn't be able to bring yourself to leave, either, some part of him whispered. Not when you've seen what Darkness can do.) And then, Skuld continued, quiet, "I'm supposed to be training with Frigga. I was going to tell you that, earlier."
It stoked a bone-deep fear, something nervous ticking against his ribcage, and he closed his eyes and breathed slowly and tried to crush it down. "Does that mean your talk went good or bad?"
"She's not going to spy on us anymore."
Guilt, then, but that had become an almost constant companion, lingering beside him like a ghost.
"She was the one who mentioned the problem with the bluebloods," Skuld said. "I was going to tell you before I left."
"To go speak with Kvasir's uncle." Brain swallowed, and no matter how hard he tried to phrase it like an honest question, he couldn't quite keep the frustration out of his voice: "Why'd you go looking?"
"Why'd you go to the abandoned town?" Skuld countered, and there was something sharply defensive in her voice. "There was something strange going on, and I wanted to know what."
"Guess Ephemer rubbed off on you."
He didn't know what he meant it as—a failed attempt at a joke, an observation, or what—but Skuld went very quiet and still, suddenly. When she spoke, it was to whisper, raw and painful, "I wish he was here."
He didn't expect the words to hit as hard as they did. They made his stomach twist, something bitter and painful burning behind his ribcage. "Yeah. Guess he'd probably know what to do." Brain blinked rapidly, ignoring the way his eyes stung. "I was going to stay behind originally, you know."
He could feel Skuld staring at him. "What?"
"Someone needed to get the Dandelions out. I figured I was the best bet." He shrugged, and laughed, something bitter in it. "Miscalculated that, too. Turns out once the data world goes to sleep, it can't be woken up again. Luxu was happy to inform me about that."
"Luxu…?"
"He's the reason I got here." He rubbed his chest absently, phantom pains splintering across his ribcage. "I didn't take a lifeboat." His breath shook a little, but his voice stayed remarkably level as he continued, "I let him convince me because there was a chance I'd see you guys again—but maybe I shouldn't have. If I'd stayed behind—"
"Wait—Brain—"
"—then maybe Ephemer would've been here instead." His fists clenched. (Wouldn't it be better if someone more capable was here?) "He built Scala; could probably do a better job at fixing things than me."
"Brain, I didn't mean—"
"Be a lot less frustrating for you, I'm sure. The council, too, probably. And maybe I could've actually done something—"
"Stop."
He hadn't even realized Skuld had moved until she was right in front of him, gripping his hands hard enough to hurt. It forced him into silence, jaw clicking shut around frustrated words.
"I didn't mean I wanted him here instead of you," Skuld said, and there was something in her expression he couldn't place. "I just…miss him."
Brain couldn't quite look at her. "He was your best friend. Can't blame you for that."
Skuld shifted after a moment, shoulder pressing against his. "You were really going to stay behind?"
He kind of regretted admitting to it. "Well," he said, and he could hear the bitterness in his voice, "I figured it was better to just have all the cards on the table."
"And you didn't think anyone would've tried to stay behind with you?"
"Lauriam didn't."
"Did you tell him?"
He didn't, but that wasn't the point. "Safer for just one person to stay behind. Thought I could convince you guys to leave."
"Then I guess you didn't know us very well."
Brain tried not to wince. "Guess so."
They stayed silent, pressed shoulder to shoulder, and Brain closed his eyes and tried to ignore the way it felt like the shadows were creeping up on them. "Sorry for bringing Ephemer up," he said, because he needed something to break the silence. "And for—not telling you. About everything."
Skuld didn't say anything to that at first; when she spoke, she whispered, "I just wanted to feel like I was in control of something."
Brain cast her a sideways look at the seeming non-sequitur.
"The bluebloods. I thought if I just—I'm so tired of feeling like we're always too steps behind everyone else and—I thought if I knew more about what was going on maybe we could use it."
And it was hard to be mad at her for that, really, when he'd been so tired of having things kept from him. "You never really said anything about the assassination attempt."
"You didn't say anything about Darkness," Skuld countered, but there was fear there, sharp and deep. She took a shaky breath, burrowing closer to him. "I don't—it's still—" She broke off, words all jagged edges, and—Brain understood that. He didn't think he was ready to talk about things, either.
(You cannot ignore your ugly parts. They are a part of you; you cannot run far enough to escape them.)
"...You're still going back tomorrow, aren't you."
It wasn't really a question; he could tell from the stubborn set of her jaw, the way her mind already seemed halfway to decided, like she'd just been looking for someone to nudge her into committing to it.
After a beat Skuld nodded, fists clenched hard enough to turn her knuckles white. "I don't want to be afraid," she said. "Not here. Not in the place Ephemer built."
Brain would be lying if he said he wasn't terrified, but he pushed his fear down and turned, holding his hands, palms up, towards his friend. "Still got that charm?"
Skuld's eyebrows furrowed, but she produced it, placing it carefully in Brain's waiting hands.
Brain's magic still felt drained, the exhaustion dragging down his limbs, but he thought that maybe he could cast a small protection charm on it, at least. "I'll probably have to work on something stronger later," he said, and he didn't look at Skuld's face but he could see her start as she seemed to realize what he was doing, "but for now, this should at least hel—"
He started when arms wrapped around him, nearly dropping the charm in surprise. He breathed out slowly, shaky adrenaline going out with it, mind slowly processing the hug.
"Thank you," Skuld whispered, the words muffled by his jacket.
Brain swallowed tightly. "Well. Figure you need some sort of edge, if they aren't going to play fair." He gripped the charm tightly, the points digging into his palms.
"…Can you include something to help me find you?"
He caught the half-joking lilt to her voice, and huffed a quiet laugh. "You'll have to talk to Mimir about that. I'm not the one with heart magic." And he'd probably have to talk to Mimir too, at some point; if Darkness was around, then they needed to get that Heartless detection device figured out sooner rather than later.
(Oh, how much better would things have been, if someone more worthy had ended up here instead of you?)
Skuld released him after a moment. He wanted to say something—something that would sound reassuring, maybe, or some half-hearted attempt at a joke, or—anything, but the words slipped away. Skuld didn't press him, silent as she watched him work, and he supposed that both of them just being here would have to be enough for now.
So I'm sure there are lots of other writers who've been writing something, and then a character will say/do/etc. something, and it's just like, "What do you MEAN? Why didn't you tell me that EARLIER?" That was me with Meili in the beginning of this chapter.
Anyway, a much more low-key chapter to give everyone (characters, readers, and author) a chance to breathe. The cast are dealing with some messy emotions, and…well, they needed to at least work them out a LITTLE bit.
