I promise, there's a light somewhere at the end of this daggone tunnel. I always have a method to my madness.
With that said, TW for everything related to unaliving.
Her mind floated in weightless suspension. Submerged beneath black waters, swirling abyss around her. Shrouded in darkness, dragging her down. No…she needed to wake up. Her goddaughter was in danger. She had to wake up.
Waned consciousness thrashed with all its might, pushing arms and legs to their limits. Battling against the strongest waves fighting to keep her under. She kept pushing forward, didn't give up. Hazel needed her. She had to wake up!
Wake up…wake up!
The little red mouse jolted upright, lungs inhaling air as if for the first time. Awakening to the muted hue along the white lace of a cerise duvet, the moon's soft glow peering through pink sheer curtains. A sharp pinch in neck reminded where the needle had struck, tingling down through her paws and tail. In spite of her skull spinning, she scanned the room for her goddaughter. What she found roiled bile in her queasy stomach.
Jeans discarded nearby, dried blood stained the magenta carpet, trailing a large streak between umber thighs down to her calves. Limp fists clutched to the chest of her striped sweater. Umber skin appeared nearly drained of its melanin as the faintest quiver mouthed her lips inaudibly, brown orbs glossed in a lifeless stare.
"Hazel!" Nyekundu poofed out of her disguise in a dash to her goddaughter. She may as well have been transparent to such distant brown eyes staring through her. Dread shivered in her bones as Nyekundu kneeled to her, cupping cheeks damp in cold tears. The fairy godmother had only been able to rouse the mousiest whimper out of the child clinging to reality…
"…Nee-Nee…"
"Oh, Hazel…" Nyekundu raised her wand, glittering red sparkles along Hazel's legs. Masking the gasping sob with a palm over her mouth as her magic gradually healed the venereal tear between Hazel's thighs, confirming the absolute worst…
Wrenching remorse brimmed within red orbs, removing her palm from trembling lips. Shuddered breaths shook in her voice "…I am so, so sorry…"
A silent tear trailed down the returning melanin in Hazel's cheeks.
The sparkle in Nyekundu's wand faded once she was done at least mending the physical wounds. She then poofed a gold metal star with the purple button in the center, holding it in her hand with her wand. Her other hand delicately scratched the side of Hazel's curls.
"We have to go Kakao…" Nyekundu sobbed softly, peering into Hazel's unfocused gaze. "It is not safe for you here..."
Brown eyes began to glaze over, slumber's peace calling to her.
"I've got you…" Nyekundu whispered to her goddaughter's drooping lids. Blinking tears as her fingers moved to palm Hazel's tearstained cheek "…rest, now..."
Lacking the fight to resist, Hazel accepted deep slumber's welcoming hand. Shaky breaths escaped as Nyekundu magically cleaned the dried blood, changing her into a fresh pair of underwear and pants before scooping the sleeping child into her arms.
Transporter in hand, Nyekundu pressed the button, and rainbow swirls freed them from this nightmare.
Ceiling fluorescents were shut off for the night, leaving a single LED strip to cast the softest white shadows along emerald walls and across cyan tiles. The elderly Vladislapov couple were settled in sleep, embraced in each other's tranquil comfort on the sleeper sofa beneath the same French-blue cotton as their restive grandson.
A blue icepack secured the tiny fracture in his jaw, wrapping his face with an icy compression to help soothe the buzzing pain. Brooding blue fixed their stare across the hospital room, watching each sweep of the thinnest red hand tick down the seconds. The longer, thinner hand then aligned in a vertical line with the short, thicker hand, and the clock hands struck twelve on January 8th.
Gary sourly crinkled his nose. Stuck in the hospital for observation…on his 12th birthday. Totally not cool…
The now twelve-year-old lowered his disgruntled gaze to the French-blue cotton, wrinkling the fibers beneath scrunching fingers. He restrained himself from gritting his teeth, trying to avoid worsening the pain that he already endured from the top of his head down through his swollen chin. So far, two nurses had come to make their rounds and replace the jell pad with a fresh icy one. Though pain med's respite had worn off long ago, he'd lied to both nurses about his discomfort level. He should have asked to numb the pain, send him back under. That would be more relief than he thought he deserved…
He then turned to the yellow blood pressure monitor mounted above his bed on the wall, seeing the small line of drivel from the quiet breaths through parted lips. When Gary was of coherent mind to comprehend, Alondro had told him that LeRoi's sucker punch had literally snapped his jaw in half. Had it not been for Alondro's healing magic, doctors would've resorted to wiring the jaw shut after surgery. Instead, they secured the jaw from overexertion with a facial wrap. Despite some difficulty of annunciation, he was lucky to still have speech.
His grandparents had succumbed to sleep hours prior, and though Alondro had tried his best to fight it so he could be there for his godson, he had lost his battle not long after. Muted melancholy observed his godfather before he looked back to his grandparents on the sleeper sofa; regardless of the pain, Gary didn't want to disturb them. At the same time, he could really use the comfort. He knew he didn't have much time left…
Gary was furiously heartbroken after finding out what Bradley had done to Dwight. That bastard almost killed his best friend, an innocent kid who never deserves such a fate. If anything, LeRoi and his dumb and dumber goons should have left Dwight out of this. The brunt of their brutality should have gone towards him and him alone. Because if anyone were to take their last breath in the most vicious way possible, it should be him. Not Dwight.
Besides, losing his life wouldn't have mattered. For instance, Aunt Susanne and Uncle Daran. They smiled to his face, but Gary could tell that they mostly tolerated him for cordiality's sake. For the once a year he and his grandparents would visit, the Turners had isolated him from Timmy up until Sophia died. Even then, they seemed a little wary to let him and Timmy interact, and at first, Gary couldn't understand why. Stuck in a hospital with infinite amounts of time to think, he now understood perfectly.
He was the son of Marsden, a black sheep who will forever burn Susanne's heart in loathing flames. His younger cousin was also a near replica of said black sheep, and if Gary happened to be struggling mentally that day…
Somehow, this didn't make much sense as to why Sophia had been allowed around him but Timmy wasn't. Especially when looking at Sophia was seeing Timmy with longer hair and a pink bow instead of a pink hat. Was it seriously as simple as boy versus girl? Guess it didn't matter now. His cousin was now not only forbidden from interacting with him, but his cousin wanted nothing to do with him.
Timmy hated him, and Gary understood why. He was the one relative, the one person he shared blood with, who had looked passed a tragic death to see the accident that it truly was. Yet he stabbed him in the back by casting blame, just like everyone else in their family. Yes, Gary was not of sound mind when he'd said those awful words. The knife didn't cut any less deep to Timmy's bruised spirit…
To the Turners, it wouldn't have mattered if Gary had lost his life. Then again…there was Grandpa Vlad and Grandma Gladys.
Gary could see it now; the despair, the tears streaming down their cheeks, the heartfelt wails over his casket. He was the offspring of the son they hated, the son they tossed to the wolves. Yet they loved their grandson with their whole hearts, as if he'd come straight from them. They took him in when he had nowhere else to go as an emaciated four-year-old clinging to the policeman. Coated in his father's blood.
Monitored beeps increased in pace as his fingers crinkled more wrinkles into the blanket. His racing heart reenacted the utter dread chilling goosebumps in his skin, the same sheer terror that had flashed in his four-year-old eyes. Blue eyes blinked as the fabrics of reality blurred between French-blue cotton and the bottom of the barrel aimed right between his eyes. The handheld gun trembled in his father's grasp, his elm eyes wild in tearful ire…
"You made me do this…" Marsden clenched his jaw as the boy curled trepid knees to his chest. Too weak to lift himself off the hardwood floor. Too weak to run.
"You fucked up my life…you fucked up everything…" his threatening finger pressed against the trigger "…if I'm gonna rot in Hell…so the fuck are you…"
Tiny bones quaked, chilling Gary in shivering terror. H-He didn't understand…d-did he make Mars mad again? (When Gary was of the age to call Marsden 'dada,' Marsden had ruthlessly beaten 'dada' out of him and demanded that he only address him as 'Mars.')
…was…this punishment? Was…w-was he not a good boy?!
"You did this…you made me DO THIS!"
Whimpering weakly, Gary squeezed his eyes shut. All he could do…was accept his punishment…
A booming blast splashed liquid onto his skin, and a thud crashed in front of him.
Perplexed in shallow breaths, Gary forced his eyes to blink open, instantly regretting not keeping them closed. Wide eyes froze upon the gun sprawled amongst pieces of brain matter. A rapid pool of crimson gushed from the side of Marsden's head. Elm eyes forever frozen in a ghostly stare.
A shockwave of pain brought him back, quietly groaning from the pinch in his jaw and the dull throb in his gums. He must have gritted his teeth on accident, and his icepack was losing its cooling sensation. Great. At his point, he's gonna need to buzz a nurse. He was growing tired of thinking anyway. He wanted to just fade away…
"…feliz cumpleaños, peque..."
"…Alondro?" Gary turned to the tired voice coming from the yellow blood pressure monitor, grunting in a pained wince when he did so.
"…does it hurt?" Alondro assumed when his godson reached for the icepack losing its soothing strength.
Unable to hide and left with no choice, Gary reluctantly nodded, squinting in the process. Without being asked, Alondro raised his wand, and yellow sparkles glittered around Gary's jaw. Pulsing pain slowly subsided into a numb null, slowing the monitor's rhythmic pulse as relief relaxed Gary's shoulders. He murmured a thanks to his godfather, shifting in his bed to face him.
"…did I wake you?"
"No." Alondro stifled a yawn. "I was half asleep."
"Liar." Gary poked fun, or attempted to, at least. "You were totally drooling."
Alondro used his back hand to wipe the wetness off his mouth, flattening his brow in denial despite being caught in 4K. "…was not."
"Was too." Gary would've chuckled if he had the spirit to.
"Anyway…" Alondro changed the subject "…it was the heart monitor that woke me."
"Oh…" Gary tilted his head, diverting shamed eyes "…sorry."
"Do not apologize." Alondro faintly grinned. "Was it a bad dream?"
"…um…" Gary wrinkled his forehead hesitantly "…I was awake."
"Oh?"
"Yeah..." Gary couldn't admit to another flashback of his dad. He needed to switch gears "…Londro?"
"Si?"
When timid baby-blue met attentive icy-blue, his fingers gripped onto blue-cotton once more. Hoping that this sentiment would come across more heartfelt than alarming "…te quiero."
Alondro was both endeared and concerned by this sentiment. Gary did normally tell him that he loved him, but saying it in Spanish was almost always before landing himself in the hospital for an entirely different reason.
"…tú también…siempre." He frowned to his godchild, worried that ideations have made a huge comeback "…Gary, what is the matter?"
Crap…Gary hunched his shoulders. Yep, totally gave himself away like an idiot. Ugh, he was going to wait until the sun came up to do this. However, if he was honest…he didn't wanna be in this hospital anymore. He didn't wanna be here anymore…
"…I wish I can go see Dwight."
"Right now?" Alondro raised a brow. "But it is after midnight."
"¿…por favor?"
Alondro sighed heavily. Guess he couldn't deny the wish, since he couldn't stop his own godchild from getting socked in the face…
Sparking his wand, Alondro and Gary disappeared in yellow clouds.
. . . . . .
Chisholm lay nestled in DeWitt's lax arms, tucked in French-blue on a sleeper sofa beside their son's hospital bed. The eleven-year-old fixed purple eyes to the ceiling through black rims, unable to reconcile with sleep in spite of his exhaustion. Spread across his chest was French-blue replaced by dark-teal, blanketed by his godfather as steady snores filled the silence in his ears.
His bladder had been screaming for the last hour, but 1) he was still attached to a bunch of IVs and monitors, 2) he was too tired to lift a finger, and 3) he didn't want to wake Irving. He could buzz for someone on nightshift to assist, though that might wake his dads, and that was the last thing he wanted after everything he's put them through…
The audible ping of magical clouds tilted heavy eyes to his right, making out a figure with black hair and buckteeth wearing a yellow hospital bracelet as he quietly approached the bed.
"…can't sleep, either?" Gary whispered, noticing Dwight's eyes barely open.
"No…" Dwight mumbled through a yawn, lifting his glasses as he rubbed his eyes.
"I hear ya…" Gary paused briefly "…wanna get outta here?"
Dwight readjusted his glasses, slightly puzzled "…where?"
In response, Gary addressed his yellow hospital bracelet, keeping his voice low. "I wish Dwight and I had our transporters."
"…what are you up to, peque?" Alondro probed from rising suspicions.
"Just wanna go to Fairy Fort." Gary confessed, instead of confessing his true intentions for leaving Earth entirely. "Might beeya 'lot better than stayin' here."
Considering Gary's point, Alondro used his wand to poof two gold stars with a purple button in the center. Dwight held his transporter, sighing in partial regret. The escape of Fairy Fort screamed louder than his bladder, but Irving was sleeping so soundly. Unfortunately, Irving had to be awake for the transporter to activate.
With his other hand, Dwight willed himself to sit up, giving gentle pats to the dark-teal blanket. Whispering for his godfather to wake up as Irving snorted out of heavy sleep, fluttering his eyes.
"Are you coming back before someone realizes you are gone?" Alondro asked his godson.
Creasing his brow, Gary curled fingers tighter around his metal transporter. Apprehension held him back from disclosing that they were never coming back…
Her own transporter gripped in one hand, the eleven-year-old held a glued glare to the fire that didn't burn within the fireplace bricked in amethyst, a fresh white gauze taped to the side of her neck. Seated on deep-violet cushion with textured curls placid against her lap, resting a palm on the little girl's shoulder as she slept.
A phantom stab caused her to wince, reaching fingers to the gauze. Quickly soothed by the blue sparkles of numbing magic by her godmother hovering beside the couch as she multitasked between tending to Molly and tending to her girlfriend sobbing into dark-green sweater.
"I-I couldn't protect her…" Nyekundu whimpered on repeat. "I-I…f-failed her…"
"No, no no no…" Swizzle shushed, consoling fingers playing with the back of Nyekundu's red fro-hawk. Her other arm belted Nyekundu's waist against her as guilt-stricken sobs damped her shoulder. "…stop blaming yourself, babe…." If only she could listen to her own advice.
With just Nyekundu's account of events, Molly definitely didn't blame Hazel's godmother. Hillary was just a bitch in the making, but Anthony had always given Molly sus vibes from the stories she'd heard. Then that psycho knocks out a mouse so he could violate a little fucking girl. That fucking dickhead. Molly almost wished she'd been there just to snap that fucker's pencil dick off with her bare hands…
Quiet whimpers caused Molly to look down at Hazel rocking her head back and forth, crinkling her troubled brow with closed eyes. Poor kid, she was having a nightmare. Molly rubbed her hand along the length of Hazel's arm, hoping it would send the subconscious message that Hazel wasn't alone. This seemed to be a quick fix when Hazel soon settled back into stillness, though a single tear still escaped.
Molly frowned. Such a sweet little girl like Hazel had her entire innocence stripped from her, chewed into mush, then spat back in her face. Molly wouldn't wish that on her worst enemy…
Okay, she totally would. But like…the worst of the worst. Like Frank. Or Marissa, lowkey. For a mother to do nothing to stop a man from stabbing her own daughter?! Trash.
When the grand entrance opened, Molly and the two fairy godmothers saw two other godchildren arriving with their fairy godfathers. One sported a swollen jaw with no icepack, the other a bandaged forehead with no nasal cannula for oxygen.
Alondro and Irving flew over to their fellow godparents, seeing Nyekundu's tears as the perfect reflection of how heavy their hearts were.
"…this is bad…" Irving sighed, Alondro pressing folded lips.
"Agreed…" Swizzle massaged consoling circles below Nyekundu's wings.
Stepping further into the castle, Gary and Dwight made their way to the couch. Gary carefully settled on the empty spot beside Hazel's feet. Watching the ebb and flow of her chest as Dwight walked over to Molly.
Dwight frowned at the gauze taped to her neck. "…what happened there?"
"Frank's knife is what happened…" Molly muttered, subconsciously reaching for the gauze. A cold scoff followed "…if he was really tough shit, he would've dug deeper…"
"Molly, stop." Swizzle wearily scolded, making Molly groan gruffly.
"What about you?" Molly switched the subject. "You look like sh-crap." She corrected herself.
Cringing from the sore pinch of his headwound, Dwight reached for the gauze wrapped around his forehead beneath his bowl cut "…details are a little fuzzy…"
"Long story short," Gary's grumble interjected. "LeRoi and his goons jumped us…"
Molly turned to her left, getting a closer look at the swell in Gary's jaw "…they did a number on you guys…"
A short gasp winced before groggy brown blinked, drawing bent knees into the tightest ball possible. Burying her face into Molly's lap with the faintest shivers throughout her body "…Nee-Nee…"
Nyekundu wiped her tears, pulling away from her girlfriend to see Gary offer a reassuring palm to Hazel's fretting whimpers.
"It's okay, Haze..." he spoke calmly. "You're at Fairy Fort. You're safe…"
Watering eyes mustered the courage to lift from Molly's lap, parting enough to put a familiar face to the familiar voice "…G-Gare bear…"
"Hey, kid..." Gary's swollen jaw attempted a weak smile, only to wince from stiff soreness. It was a flop, but at least Hazel started to shiver less. "And look…" his pointed finger directed glossy eyes to the gothic girl and dorky ginger. "Molly and Dwight are here, too."
Her eyes widened tearfully, quivering a jutted lip. Her friends were all badly hurt, but she was glad that they were all alive. She attempted to sit up when weighted pressure punched between her legs, flashing flickers of Anthony on top of her. She tasted the handkerchief on her tongue, triggering a gag. Covering soft sobs with both hands.
"…Haze?" Gary gently reached for her shoulder, scrunching his brow to Hazel scooting herself further into the couch. "What's wrong?"
Fear shook wildly in her head, eyes clasped shut. Spilling tears onto Molly's jeans and Gary's leather jacket before she clutched arms against her chest. Drawing knees to hide her face, coiling as small as she could make herself.
"Whatever it was must've been really bad…" Dwight's sympathy remarked, saddened by the trembling whines muted by Hazel's jeans.
Molly bitterly snarled. "You have no idea…"
As Hazel's whines increased to sobs, Gary lowered glum eyes to folded arms over his lap. He should have died, Dwight and Molly looked death in the eyes, and whatever happened to Hazel…killed her inside.
His fists squeezed, hearing his dad echo "you made me do this" in his head. That day did not go as destined. He remembered being unable to move as Marsden yelled at him. Blamed him once again for killing his wife, the only person to ever love him. He saw Marsden load two bullets…yet only one was fired. The older Gary had gotten, the more he realized the truth.
Marsden was supposed to take him first before he took himself. Somehow, at the last minute, Marsden changed his mind. Why? Because he felt deep in his vicious heart that Gary didn't deserve death's reprieve. He deserved life's punishment.
Gary raised his gaze to their godparents. Nyekundu rubbed vexed palms in attempts to stop her endless tears, and Swizzle held her by the waist with a sulking chin on Nyekundu's shoulder. Alondro crossed his arms as Irving hung his head, pinching his nose. Gary could see their defeat, sense the disgust harbored towards themselves. He didn't have the heart to place blame on the fairies; the powers and jurisdiction of the fairies could only do but so much.
The sole purpose of fairy godparents was to bring happiness to miserable children…what if true happiness was unattainable? What if the fate of endless misery and suffering was outside of magic's control?
He looked to Hazel's softening sobs, watching Molly rub consoling fingers along Hazel's arms as Dwight kneeled to sit on the ground, resting a hand of solace on Hazel's knee. Gary had always dreaded the day that all of them had discussed when the fairies weren't around. The day everything took a nosedive towards rock bottom. The day the blessing of receiving godparents became more burdensome for the fairies themselves. The day that the four of them were left with no other choice…
If life ever got this bad…they had to stop it from getting worse.
When Gary cleared his throat, Molly and Dwight met his gaze as Hazel sniffed, pushing past her urge to hide as she lifted her head in Gary's direction. The three of them watched as Gary pointed his right index finger, swiping it down across the palm of his left hand before he gestured his right thumb to all of them, including himself.
Recognizing that specific sign, Dwight to bite his lip, confliction scrunched in his brow. Since his epilepsy diagnosis, his fathers struggled to keep their heads above debt's waters. The more they worked, the less he quality time he had with them. They had to make a lot of sacrifices…but they never stopped loving him. He was their entire worlds, and Dwight knew that.
Still, if he'd never had epilepsy, he wasn't so sure if his life would've been any better.
This biggest reason for Irving was his epilepsy. Without Irving, he would have never met Chloe, nor would he have ever met the friends made through magic. And without them…he'd be alone as an outcast. He still had Elmer and his parents and technically be alone…but that wouldn't ward off bullies teasing him like some worthless loser.
He hated that he can't make the troubles that epilepsy came with disappear, with or without magic. He hated that he'd made Elmer so scared for him that night. He hated causing his fathers so much stress. He hated being such a troublesome onus to Irving. He hated being the source of strife for everyone around him. He didn't want to be a burden anymore…
Folded lips fought back pushing tears. He can't be a burden anymore.
Surly thoughts lowered Molly's glare down to the deep-plum grooves of marbled stone. Her mother was a useless drunk, Frank was a deadbeat douche, and Francis was a just a dumbfuck blockhead. The dude with a weak pullout game could be dead or alive for all she knew, and all other family had cut ties with Marissa. All she had to do was put the fuckin' bottle down, but she refused. She couldn't give enough of a shit for her own life, let alone for the kid that never asked to be born.
If Molly hadn't transported out of the hospital when nurses weren't around, she would have been discharged to CPS as a ward of the state. Francis was likely a ward of the state too, and that certainly sucked for him. She didn't have to know the horror stories to know how crap the foster care system can be, especially for kids her age. Too old for adoptive parents wanting a fresh family with zero baggage, yet too young to thrive in society on her own.
Kids with nowhere else to go, destined for failure.
She would be at the ill mercy of a system that just shoves kids from home to home, homes that only care enough to make a buck off of them. She'd just bounce from stranger to stranger, folks who don't know her, folks who don't give a shit about her, and folks who never fucking will. Passing through the chain until she aged out, abandoned and tossed to survive in a war with no weapons.
Regret clawed at Molly's heart. She didn't always show it, but Swizzle truly was the best thing to ever happen to her. And clearly, Swizzle cared about her enough to save her freakin' life. Swizzle was all she had left…but Swizzle didn't deserve to keep putting effort into a kid with no purpose…
Molly squeezed the transporter that was still between her fingers. Swizzle didn't deserve a kid with nothing to live for.
Fresh tears glossed as Hazel's chin quivered. She flung herself to Gary, gripping his chest as he squeezed her tight, grief closing his eyes. His cheek lowered to the top of her curls as she sobbed into his shirt, thinking of how Nyekundu had said her that it was no longer safe for her at home. No way would she ever bear to look Anthony nor Fenwick in the eye. Not after what they've done. Hillary regarded her as nothing more than the one thing that can never change, with or without makeup. For all she knew, Hillary would kill to be the youngest girl again.
Then there were her parents...
Hazel sniffed as another flash of memories flickered, recalling the night when she was five and had a bad dream. She'd ran out of bed and down the hall to her parents' room, to tell her everything would be okay. However, when she could hear them arguing through the door, she thought her nightmare was far from over.
"Bringing some blackie home does not automatically make you a good person!"
Even when she didn't know what her dad meant at the time, she knew it wasn't nice. She knew it was meanspirited. What her mom said in response didn't make matters any better…
"You think anyone else wanted her?! She was at that same orphanage for five years! Only when I came along did they practically push her into my arms because all they saw were dollar signs!"
Anthony was right; their dad never hugged them, and their mom made up for what he lacked. But what Anthony didn't consider was that when their mom hugged him and Hillary, their biological bond was evident. When she hugged Hazel, it was just her maternal duty to do so. Hazel didn't always see the difference, yet she always felt it. She also felt her mom's obligation to defend her against flat-out racists. Not because she was the white mother of a black child. Because she felt a responsibility to be the voice of the oppressed.
Hazel would have remained blind to these underlines had Nyekundu never entered her life. Nyekundu had opened her eyes to things that she'd otherwise view as normal. Hazel was glad to have her, because Nyekundu was someone she could see herself in. Adversely, she was overtly aware of how othered she was. The little black tar-baby blemishing their precious white sea. Every blatant statement, every undertone, ripped her soul apart. She was already wearing thin, and Anthony tore the last shred when he tore into her...
How could she ever stitch herself back together?
"...you don't have to do this, Haze..."
Brown tears looked up to the narrowed baby-blue contrasting his gentle voice.
"You can change your mind."
Fixed in her stare, her tears darkened. Jutting her lip with a made-up mind "…no. I'm doing it, too."
Distracted from their thoughts, Dwight and Molly glanced with wide eyes to the little girl's resolve. Gary stared at Hazel, equally as aghast. No…she was too young. "Haze…"
"I had agreed, just like Molly and Dwight." her staunch tone sounded much older than her age "…I want this."
Dwight looked away to keep his sadness at bay, looking close to tears as Molly's creased brow quivered, biting back the gloss in her eyes. Such a little girl shouldn't have to make such a big decision. Why the hell did they ever talk her into this?
"…what are you all talking about?"
Hearing the cynicism, Gary looked up to the narrowed icy-blue of his godfather. "…the 'escape' room. We wanna go see the waterfall." Gary excused, unsure if that would at least lessen Alondro's suspicions.
"Then we will come with you-"
"No." Letting Hazel go, Gary stood from the couch. Swallowing a lump as he faced his godfather's skeptical gaze "…we wanna go alone."
"W-We also want you guys should get some rest…" Dwight spoke as he too stood to his feet, sensing his best friend's confidence weaken. "Things have been just as tough on you guys."
Irving studied his godson, slightly unsettled "…you…sure that's all you're doin'? Watchin' the waterfall?"
"Yep." Molly confirmed tersely, she too standing from the couch to see her godmother's cross her arms, her gaze seeping with doubt.
"…we're not so sure if you guys should be alone right now." Swizzle remarked.
"We can always put it in wish form." Molly stated, steadfast in eye contact. "But we'd rather not do that."
Nyekundu could see the silent tears still dripping off her goddaughter's chin as she left the couch, flying over to her. "…are you sure this is what you want?"
"Yes…" Hazel sniffed just before her unwavering brow began to wilt "…but…" shattered spirits trembled in her lip once more "…c-can I have a hug, first?"
Nyekundu took Hazel into her arms with no hesitation. As they squeezed each other in the tightest embrace, Nyekundu held Hazel's head against her chest as she scratched the back of Hazel's textured curls.
Hazel could hear the audible cocoon of her godmother's heart, finding her slowly soothed by its steady pace. "…Nee-Nee?"
"…yes?"
Hazel stalled, wondering if her favorite lullaby could calm her unraveled spirits "…m-may I hear 'Lala Mtoto?'"
Nyekundu grimaced, scratching Hazel's curls. Her heart felt too heavy for such a light and bouncy nursery rhyme. But she knew she had no choice. Hazel needed her.
So, after what deep breath she could muster, Nyekundu started to sing.
Heavy eyes continued to cry, feeling her godmother's voice vibrate in the top of her chest. Shaky yet silky, so soft. A warm blanket for her heart to wrap itself in from the cold, harsh world. Hazel allowed her lids to fall, chin trembling as trickles of tears broke free. Nyekundu's love felt so pure. She had to soak it all in…for the last time.
As Nyekundu continued her lullaby, Molly took apprehensive steps towards Swizzle. Slumped shoulders folded tight arms across her chest with trepid eyes to her combats. Swizzle observed her goddaughter, having never seen such timidity in her. When she hovered closer to see what Molly wanted, Molly raised yale-blue orbs to dark-blue. Knowing there won't be another opportunity to say what she should have said a long time ago.
"…I love you, Swizzle."
That was certainly not what Swizzle expected to hear. She didn't even know 'love' was in Molly's vocabulary. Even so, the sentiment was quite touching. Touching enough to crack in her quiet voice "…I love you too, Molls…"
Dwight walked over to his godfather, unable to mask the furrow in his brow "…thank you, Irving." he mustered the audible voice to say "…for everything."
Irving's features saddened. Something troubled Dwight, something he wasn't telling him. It was written clear as day all over his non-existent poker face. "You don't gotta thank me, buddy."
"No, I do…" Dwight bent his head, lifting his glasses to wipe away swelling tears "…a-and I'm sorry…for always c-causing you s-so much trouble..."
"Hey…" Irving hovered to his godson, reaching gentle palms to Dwight's quivering shoulders. Torn from the clenched sobs that escaped "…where's this comin' from?"
Dwight couldn't speak, overcome with dysphoric regret.
Gary watched with dejected eyes as Irving drew Dwight close, embracing him as Dwight buried his face into Irving's chest. Dwight was too good of a soul to leave this life, but Gary knew Dwight would never live with himself as the sole survivor of their group.
"…Gary?"
Gary turned around to Alondro's firm gaze on him.
"¿Crees que soy estúpido?"
"…why would I think you're stupid?" Gary softly challenged, screaming to flee on the inside.
Balling his fists, Alondro creased his glare. "You think I do not know that the four of you have formed a pact!"
Nyekundu's lullaby paused at Alondro's eruption as Hazel lifted her head from her chest, looking in Alondro's direction. Swizzle glanced at Molly's guilty gaze before she looked over at Irving who held onto Dwight's hitched sobs.
The air thickened as Gary bit down on his lip, feeling backed into a corner. Guilt lowered his chin, squeezing his eyes. Bracing himself for slighted anger at just how much he fucked everything up...
His eyes flashed when strong arms suddenly enfolded him, gripping him with no desire to ever let go again. The side of his neck became damp, feeling the heartbreak of stifled sobs.
"…p-por favor, peque…" Alondro pleaded weakly, squeezing him tighter "…te q-quiero mucho…"
The heartache from his godfather's plea shook hot tears in Gary's eyes. He never wanted to hurt Alondro. None of them ever wanted to hurt their godparents. But there was nothing any of them could say to make them understand. In the end, this was for the best. The had to stop their pain from causing more pain…
Sparks of periwinkle-blue blinded Alondro, covering his eyes as he pulled away from the swirling aura cast around Gary. Irving did the same when Dwight's body sparkled in a turquoise light. Swizzle stood puzzled by the lavender-purple glow in Molly's skin, and Nyekundu saw Hazel back away, goggling at the taffy-pink light emitted from the curls in her fro to the soles of her feet.
As Gary gawked at the blue sparks tingling in his skin, he looked to Alondro for answers, only to see Alondro's baffled stare have just as many questions. He tried to call out to his godfather, but his voice was stolen. Then vertigo crashed down, and his vision blurred into black.
"Gary!"
Alondro dashed to catch Gary before his body hit the floor. Irving braced when Dwight's legs went weak, growing limp in his arms. Swizzle saw Molly's eyes glaze as she hurried to stop her flaccid fall, and Nyekundu flew behind Hazel as she fell backwards, dropping like a sack into her arms.
Before any of the fairies had time to process, walls of amethyst brick quivered upon the boom of a large mushroom cloud. When the smoke cleared, a humanoid figure of brute muscle stood before them. Tanned in a caramel complexion with a gold crown hatting his silver flattop, his green tank tucked into camouflage pants looped in black leather.
The fairies froze as The Commander of Fairies stepped towards them in his steeled-toe combats, the grand staff of a magic wand clasped in his imposingly clenched fist. Glaring down with an incomprehensible level of fury flashed in his steel-blue lour.
"All of you must come with me!" Jorgen Von Strangle roared to his subordinates. "Now!"