Day 1: astrology, rose tyler/river song

star crossed, hearts frozen

"Of course astrology isn't real," Rose commented with a light shrug, grinning. "But surely something else like it exists elsewhere. Humans can't have been the only people who looked up at the sky and went 'that must have meaning'. So tell me about other culture's astrology."

River sighed, looking over her shoulder back at Rose. They were supposed to be tracking a creature that was terrorizing a nearby town, and Rose was fixated on something else entirely. Granted, she did enjoy that Rose never really took anything too seriously. It reminded her of the Doctor in a lot of ways. "Sure, other cultures looked up at the stars and thought it meant something," River said, scanning the nearby area for any sign of the creature. "It's the nature of primitive races to try to find meaning in something that exists without the context of themselves. But the stars exist regardless of humans, and they exist regardless of other species."

They came to a stop in front of a babbling creek. This was the world she was named after - a world with no oceans and no ponds; just the rivers that gave life to the trees that grew into the atmosphere. The purest oxygen into the entire universe, untouched by technology. The creature they were chasing sought to destroy it. "And yet we all exist in the context of what came before us," Rose said, leaping onto the stones. She was graceful, and turned back with a light peel of laughter. "Think about it. If I hadn't skipped my A Levels to run off with Jimmy, I never woulda worked that job that the Doctor blew up. And we'd have never met. Maybe it wasn't fated by stars, but who's to say the stars didn't have any influence on it?"

"Poor choices of a teenager are hardly something that the stars would care about," River said, following after Rose. She didn't want to think about the influence that time and stars had on her life. "This coming from the woman who creates herself. You're the one who wrote your own story."

"Guess I'm a good writer then. So you aren't going to tell me, then?" Rose rolled her eyes. "In that case... bet you can't keep up with me."

And with that, Rose took off into the forest and River followed after.

Day 2: fortune, yusei fudo/aki izayoi

i came here for sanctuary

The crowd would never cheer for her.

Aki knew that the minute the truth of who she was came out in her very first Duel. As much as she wanted to hate the crowd for it, she knew fortune was never going to favor her. She'd carried a black mark since she was a child. A cursed child with no hope, no path to becoming anything more than a freak that people talked about behind her back and never to her face. They'd never have to see the pain in her eyes. She'd wear the mask, and she could live with the distrust in her very existence. She didn't need to have friends. Divine was all she needed. Everyone else could look at her like a monster so long as Divine worshipped at the altar of her. He showered her with praise, telling her all the time how important she was to his future. Aki could look past all the warning signs so long as he cared about her.

It didn't matter that the crowd would never cheer for her because Divine loved her. All that stood between her and victory was Yusei Fudo, and if she destroyed him, she could change her fortune.

The crowd was never going to cheer for her.

Yusei didn't care about the cheer of a crowd - that wasn't what she was here for. As far as she was concerned, the crowd was simply a distraction from the real prize that existed at the end of this gauntlet. All that stood between her and reclaiming her Stardust Dragon and freeing her friends from the threat of Godwin was Aki Izayoi. She recognized something in Aki that made her pause, and she'd tried very hard to forget Kiryu. That anger, that destruction - she'd seen it before. If she could bolt from Dueling Izayoi, would she? She wasn't sure. She was a little bit scared to face the Black Rose Witch, but fear was easy to tamp down. No, there was something else that Yusei could sense was coming from her. Something was binding the two of them together.

And whatever it was, it led them to face each other. The marks on their skin blazed and burned as they fought, as if whatever it was telling them that they were bound together. Yusei was certain their fortunes had changed. She just needed to prove it to Aki.

The crowd was cheering.

Day 3: attic, diana kettering/ophelia copperfield

good girls do bad things too

Diana had never lived in a house like this. There were so many rooms, most of which had furniture covered by white cloth and cobwebs. At one point, she could imagine the reasoning behind these rooms considering the age and location. This was not a house built with the idea that someone like her would own it. Someone like her would live in it, but she was not intended to have the freedom she had. It was a somber thought, and she did her best to suppress it as she wandered these halls. The portraits glared down at her, as if they disapproved of her very existence. Ophelia knew the house better than she did, as if she’d spent her whole life here.

“Are you paying attention?” Ophelia turned back to her, arching her brow at her. Diana wondered very briefly if Ophelia manicured her own brows or if she paid someone to make them look like that. “Your grandmother is attempting to claim your father was not of sound mind when he wrote that will. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?”

Diana shrugged. She didn’t know her father, but she couldn’t attest to his sound mind. After all, what kind of man faked his death to leave his wife with a baby? Sometimes it felt better to think that perhaps that he wasn’t of sound mind when he left. She could understand why her grandmother would feel better to think he wasn’t of sound mind when he bequeathed everything to Diana. “I don’t think anyone wants to believe that my father was a man of sound mind,” she admitted. “I still can’t even say I knew the man. I have seen photos and yearbooks, but who he was…”

Ophelia folded her arms across her chest, and Diana wondered why her father chose to trust all his secrets in his estate lawyer. Why did Ophelia get to know her father and she didn’t? Sometimes she was jealous of her for that, and other times she couldn’t tell what she felt about it. “Let’s go to the attic,” Ophelia said, turning and leading the way. “There’s something that I’ve been meaning to show you up there.”

There had been so many things about this house that Diana had seen, and yet it seemed to spin on forever. It felt like a labyrinth at times and other times it felt like the belly of a beast that had swallowed her whole. In both feelings, Diana felt like she had little control over which room she ended up in. She had no idea how Jane and Ophelia were so comfortable and at ease in this monster beyond the sneaking suspicion that rich white people just simply had a different sense of fear from people like her. Diana frequently found herself wondering if she would have inherited the same ease had Jane been her mother and not her stepmother. Would she be the same person if she had? Would she feel the same attraction to Ophelia she felt now if she’d been born into this world rather than an interloper?

She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. All she knew was that as Ophelia led her up to the head of the beast, she felt safe and secure in a way she didn’t when she was on her own in this home. It was something that Diana would never admit to so long as she lived, but her heart had been stolen and now Ophelia held it beating in her hands. She had power and influence over her, and she’d never been the same again for it.

The ladder up to the attic creaked under her boots, and she was curious how Ophelia had learned to climb a ladder in high heels. Did she have any other shoes behind heels that would make Diana fall flat on her face if she tried to walk in them? It didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, but it was a reminder of the ocean between the two of them. No one had taught Diana how to walk in heels, but Ophelia knew it instinctively.

She popped up into a surprisingly clean space - as if it had been recently used. Everything was packed up into boxes, neatly labeled with her father’s name on it. Either Jane or her grandmother must have done it before she got here. “What are in the boxes?”

“Video games, mostly,” Ophelia replied, leading her to a window. “Your father had this place renovated so it’d have electricity. He mainly used this space to enjoy his Atari. He’d recently purchased the Nintendo 64 and was excited to try it before he passed. Jane thought he was wasting his time, and disliked it. It’s no wonder she packed this place up so fast. But you… you’re so much like your father.”

Diana wasn't sure if she should be offended by that. The only defining trait she had for her father was a man who leaves. Was she like that? Was Diana the type of woman who would leave a happy family if it meant she could get hers? With a pang, she realized that she had done exactly that. She'd left her ma for fortune and a fancy house, just like her father did. "I should clean up the rooms," she said softly, staring up at that stained glass window that faced out to the main road. It was one of the few windows that wasn't caked in dust in the house - as if her father had personally taken care of this window. "I think that I should try to move my mother and uncle here. It's a decent-sized house, and well. I'm sure ma would like her room."

"I'll have it taken care of, Diana," Ophelia said with a light smile, as if she knew something that Diana didn't. "I'm glad you're staying."

She took Diana's hand in hers, and her heart skipped a beat. For a moment, she wondered what would happen if she went for the risky play. Diana dropped her hand first. She was like her father: a coward.

Day 4, teeth, violet foxglove/karma carter

been cut down to size

Violet bolted up in bed from the same dream that had been haunting her: she would be on stage in a glittering bodysuit, and then her teeth would start falling out one by one. Instead of anyone helping her, the crowd turned to jeers and yelled at her to continue. She felt the frozen smile on her face - as if she'd been smiling the way she might for a paparazzo picture at night. She tried to self-soothe, and her heart continued to race a few miles an hour. Laying next to her was Karma, sleeping peacefully as if their lives as they know it wouldn't be over if someone broke in for Violet and found this scene instead. She imagined it from the outside looking in, and her body wracked with sobs over the dream again. What she would give to bite back! What she would give to yell again! What she would give to not have to shave her legs tomorrow if she wanted to leave the house!

Everything she had ever wanted was in her hands and all she thought about was being five years old again. A child was not expected to shave their legs. People would look at the people who suggested she wear those sparkly two pieces that barely covered her like they'd grown a second head if she was a child again. She was a caged animal, and she knew why she kept dreaming the same dream about her teeth falling out on stage. She fell back into sleep, and the second version of the dream came to her: blood-soaked, with teeth sharp enough to tear into flesh in place of what she had before. A monstrous creature that people whipped at, and trainers trying to restrain her to rip them out.

Both dreams were ridiculous; she chided herself again for having either. This time when Violet woke, Karma was awake with a deeply concerned look on her face. "Vi, you were thrashing in your sleep," she said softly, and it just occurred to Violet that her wrists were restrained. Karma was hovering over her, pinning her down. That would explain the trainers trying to restain her portion of the dream. "I was scared you were going to hurt yourself."

Karma's voice broke at the end of the sentence, and her hand was gently against her cheek. Violet found herself struggling to breathe. It was like she was on the outside looking in, and she couldn't get back in her own body. It was not easy, but slowly, she found her voice again. "I was having a nightmare," Violet admitted. "I was... a monster. And trainers were trying to harm me to get me to perform for this crowd that was... demanding I do more. That I wasn't good enough. And I couldn't fight back - I was restrained in this..."

Hey, hey," Karama soothed. "It's okay. It wasn't real. You're safe. We're alone."

Was it? Was it just in her imagination? Violet considered this, trying to figure out if it would be insane to argue that it was real. After all, she was just a pop star who'd worked so hard to be on stages in front of thousands of people singing along to the music she wrote. This was what she'd wanted. And yet... something about the fantasy versus the reality had completely broken her in ways she couldn't quite explain. Her pieces were shattered all around her, and she only felt whole when hidden away in a bedroom with Karma. She felt like herself here. Karma was wiping away her tears (she'd been crying? Since when?) and holding her closer. "We are," she said softly, slowly regaining control. "I'm sorry I'm a wreck."

Karma kissed her forehead. "It's okay. We're both wrecks. Let's go back to bed, okay?"

Violet nodded as she settled back into the comfort of Karma's arms. Here, she was safe from having to perform. Here, she was free.

Day 5, divination, divine/aki izayoi, hinted future yusei fudo/aki izayoi

finding it hard to leave

It wasn't that Aki didn't love Divine. She did. Truly, madly, deeply, cross her heart and hope to die. Ever since Divine found her on the street, and was willing to see her as a person, she knew that she'd be hers forever. So why did she keep having the same dream?

Every night, she'd dream of the same woman with messy bedhead and a gentle, deep voice trying to tell her something. Every night, the words kept getting clearer and Aki didn't want to hear it.

During the day, she'd quietly set the table for her and Divine. If she was lucky, Divine would have time to enjoy a meal with her. If she was even luckier, she would catch a glimpse of her smile that sent her heart into flutters. It didn't matter what else happened that day if that happened. A small whisper in hear head from that voice - it isn't right that she goes days without seeing the smile of her beloved. It isn't right, and she would shut it down. It wasn't real, and she refused to let a ghost tell her how to live her life. She wouldn't let an apparition ruin the one thing that made her feel like she wasn't a monster.

The dreams got worse. The woman's face was blurred no matter how much Aki demanded she show herself. Sometimes she was scared of that woman, and when she woke, she'd head to Divine's room. Sometimes Divine would let Aki lay next to her, other times Divine would tell her that she needed to deal with her dreams on her own. It really depended on how she felt that night, and Aki accepted that. It was just like her smile: luck ruled over all.

"I keep seeing this vision in my dreams," Aki finally said after Divine coaxed it out of her. "A strange woman who says something but... I can't make out what she says."

That wasn't the truth, but Divine had no reason to believe Aki would ever lie to her. She knew that she could omit pieces since Divine would rarely press her for details. "I see," she said. "Sometimes our powers give us visions. It's important to work out what a dream is trying to tell you because it could be a warning of something dangerous coming your way."

Aki's eyes widened as she considered this. She'd had no reason to fear the woman in her dreams up until now. In her dreams, the woman had felt warm... safe... like she'd seen into the deepest corners of her heart and still loved her. Loved her? She admittedly been unwilling to think about how the woman made her feel until now. Her cheeks heated up as she thought about the appeal that this woman had, and how she would think about her long after she'd woken up. "But she didn't seem dangerous," Aki said softly. "I... didn't think that she was dangerous."

"Of course you didn't," Divine said gently, ruffling her hair and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Poison ivy looks like pretty flowers, but it'll hurt you. But don't you worry, Aki. I'll keep you safe."

Then Divine surprised her: she wrapped her arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. There was only a few times that Divine ever held like this, and Aki melted into it. It was enough to put that woman out of her head for the first time in ages. Whoever she was, Divine must be right. She was a danger to leading her down the wrong path, and she knew better. The future was crystal clear, as far as Aki was concerned.

Day 6: cryptid, rose tyler/eighth doctor

i go down all your darkest roads

The Doctor had heard of this legend, and for the first time, they were exploring it down the jungle to a town on a planet that no one visited. Rumors of a woman who held the power to heal someone from the brink of death. An impossible woman made of time and gold, who spoke of a person coming to the woods to meet her, as they always do. A creature that was impossible, that couldn't exist. Still, going to see it was something to do to avoid a war that was raging across the cosmos. The legends of Gallifrey were weighing on them, and they carried the burden of a Time Lord like an anchor in the ocean. It threatened to sink them with every new planet in each new attempt to outrun what was coming: the war to end all wars, just like the humans once declared War World I to be.

"I was wondering when you'd come," a voice called out from the depth of the woods, just as the locals said it would. "Come closer, Doctor."

They paused. This creature knew his name? Their brow furrowed as they weighed the options. Following a strange voice into the woods was rarely a smart idea, but the local legends insisted this creature was harmless. That she appears in the body of a young woman, with strange clothes that they'd never seen before. She would heal the sick and dying most times, but if she couldn't, she was gentle enough to allow them to drift to sleep with no pain. She was both life and death - a harbinger of hope. And hope was a dangerous and delicate thing. "How do I know you won't harm me?"

"It is not your time," she called back. "Come closer. Please. I want to see your face."

The woods all around them seemed to shrink, and the trees around him seemed to part. Unless... was this a flex of the creature's power? The aura radiating ahead made the hairs on the back of their neck stand up. They were certain if whatever waited ahead for them wanted to harm them, it certainly could. Still, they went ahead into the woods - the creature had promised to not harm him, and while they didn't trust the promise of strange creatures, it would be rude to not extend a level of faith. "They say you can heal the sick," the Doctor called out, treading carefully into the den. Time started to whirl around them, and if they were honest, they were terrified of it. "That you can predict the future, but we both know that isn't possible. So what are you?"

"I can," the voice said, and a flash of golden light temporarily blinded them. When their vision cleared, a young blonde woman stood before him - woman was a stretch. She appeared human in every way, young too. If they had to hazard a guess, this woman couldn't be older than twenty. "A simple planet like this with little interference from time travelers, with tiny lives that exist outside of the Time War.... Their lives can be predicted easily. But you, Doctor. You're a complex time event and yet... I know your future."

"You can't," they replied, shaking their head. "It's not possible to know my future. It's always changing and... what are you? You didn't answer the question."

"I am your future," she said, and she gave a tongue in cheek grin. "Do you like what you see? You're going to be seeing it a lot."

"If you're my future, then... I can't heal the sick or predict the future," the Doctor snapped, glaring at this woman as they tried to decide if they liked this face. "You're creating a paradox by showing me a future regeneration."

"Not like that, silly," the woman said, stepping closer to him. "I've never seen you this young... I'm here because well, in order for us to meet... well, I have to make sure that you make it to meet me. I don't... exist like this if you don't survive. It's my job to make sure that time doesn't shatter."

The Doctor reeled as they attempted to work out what any of this meant. None of this made any sense. "You're.... not human though," they said, the wheels spinning. "The TARDIS... she picked up your signal and brought me here. But... it was also my choice. I heard the rumors of your existence, and I came here. I wanted to see exactly what you were and how you existed."

"You're thinking a little too hard, Doctor," she said again, and it just occurred to the Doctor that they didn't have a name. "You won't remember my name. Let's just say.... I'm the Moment."

Instantly, they were reminded of the legends that existed on Gallifrey that they'd been trying to avoid. If the legends were right, the woman in front of him shouldn't exist. "You're a Time Lord?" The Doctor glared. "You have some nerve -"

"Not a Time Lord," the Moment said, shaking her head with a bright tongue in teeth grin that could melt their hearts. "You keep cutting me off. I was going to tell you that I was human. I'm fully human, but I took the heart of the TARDIS in me. I exist in this form in a state of temporal blip - both forever and not at all. All of it is leading me to the end of the Time War, to truly end it all. I suppose the metaphor you could use is that I am a sword, and you are merely the wielder of me. A living weapon."

A weapon that breathed and lived. A weapon that could judge you if you dare to use it. There had been myths in Gallifrey of such a weapon, but no one dared to seek it out. Even as the Time War coalesced around them, no one wanted that kind of power if it meant the weapon could refuse to work or worse, stained your hands with the blood you took. This was a weapon that had sought them out specifically, and they had the nasty feeling that this weapon was demanding that they use it. "I don't want the power you're offering," they said flatly. "I want to stay out of the Time War. I thought you were a healer."

"I am. But surely you heard the other part of the legends," she said, frowning. "I can see everything, Doctor. It makes me mad. I can see where someone's life ends, and there is nothing I can do to save them. You did the same. You saved her, even when you weren't supposed to. Doctor, how did you do it? Please. I need to know how you saved her." Her hands were gripping at their jacket, and she fell to her knees with her eyes wide - pleading. "You took Charley off that ship. She was supposed to die there. Time said she was supposed to die, and you saved her. I can't do that, but you could. How is that fair? Why must I be both the harbinger of hope and death?"

She was crying, and the Doctor didn't know what to do. How did one comfort a weapon? They reached down to pull the Moment up off her knees into a tight hug. "I'm so sorry," they said softly. "It must be hell to not have free will."

Her fingers gripped at their jacket, and they both knew he wouldn't remember this. It was important they didn’t. Oh, how they wished they would be able to remember this moment with the Moment. She was softer than they’d expected, and smelled vaguely of jasmine but more… chemically. As if she’d heavily sprayed herself with body spray just before coming here. And yet it was like home. And they knew they wouldn’t remember this until it mattered. "Once I end it... I can have it back. I can be human again. Please. Let me end it."

Day 7: whispers, zelda/link (breath of the wild & tears of the kingdom)

all their words for glory

The court gossip was insufferable in the past, but it seems that even without the court gossip had stuck around. A hundred years later, and all anyone could whisper about was who Zelda was going to marry. It seemed that everyone had this strange idea that Link and her had a secret wedding in the past - treating it as if it was a done deal. Unfortunately, it made things awkward for her, someone who had not thought about anything past survival. Standing in front of Link a hundred years later with her memories vaguely intact was just one part of restoring Hyrule. Now she had to deal with the gossips coming up with all sorts of stories about them behind her back; something which she'd hoped would have changed in the past one hundred years. At least this time the gossip wasn't about if she was a failed monarch who would never unlock her sealing powers.

After her transformation back into human after spending the past millennia as a dragon, the gossip mounted. Link, for her part, seemed unaware of the gossip surrounding the two of them. Or she didn't care. She still stood by her side, a steady presence that Zelda could not bear to think of one day losing. She tried to not think about how one day, Link would find someone that she'd be interested in romantically. One day, Link would find someone that was not a duty bound obligation to be around. It shattered her heart every time she thought of it, and she tried her best to suppress it. Still, she regularly had nightmares that during the time she was trapped with Calamity Ganon for those hundred years or during the time as a dragon, Link had met someone else. The idea of coming back to it tormented her regularly, and she had to admit: it was embarrassing to be this hung up on her knight. It was even more embarrassing that everyone could see it.

Link, meanwhile? Link was under the impression they were already married. Sure, they held no formal ceremony, but what was marriage if not a sacred pact to be by that person's side forever? Link had no intention of seeing anyone else. She was bound by fate to the princess, yes, but she had chosen to stay. She'd make that same choice a million times if she had to. If she'd realized that Zelda ever had a doubt about her fidelity, she'd have been gutted. And yet Link went about her day, unaware of the whispers that flitted about... and if she knew, she wouldn't have cared.

None of it mattered, did it? If people wanted to whisper, then they would whisper. When Zelda asked what Link's future plans were, she grinned and pointed at Zelda. To her great surprise, Zelda began to cry. "You don't have to stay by my side forever, you know," she said, taking her hands into hers. "I know that you didn't get the chance to choose this, and you're welcome to take another path if you desire it."

Link tilted her head in confusion. Where else would she go? Everything had been for her. When she first tossed her sword aside in the woods, over a hundred years ago now, it had been all for her. It was always for her. When the gloom appeared, all that mattered was keeping her safe - the kingdom was secondary. Maybe she should be more ashamed in admitting it, but she would have sacrificed the kingdom had it meant that Zelda would be safe. No one else in this entire world mattered so long as she existed. Link reached up to cup a hand to Zelda's cheek, gently wiping the tears away. She took her hands back to sign, I wouldn't want to take any path that would take me away from your side, princess. She got down on one knee, crossing her hand across her chest with her head bowed - the promise of fidelity, of love, of forever by her side. I would stay forever by your side if you would allow me.

It all came into sharp focus in that moment. The whispers that followed them might've had it right when they spoke about how they couldn't imagine a better couple. Zelda reached out to pull Link back up, shaking her head. "It's only fair I do it back," she said softly, getting on one knee, mirroring Link's movements when she swore her fidelity. "I would stay forever by your side if you would allow me. Please, let me be yours forever."

The next thing she knew, Link was kissing her and she allowed herself to get lost in this one perfect moment in forever. Let the court whisper.

Day 8: undead, rose tyler/clara oswald

can't you see it on the horizon?

From the minute Rose Tyler had met Clara Oswald, she'd been dead. Over and over again, it kept happening. Like the God of Death Sutekh was following her, finding her at every point in time just to cut the cord short at the same age. Deep into the time vortex, Rose Tyler's slightest flex of power could raise the dead with a singular catch: there had to be a time they would survive. And for Clara Oswald, there was never any other end. Hundreds of her across time and space, living and dying. And yet somehow she was utterly invisible.

The mystery of Clara was that she was always dead, and yet she was also always alive. The same wide brown eyes that haunted Rose everywhere she went - like Clara's eyes was surrounding her, demanding to know why she kept dying, why Rose couldn't save her. Vaguely, she remembered it so long ago, another life... standing in front of the Doctor, asking how she saved... the memory went hazy. For her sanity, timelines were compartmentalized, keeping her from going too deep into the recesses of her own mind. Could that be classified as a form of memory loss? She didn't know and frankly, she didn't care. What she wanted to know was how Clara Oswald kept showing up. The Doctor, for her part, was just as interested in the mystery of the undead that seemed to be following them.

Rose flicked through the photos of Clara Oswald across history on the TARDIS's small screen, frowning. "Even when we're not there, she's there," Rose said, glancing up at the Doctor. "Well... just... us. As a team. She's always there when you were there... or when I..." She trailed off, heading back to the monitor. Neither of them liked bringing up the brief period when the Doctor was trapped in a parallel world with her mum. Neither of them liked to think about what Rose willingly left behind to chase this life. It was simply something that they did not discuss if they could help it. "Anyway. Clara Oswald. Always the same age... always the same appearance... Just like Gwen, remember? Except... no time rift to explain it. It's like death becomes her."

The Doctor was frowning, arms crossed in the chair. With the Ponds departure, she'd been sulking and hadn't found a reason to leave the TARDIS. No matter where Rose took her... well, she understood. Yet if Rose stood still for too long, she feared that she'd become overwhelmed by her choice to leave her mother. Was she dead like Clara kept becoming? Did she live a happy life without her? At one point, she would've thought it'd be impossible for her mother to have been happy without her around. And yet now, she needed to believe that Pete had made Jackie happy in the end. With how fast that universe ran compared to here... she put that thought of her head. "You want to investigate this, don't you? Wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that she's pretty is it?"

Her cheeks got hot as she rolled her eyes. "You're the one who said it, not me," she said, putting the monitor away. "Look, you can stay here and sulk. I, however, am going to ask this Clara Oswald if she recognizes me. If she doesn't...."

"Then this Clara exists independently of the other two Claras, who also seemed unaware of the other," the Doctor parsed, sighing. "Alright, fine. I've been working on it as well. It just... doesn't make any sense! Dalek space shape, Oswin Clara Oswald. Death by transformation into a Dalek. Another Clara in ancient Feudal Japan. Death by war. Yet another in Victorian London. Death saving children. Everywhere we go, we keep seeing the same face. And whenever I start seeing the same face -"

She stopped mid rant, now standing less than a few feet away from Rose. They both knew what it meant: something was coming, something that was dangerous. The same face over and over again was always a warning. And this time she came bringing death with her. Every Clara that Rose met, it felt like there was something in the universe binding them tight together. If Rose was life, then Clara was death, and one simply could not have life without also having death. "Death and life are two sides of the same coin," Rose reminded her. Once just a girl who wanted to save her father, turned into a living weapon, and finally becoming a myth of her own, Rose Tyler had spent far too long grappling with Death. "If you want to live, you have to die at some point. We all die. It's just that she...." She pulled on her jacket, tongue in tooth grin. "Well, no point in musin. I'm going to go meet this Clara. You can stay mopin if you'd like, but I will get something done."

Rose left the TARDIS into the brisk cold air, and she recognized where they were - London. How was it always London? Granted, she almost never went to this part of London - no reason to. It was entirely filled with middle class folks who owned one of the semi-detached home, and probably had a lot of nasty things to say about people like her. Well, time to meet the Clara of modern London, she thought as she knocked on the door. The same woman she'd met over and over again answered the door with a soft grin. "Uh, hello, can I help you?"

It was then that Rose realized she had no lie ready for this specific moment. All she had on her was her cell phone that she hadn't used in a couple hundred years and a couple of space junk she certainly couldn't show someone in... what year was this? It seemed modern, but then again, there was hardly a difference between decades. "I'm er...," she ruffled through her pockets, pulling her phone out. "I'm a sales woman, and I'm uh. Selling phones."

Clara looked at her as if she'd grown a second head. "You're selling outdated phones?" Clara tilted her head, laughing. "Sorry, best of luck selling that but I kind of have a better phone so."

She was about to close the door, and Rose caught the door. "Okay, I lied," she said, reaching into her pocket again for the psychic paper. Quick, think of a lie, Rose thought, internally panicking. Outdated phone was at least a clue to the time. "I'm actually a building inspector. See?"

"Uh, why lie," Clara asked, opening the door with a roll of her eyes. Rose stepped inside with a sense of relief. She'd at least made it past the door. Clara snatched the psychic paper, reading what had appeared on it. "Whatever, come in. Just so you know, this isn't my home, er... Dame Rose Tyler? You need knighthood to be a building inspector these days?"

Rose looked around at the house - a decent sized family home, a staircase that led into the upstairs, a modest living room, and a lovely kitchen. The exact kind of house that Jackie would admire in catalogues despite the fact they'd never be able to afford it. Hopefully Jackie was enjoying Pete's mansion in that other universe, she thought absently. "Huh? Oh, no I just... got it because I'm the best at inspectin'. Inspected Windsor Castle, I'll have you know," Rose said, and instantly regretted it. "Anyway, who owns this house if not you?"

"The children's parents," she replied, heading into the kitchen and putting on the kettle. "Are you going to want some tea? Should I pretend I didn't see you when the parents ask?"

There was a mischievous sparkle in Clara's eyes, as if she was aware of something that Rose wasn't. It reminded her exactly of the barmaid and governess in the 1800 ish... somewhere mid-century if she was pressed for a year, not that she could remember which it was. "Er, yeah, I'll have some tea. And uh. No, it's fine, no reason to be alarmed," Rose said, glancing up along the walls and trying to think what would help sell her lie. "If you aren't related to them, why are you here?"

"You ask a lot of questions for a building inspector," Clara said as she made the tea. Rose had the feeling she'd been in this position before, but couldn't recall how it was so familiar. After a few moments, Clara emerged out of the kitchen with two cups of tea. "If you're here to case the place, I'll absolutely pretend I wasn't here. Not interested in protecting anything more than the children, after all."

Rose's eyes widened, and she shook her head. "Not here to rob you, promise," she said, taking the cup of tea Clara offered her. "Can I get some sugar and milk, please?"

Clara went back into the kitchen, and came back out a few moments later with sugar and milk. "Have as much as you'd like," she said as she sat down in one of the larger chairs. "Children are at school. I was about to go try to get on the WiFi to get my own school work done, but I'm hopeless with computers. Would you happen to be able to help me with that? Computer's in my bedroom."

Once again, despite the fact that Rose knew that this Clara could go up in smoke just like all the others before, all she could see was how very alive she was. There was a promise of flirtation in the gaze she held, a small smirk on her face - all the ways Clara looked at her before. Even though she should know better, Rose still smirked right back. "Oh. I think I know a thing or two about computers. Lead the way."

Day 9: ufo, rose tyler/unknown doctor

older but never wiser

A strange object flitting across the night sky might not have been a cause for alarm before Rose had met the Doctor. Ages ago, really. Lifetimes ago, if she was honest with herself. At some point, she might forgive herself for all the choices she had made that had caused her to wind up back on Earth with Jack's team. It'd been just a stupid row that Rose couldn't even remember the basis for anymore, and now she missed the Doctor with everything she had. Luckily, she had Jack with her. Jack, who also understood the pain of being left behind - even if he was surprised to find it happened to Rose, too. Normally Rose would be under the impression it was just another work call until Jack entered with a grin on his face. "It's her," he confirmed. "The Doctor's comin hot. Seems to be a crash landing. Wanna go say hi?"

Rose grinned, nodding. After everything, she just wanted to run back home to the Doctor. Apologize and let whatever happened go into the past. She ran towards the TARDIS, thinking back on the first time she ever entered it. She didn't know she was stepping on a spaceship - a proper spaceship - at that time. Since then, she'd been up in the sky so many times before. She'd gotten so lucky that she had someone to tell what happened. She wondered how much crazier she'd feel if there was no one around who knew what it was like to be taken up there, to see it all. It might've felt like it never happened at all, and she didn't know how she'd cope with that if that was the case.

Except when she finally made it to the TARDIS, the face looking at her was an utterly new face. The new woman grinned, fresh regeneration haze all over her as she yelled, "Rose!" She bolted forwards, throwing her arms around the shell-shocked Rose. "It's so good to see you again.. Wait! When is this for you?"

"I... Uh. I guess... first rough argument," she said, suddenly very aware that this was not her Doctor, and they were out of sync. This might one day be her Doctor, but this was not the person she'd been waiting for. "I'm... sorry, but. You're not my Doctor. I'm... not your Rose, either, I think."

The Doctor laughed, rolling her eyes at that. "You're always my Rose," she said, shaking her head and immediately collapsing. Of course the regeneration was going wrong. What was Rose supposed to now?

She rolled her eyes, picking the Doctor up and half carrying her back home as the Doctor slowly came to. “You know, it would be just like you to have a row with me then go off and change your face,” Rose grunted, sighing as she pulled the Doctor into her established flat. Mentally, she thought about how this meant at some point they were gonna have another fight. Thankfully, between Kate and Jack, she knew she at least had a reliable place on Earth to go back to. “You asked ‘when’ this was for me. I thought I’d go back on the TARDIS and we’d never split up again after that.”

“Ah,” she said, clearly disoriented. “No, no, no. Sometimes you leave because we’re having a fight and you want time to yourself. But this time… you’d left to investigate something. Shouldn’t tell you what it is.” She grinned, leaning forward. “But as an older Doctor, I can tell you that I utterly regret that fight. I’m going to come back soon, promise. What day is it?”

“September 9th,” Rose said automatically. “Uh, year is 2025. So the you that is in sync with me…”

“September 28th,” she said with a nod, groaning. “Don’t tell past me I told you that you’d be here. Just tell her that you knew I’d be there. I was wondering up until now how you knew, though.”

Rose grinned, launching forward to hug the Doctor tightly. It was the confirmation she needed that everything was going to be okay. And while she could hardly wait, she could wait for forever. After all: she’d spent the first nineteen years of her life waiting for her.

Day 10: clairvoyence, isis ishtar/mai kujaku

Mai never once truly believed in psychic powers, even when doing her shtick. It was always a con designed to throw people off their game. She didn't know what to do when coming face to face to a genuine psychic. She'd lost the Duel, and the woman in front of her didn't seem to even break a sweat doing it. Mai furrowed her brow, shaking her head. "I still don't believe you could actually see the future," Mai said, trying her best to believe it as she flicked her hair. "Well, fine then. Here's a locator card and my rarest card. Whatever."

"I don't need your rarest card," Isis said, taking the locator card. "Besides, you still have time to make it to the finals. I can't wait to see you Duel there."

"I don't need your pity," Mai half snarled, putting her card back in her deck. If she was honest, she was a bit offended that Isis didn't seem to want her rarest card. "I'll get there alright, but not because of your psychic shtick. I've pulled that before myself, you know. I'll figure out how you seemed to know my cards."

"I already told you how I did it," Isis said as she touched her necklace. The engraving on it seemed familiar, even if Mai couldn't quite place where she'd seen it before. And really, what did it matter where she'd seen it before? Mai pictured the two of them in a boxing ring, and in this image, she never once landed a hit on her. She didn't doubt that Isis could somehow read her opponent. Maybe she saw something in her face when it came to her hand? She wasn't exactly an unknown Duelist - people knew who she was and what she played. Perhaps she was easier to read than she thought - a fatal flaw that she hadn't considered until now. "Nothing you could have done would have changed the outcome. I was destined to win this match between the two of us."

"And what if that necklace told you that you're destined to lose," Mai spat, feeling like she was spitting out her blood at this woman's feet. Now what had this woman done to warrant this level of intensity? She wanted to both strangle her and kiss her. She wanted to hit her and drag her to the bedroom. She did neither, standing still instead. "Would you follow that necklace to your own demise?"

For once, Isis looked rattled and Mai smirked. Seems she could still manage to be unexpected even now. "Perhaps I would. I will meet you again, Kajuku Mai."

Isis walked off, and Mai growled. She wanted to yell after her, but well, Isis had claimed they'd meet again at the finals. Game on, Isis.

Day 11: bones, diana kettering/ophelia copperfield

cross your thoughtless heart

The skulls lined the walls of the basement, and Diana wished she could say that she felt something about it. Instead, it was a feeling of relief that washed over her. She wasn't crazy - there was something wrong with this house. They were history, embedded into the walls as decor. Diana reached out to touch the skulls, and was shocked that they felt like rock. "They were dipped in concrete before being mounted onto the wall," Ophelia explained, and she was quieter than normal.

As if noise could raise the dead, Diana thought absently, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. A chunk of the wall was missing, and Diana motioned to it. "What happened here?"

"Your father was having it demolished," she said. "Said he'd always hated this room, and that it felt like the skulls were judging him for his existence. I think he just didn't like to confront where his family came from... where my family came from too. He liked to think he wouldn't have been like them."

Diana snorted. A man who ran away from his family in exchange for the promise of wealth certainly would've fit perfectly with the men who did this. It seemed like she finally found the reason she always felt uncomfortable in this house - like she was being watched. She shook off that thought. She was determined to not be her father. He was a coward, and he was scared of the history that laid underneath the house. "Like the slave shacks he had demolished then," Diana remarked, thinking of all the things about this house that her father clearly liked to avoid. Then again... was she any different from her father here? The house creaked, and Diana ignored it. If it was slightly too cold in her room, she turned up the heater. Ignoring the house's quirks and history was all she knew how to do. "I... suppose I would've done the same."

Ophelia was staring at her, and Diana felt like her stare was piercing through her, cutting her to the bone. Often times, it felt like Ophelia was trying to figure something out about her and Diana didn't like that. She liked her secrets, and she liked to keep them to herself. Sharing did not come natural to her. All her life, she was expected to own her mistakes and achievements. She'd never had a chance to learn how to share. Growing up, no one said anything. Uncle Sterling avoided talking about her father, and she was lucky if her ma was coherent for a full day. When her ma was coherent, she was angry and bitter about her father's death. Her ma treated the universe as if it had conspired against her to steal her husband from her. If she knew the truth, it would destroy her. So instead of telling her ma the truth, she lied through her teeth about how she was on a work retreat and will visit when she can.

"Are you ever going to tell your ma the truth about where you are?"

It was one sentence, and Diana felt like a precision hit happened to her. She looked up at the wall of skulls again, and imagined her own embedded into the concrete. She wondered what went through the mind of the person who first installed this wall, and her stomach lurched. Did the person who did this even view the people whose skulls he mounted as human? "One day," she said softly. "I've told Uncle Sterling where I was..." She imagined the skulls with the flesh on them, and she felt dizzy. "This wall has to go. The skulls should be buried with the rest of their bodies. Do we know where they are?"

Ophelia paused for a moment before shaking her head. "We don't know where the rest of their bodies are, no," she said softly. "We can bury them where we know their families might've been buried, but that's the best we can do."

"Then have that done," Diana said as she turned to head to the stairs. "I don't wanna see those skulls here again."

Day 12: ritual, yusei fudo/aki izayoi

blink of a crinkling eye

Mornings were quiet.

Aki would wake up, and Yusei would already be up for hours now. Sometimes she was in the garage tinkering away, other times she was making breakfast for the two of them. What Yusei did in the morning this early was unclear. All she knew was she would get up, brush her teeth and get dressed, then head to find Yusei. This morning Yusei was in the kitchen making oatmeal with cinnamon and eggs. She'd already cut up some strawberries and pushed them to Aki silently with a soft smile. "Tea?"

She nodded, stretching with a yawn. The light from the windows were already filtering in, and Yusei had turned on a fan. The end of August fading into September was always a little warm most days, though some days it could be chilly. Today it blazed with the fire of something that wasn't quite ready to end, but it was nice and cozy inside their home. Yusei made sure the fans were on, ready for the change in temperature. She was good at being prepared like that. "Did you enjoy your morning?"

Yusei nodded as she turned the kettle on. She'd made coffee for herself - Aki could smell it lingering in the air. This was morning, and could be morning on any day of the week, on any day of the year. Peace, at last.

This was their ritual.

Day 13: mirror, violet foxglove/karma carter

wasting all your faith on me

Violet Foxglove was a mirror to the worst of Hollywood.

She was always hungry, always desperate, and always had a reason why she needed to do what she'd done. Karma could've sworn that she was nothing like Violet, and yet something kept dragging her back. There she was, an impossible beauty draped in jewels and sequins - a testament to consumerism. Whether it was the jewels up for grabs or Violet herself, Karma didn't know. Not that she could say much either. The same event, and Karma was dressed to the nines in brands she had to memorize for when she was asked "who are you wearing" by eager reporters looking for a scoop. All of them were vultures, and they were willing to touch her without any permission asked. This was the world they lived in, and Karma Carter couldn't say that she hated the attention.

Her life was easy because of everything that her mother and father had worked for. Her mother assured her constantly they didn't have to worry about anything, and she believed her. This was who she was. She was elegance and beauty, the new queen that sat at the very top of everything. Karma didn't ask about who came before her. She didn't want to know. If she asked, she'd find out why the crown was rusted with blood. She heard stories, and yet she was still pleased with all she'd managed to achieve in such a short time.

Karma Carter was a mirror of the worst of the modeling industry.

Stick thin, impossibly tall, with sharp angles everywhere. She was vapid, with no thoughts in her head. Violet could've sworn she was nothing like Karma, and yet something kept dragging her back. She pranced across the catwalk with a regal air to her - queen of her own domain, and a testament to consumerism. Whether it was the designer outfits she peddled or Karma herself, Violet didn't know. Not that she could say much either. The cameras flashed, eager to write their little think pieces about how different Violet was now. They grasped at her without any permission asked, eager to come up with their own stories about her. This was the world they lived in, and Violet Foxglove couldn't say she hated the security it provided.

Her family was taken care of, and her sister's school was paid for. She had her reasons, and no one else needed to be privy to them. And it worked out for her, hadn't it? Sure, she had no privacy. Sure, she moved in the shadows to avoid having people stalk and follow her. She twitched when people touched her, treating her like she'd heal their wounds. Didn't they know that she was just as sick as they were? No one worried that maybe she wanted to fling herself off something very tall. She could picture her own guts lining the street, and she wondered who would cheer at the sight.

They were mirrors to each other, but neither of them wanted to see it. Drunk, in the dark, they embraced for the night knowing in the light they'd pretend it never happened. No one needed to know.

Day 14: omen, misty lola/carly carmine

in my head, i do everything right

Misty could see it in Carly's face - she was destined to die. She tried to not regard it with sadness. Death was inevitable, and it came for everyone. Of course, considering that she herself was already the walking dead, perhaps she just saw omens everywhere. She could see it in Carly now - the looming shadow from the depths of hell that longed to snatch her away. Something tied Misty to her - she didn't know what it was. Perhaps eventually she would understand the omens that she could see surrounding the young reporter, but for now all she could do was warn her that her time was almost up.

She just didn't know what that would look like. She couldn't have imagined the violence that would have happened, and that the reason she'd become like her was because of the unanswered questions. Questions she could've answered if she'd known. She'd hoped by turning Carly away, she could save her. Omens, however, had a funny way of working.

Trying to prevent the inevitable always led to destruction. Misty had known that. And yet she'd hoped by some miracle that it'd be different this time. That by denying Carly the truth, she'd be able to spare her. That shutting the door in her face would somehow make her give up on this investigation that'd lead to her doom. She couldn't have known that Carly would be foolish enough to go to the Arcadia to find the answers herself. After all, Misty already knew who'd caused Toby's death, didn't she? Carly, in all her undead glory, warned her that the truth might be different from what she'd believed.

An omen, but was it for Misty or for Carly? Misty didn't know, and truly, she didn't care which it was so long as she got her revenge. Her revenge, that as far as she was concerned, was a long time coming. And yet when she was with Carly, she could almost lose focus. Carly, who didn’t know what she was brought back for, with no clear reasoning for revenge.

The Arcadia movement bound them together in a way Misty hadn’t expected. Just like Toby, Carly had died here. It almost slowed her - made her stop to reconsider the path she was on. As if Carly herself was the omen that something was not right in the course she was on. As if the world was begging Misty to reconsider her actions.

Maybe if she’d listened, she wouldn’t be staring down a truth that rocked her to her very core.

Day 15: paranormal investigation, mai kujaku/aileen rao

nothin if not consistent

Mai did not believe in ghosts, but Aileen did. And well, she didn't just believe in ghosts: she liked to go ghost hunting. She wasn't sure what Aileen expected to find in the run down houses that she dragged her to, but so far they'd turned up empty at every corner. Was there really any point in continuing to go to these places? Well, somehow she got dragged into planning a trip to a haunted mansion for their anniversary. "If we for real get haunted on our anniversary, I'm breaking up with you," Mai deadpanned as Aileen went over their bags. "I'm serious this time. Bad enough Yugi keeps telling us about how he was possessed for a while."

"You're the one who keeps hanging out with people who believe in ghosts," Aileen retorted with a teasing grin. A sparkle in her eyes - she wasn't taking any of this seriously. "Besides, if we get for real haunted, you owe me."

"What?"

"Remember? You said that if I could prove ghosts were real, you'd owe me," she said, zipping up their suitcases for travel. "And I believe that you said you always pay your debts."

She sighed, blowing her bangs out of her face. "Okay, yeah, I do recall saying something to that effect," she grumbled, remembering how Aileen asked what she'd win if she could prove ghosts were real. Not that she expected this trip to contain any actual haunting. For that to happen, ghosts would have to be real and they weren't. Except for the times they were in those old houses and it felt like something had her hairs standing on the back of her neck... almost like the time she'd passed out after losing at Battle City... and like the big blank missing memory she had from three days that felt like she emerged totally altered. "But since ghosts aren't real, I'm never going to have to pay up."

"If ghosts aren't real, then you have nothing to fear about this new house I want to explore," she teased, hopping into bed with her. "They say it's haunted by this person who had been killed."

A vengeful ghost. Not exactly Mai's idea of a fun time, but well... Aileen was right. Ghosts weren't real and they certainly weren't going to interrupt their nice day. "Fine," Mai said with a roll of her eyes. "But I'm telling you now: I'm not going to owe you anything but a good time. Let's go."

Day 16: possessed, link/zelda

where demons play

This wasn't supposed to be her job. This was her brave swordswoman's job. She read the legends back and forth - always the princess was hands off. She stayed in the castle or was trapped or otherwise occupied while the swordswoman of legend battled her way through tests of strength and wit, testing the balance between the Triforce in her as she clawed her way to the princess. Instead, Zelda was the one being tested. Was she a failure of a princess? Was she being punished for something? She didn't know, and she didn't want to think about that. Right now, Link was in danger. Her father was in danger. The entire country was in danger. She needed to have courage in the face of this, and she needed to prove her own balance in the Trifocre. That's what a hero is supposed to - have a balance of courage, power, and wisdom.

She'd cried enough over the fate of the kingdom that was now squarely in her hands. When she was thrown into the dungeon, she recalled the story of how the hero would often be painted as a villain by Ganondorf's forces. She didn't believe it until her own knights had turned against her, accusing her of being the reason why her father was taken. For a moment, she almost believed them.

Now she stood at the end of a long dungeon, having battled her way to the heart of it. She was battered, bruised, and she was near exhausted. When she saw the back of Link, her heart started to race. She was going to be fine. Except... something didn't seem quite right. "Link," she said, unbuckling her cloak. She could finally give it back to her. "I've kept... Link?" She felt unsettled the more steps she took into the chamber. And then Link turned to face her - and the sheer hatred in her eyes nearly knocked Zelda back. Still, she tried to reach her anyway. "Link?"

Link unsheathed her sword, and leaped forward. Instead of connecting with Zelda, her sword connected with a bed that Tri had summoned for her. "Princess, I do not think this is the Link you knew," the fairy advised as Link yanked back the sword. Her stomach lurched as it finally sunk in that Link had been trying to kill her. Her swordswoman of legend had attacked her - and even though she never connected an attack, it felt worse than if she'd actually been stabbed. "I suggest you fight for your life."

Zelda took a step back, shaking her head. "I need to get through to her," she argued, stopping yet another attack. "She has to be in there somewhere. Link, please, listen to me!"

The fight had begun, and what scared Zelda the most was that she didn't know how it was going to end. She couldn't bear the idea of her swordswoman dead in this chamber, and with every echo she threw Link's way, she cut through it like it was a minor annoyance. Link was courageous, relentless, and smart - all of which was now squarely targeted towards her. She could swear she heard Ganondorf's laughter rumbling through the chamber as she played defense, attempting for any sign of Link returning back to her.

Day 17: occult, ryo bakura/miho nosaka

nowhere i'd rather be

Deep in the woods, Bakura's small little cottage melted into the scenery - the wood matching the bark of the trees surrounding it perfectly. The windows twisted into natural shapes, with the leaves covering the roof of the cottage. If Miho hadn't been looking for it, she would have missed it. Just looking at it took effort and skill that a lesser witch might not have had. Good thing for Miho that she was no ordinary witch - just like she knew the witch in the cabin was also no ordinary witch. She'd met her in a shop ages ago, picking up something strange that Miho couldn't identify. She'd begged to learn from Bakura, and she'd agreed. She flushed as she thought of the long, thin, pale fingers Bakura had, and knocked on the door. She wasn't trying to think of all the other things her hands might be able to do, but the image of her hands on her hips was hard to shake.

The door swung open without Bakura standing there. Miho stepped over the threshold, and a polite coat hanger tapped on her shoulder, holding out its arms for her coat. She unbuckled it, and said, "Careful. It's hand dyed silk and mohair. It'd be expensive to replace it." The coathanger nodded, carefully hanging the coat on a road. Miho smiled, and nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Coathanger! Where's Bakura?"

It made a gesture towards further inside the cabin, and Miho went in the direction it gestured. Plants grew along the walls, and it was hard to tell if was just plants or if there was some sort of structure underneath. A mirror in the hallway seemed to reflect something that wasn't there, and Miho had no interest in staring at it for too long. It unsettled her enough to move past it quickly to a spiral staircase. "Come on in, Miho," a serene voice called from the upstairs. "I've got something that I'd like to show you."

The wood of the barrister was covered in ivy, and it was wet to the touch(as if someone has just freshly watered it), so Miho just went up the stairs with the hope that she didn't slip. As far as she could tell, the entire home was built as if it was meant to simply blend into nature. It was adorable, but utterly impractical in her opinion. Some objects on the wall radiated a positive joy, and others felt like they were there against their will. She could sense it - Bakura might come across as ditzy, but she had to be a powerful sorceress in her own right. It made her want her all the more - powerful, gorgeous, and utterly impossible. Miho licked her lips, eager to make a move. There was a delicacy to that - a first move had to be done in a way that minimized the chances of rejection. Bakura was smiling inside a room, and gave a light wave to Miho. She was pale - almost as pale as a vampire. The sharp canines could've been vampire teeth in another life. "Alright," Miho said, moving in closer. "What is it that you wanted to show me?"

Bakura smiled as she gestured to the collection of shrunken heads encased in a display made of wood and glass. Normally Miho didn't care much for the grotesque items, but as Bakura went over each of them, detailing how she came across them, Miho gained a new appreciation for them. She'd never truly love them, but she could admire how much Bakura loved them. "Are you listening," she asked, piercing through Miho's thoughts. "Do you like it?"

"Yeah, they're neat," she said with a grin, taking a step closer. It was now or never, she decided. And so her hands reached up to grip at Bakura's collar, yanking her to her. All thoughts of delicacy was thrown out the window as her lips collided with Bakura's, desperate to discover what a powerful woman like her would taste like. It was mainly a wintermint flavor, with some sort of earthy flavor that Miho couldn't name. Perhaps toothpaste and coffee? Tea? It didn't matter. It was something that she wanted to taste forever, she decided. Was it insane to see the future now? She could picture the way her life could fit in this cabin in the woods. "But I think you're more neat."

It took a moment before Bakura reacted, and Miho worried that she might've come across too strong again. Every second that passed felt like hours, and Miho had never thought it was possible for time to stretch like that. Instead of a proper reply, Bakura pulled Miho back to her, kissing her yet again. Miho finally allowed herself to indulge in thinking about what came next after this: forever.

Day 18: psychic, isis ishtar/mai kujaku

she is here to destroy you

It was all a trick, Mai decided after waking up on the blimp after the Battle City finals happened. She didn't need to know how any of it worked, actually. None of it mattered. Nothing mattered, actually. She felt like she left a part of her back on the ground when she stepped into the finals. Who she was before Battle City and who she was after were two wholly different people, and it felt like she had backslid. Isis had claimed she was a psychic - well, predict this, bitch, she'd thought as she moved through the motions. Self destruction was a familiar coat to pull on, and she wore it well. And she was desperate to feel something, anything.

Everything had gone black and white, and Mai knew that it was a world of cliches she was living in. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Isis there. She was getting sick of seeing that face over and over again. How had she managed to beat her? How had her brother managed to beat her? Both times, it had been them exploiting a weakness of hers. Did he learn it from her? Why did she seem to want to know everything about this woman that she'd barely met twice? Isis had embedded herself deeply into her consciousness and she was obsessed. It was unfortunate that Isis had also predicted that Mai would seek her out again, and now Mai was desperate to avoid it.

She didn't want Isis to be right. She didn't want to believe that her life could be predicted like that, by someone who pulled the same exact trick she had. And yet... the one thing Isis hadn't told her was that she knew that Mai would be stubborn about seeking her out too. It was why she wasn't surprised by how long it took Mai to finally text her. And she didn't even need to look at the phone to know exactly what Mai was demanding - another Duel. This time, admittedly, Isis didn't know how this would go. Mai had both changed and hadn't. If she played her cards right, Isis might just be prepared to be taken by surprise by her.

Day 19: underworld, tifa lockhart/aerith gainsborough

i can fell you all around me

Tifa swore she'd been here before, but her mind was blanking on when. She felt too serene, but something was tamping her emotions down, leaving her unable to react. Her mind could sense something wrong, and yet whatever was impacting her made it difficult to care. The contradictions were annoying. She felt like she needed to rest, actually. Just let whatever was ensnaring her take her away. Aerith was here too, and so inviting. She was smiling, like nothing was wrong. "Tifa," she said, and oh, she liked the way Aerith said her name. "It's good to see you again."

Except... no. This wasn't right, was it? Her mind was sluggish, trying to figure out what was so wrong about this scenario. Aerith smiling at her was fine - she did that all time. It hit her just a little too late. "We're in the lifestream," Tifa said, immediately looking around. It'd been obvious - Mako surrounded them. How had it eluded her? Whatever the reason, Tifa didn't like it. "We need to get out of here."

"Oh, I'm not going anywhere," Aerith said with a laugh. "Don't you remember what happened?"

Her stomach lurched as it all came rushing back: Aerith had died. And yet here she was, standing in front of her, fully alive. The two realities didn't make sense. Tifa knew there was only one way any of this made sense, but it wasn't an option she was quite willing to accept. Still, she had to ask. "Am I... dreaming?"

Aerith tilted her head thoughtfully, and Tifa recognized that look. It was the "it's complicated" expression - one that she wore whenever she was trying to best think of a way to explain any given situation. "Well, you see, I think something happened when you also fell into the Mako," Aerith said, tapping her chin. She grinned, and laughed, shaking her head. "Then again, what do you think?"

"I think that..." Tifa paused, trying to piece together the information she had. She could smell flowers in the air - ones she didn't have names for. That wasn't something that happened when she dreamed. She reached to press her hand to Aerith's, and was shocked by the fact it felt fully solid. She could smell and feel here, so perhaps it wasn't entirely a dream. It couldn't be real, but it couldn't be just a dream. "We both fell into the Mako. Together." Aerith nodded, stepping closer. She could feel warmth radiating off her like she was still alive, and her stomach churned. "Am I... dead?"

"Don't think so," Aerith said, pressing a feather light kiss to her lips. The floral perfume ensnared Tifa for a moment, grinding all thoughts to a halt. She could catch a whiff of Aerith's shampoo, and her hair brushed against Tifa's shoulder. "Nope. Definitely still alive."

"But you're not," Tifa said, shaking her head. "I saw it happen. You died. I can't be here with you, and not dreaming. But... this isn't like any dream I've ever had. You're... I don't like this."

Aerith's eyes went wide, and she dropped Tifa's hand. She wished she could cram the words back into her mouth and have Aerith's hand back in hers again. It'd been too long since she'd gotten to hold her in her arms, and she was desperate for her touch. It didn't matter what the truth was if she could stay here with Aerith. "Don't you dare think about that," she scolded. Tifa looked back up at Aerith, stunned at the reaction. She seemed genuinely upset by something. "You can't stay here. You have to go at some point, you know."

"So this place is real then," she countered, her eyes wide. If this place was real, then she had to stay here with Aerith. There was no point in going back if it meant she could be with the love she'd lost too young. She made an accusatory point to Aerith as she said, "You know where we are, and you're not telling me. Why won't you tell me where we are?"

"As I just said: you can't stay here. Technically... you're not even supposed to be here," she said softly, before giving a big smile. The same big smile she gave whenever she was really upset about something but trying to be brave. "I have things to do here. You have things to do before you can come back here. Tell Cloud to not be so miserable all the time for me, okay? And tell Zack... tell Zack I'm sorry I couldn't meet up with him."

It was too late that Tifa realized where they were, and that her time here was running out. She could hear her name being called by a frightened Cloud, even if she couldn't see him. Tifa rushed forward to give Aerith one last desperate kiss - one last kiss to last a lifetime - as she woke up to stare into a pair of Mako colored eyes that were not Cloud's. "Aerith wanted to tell you she's sorry."

Day 20: esp, anzu mazaki/mai kujaku

show me distraction even for just one night

There were whispers of a lady who could tell you who you'd marry, and she blew into town every other week. Every time, the line to her wagon was long and winding with desperate young maidens hoping to hear that they'll marry upwards. Fathers would be waiting on the other end to hear who their daughters would marry, and argue with the psychic if she predicted someone they didn't like. Anzu, however, did not care to know who she'd marry. She didn't care to know what men were hoping to covet her hand. What she wanted to know was if she would ever leave this small town. She dreamed of dances and a chance to show off her talents. She dreamed of a small artist studio with a lofted bed, with sunshine and plants surrounding her. And yet here she was, inside the strange witch's quarters. She looked nothing like Anzu pictured - a pretty blonde with wisteria colored eyes that had a spark in them. Her eyes raked over her, and she leaned forward. Her blonde curls went everywhere - wild and free. "You're not here to learn about who you're going to marry, are you?"

Anzu sank down into the oversized chair made of dark wood, and the thick cushions made her feel more comfortable than she had any right to. A strange smell ensnared her - something she'd never smelled in this tiny town. She could picture the city shop that the fortune teller would've found it in, and Anzu longed to join her there. She'd never thought that she'd picture wanting that with anyone. She'd spent more time wanting to get out that she'd never once considered what it'd be like to want to stay somewhere. The again... it was easy to imagine that kind of future when it was utterly impossible. "No, I'm not," Anzu said, and a haze soothed over her. Something about this place felt like a dream, even if somewhere in her mind she knew it was real. "I'm not.... interested in marriage. My parents want me to but..."

"You're not interested in any of the men they show you," the witch said with a wicked grin. She'd leaned forward, and Anzu couldn't help but glance down at her bosom - the corset she wore was indecent. Wearing something like that here would certainly get someone in trouble. She wanted the freedom that the witch had. "In fact, you find yourself disinterested in all the men in this village. You want to leave here, and nothing ties you here, does it?"

"Yes, I -"

"No, don't speak, hon," she said, and her fingertips lightly grazed along Anzu's neck. Her breath hitched as she leaned into her touch, and the witch's hand now touched her cheek. She felt heat rise to her cheeks, and her lips parted. "I can see it. You find yourself staring at women for longer than is proper. You dream of a big city where you can blend into the crowd. Perhaps with some form of art to carry yourself without a man. You'd like to be run off with someone very close to you."

Anzu's eyes widened, and she wanted to deny it. Shame rolled over ever so briefly before that haze came back. Was the witch's face always this close to hers? She could see the gloss of her lips, the light flick of liner across her eyes, and it would haunt her dreams. Anzu's mind immediately drifted into imagining what it would be like if the witch actually closed the gap and gave her the very first kiss of her life. She wondered if it would be like how the books made it seem like kisses were supposed to feel like. She'd never wanted someone to kiss her so bad before. Girls weren't supposed to want this, after all. The witch smiled, and then the haze dissipated. She was standing outside the wagon, and before she knew it, the psychic had left. The smell of her perfume lingered, and Anzu was desperate to see her again. She turned to a maiden who had still been waiting and asked, "Do you know when she'll be back?"

"Didn't she already read you?"

She shook her head, and lied, "She said she needed multiple sessions with me. Said something about how it wasn't clear."

"That can happen?" The maiden's eyes widened, and Anzu knew she was thinking of the horror of not knowing who she'd marry. "Well um. She should be back in a month's time from what the rest of the travelers with her said. But sometimes she comes back sooner. I hope she'll have something for you next time!"

In the month lead up to the fortune teller's return, rumors spread quickly of Anzu's failure to be told the name of her future husband. Wives who found bliss because of the witch would whisper as she walked past, and fellow maidens would offer their condolences about her not finding a husband. None of them knew that at night, Anzu found herself dreaming of the witch's touch upon her skin. Her perfume became a memory, something she desperately clung to. She needed to see her again.

The fortune teller blew into town with the gusto of a storm's tempest, and Anzu was granted the ability to go first by the other maidens who felt sorry for her. They smiled and wished her luck on obtaining her husband, and Anzu didn't have the heart to tell them that she'd never have a husband. "You lied," the witch said, not even bothering to face her. There was no sign of a window she could have peered out of to see what had happened or who came next. The familiar haze was settling in. "You know I have a reputation to keep up, don't you?"

Her lips were a deep cherry red and slick - a tempting promise of pleasure in them. All her inhibitions were lowered, and she moved forward to kiss the witch like she'd been dreaming of - her very first kiss. The only frame of reference she had were stories that claimed this happened between a man and a woman, and how it was supposed to feel just like it felt now. Inexplicable, and perfect. The witch's hands were on her hips, and Anzu gasped as she pinned her to the wall. "I have a prediction of my own," Anzu finally gasped as her hands tangled into the fortune teller's wild curls. "You're going to take me far away from this little village, and I'm going to become your apprentice. Am I right?"

"You're going to tell your parents that I couldn't see a man in your future because you have the sight," the witch said with a light smirk as she pulled away. "You are instead going to learn to be a priestess at my behest. Tell them I entrusted you with my name, Mai Kujaku." She handed Anzu a wet rag. "Clean yourself up, and come back in an hour. We'll leave to the city then."

Anzu nodded, cleaning herself up. "I'll go pack a bag," she said with a soft smile. The perfume now lingered across her collarbone - as if she was marked even without the lipstick. "I'll be back."

Day 21: werewolf, crow hogan/sherry leblanc

come be a loner

The estate sprawled out before her, and she couldn't see the house in the distance. This was where she transformed into the beast every full moon, and lost her mind into the woods. The moon was not up in the air yet, meaning she had a few moments of sanity to work with. It didn't really matter, but she lived for these peaceful moments. The one thing to be grateful for was that at least she was spared the inconvenience the monthly cramps her mother seemed to have. She wouldn't know what they were - they didn't speak of them, and Sherry LeBlanc wasn't going to be the one to breach that unspoken contract. Especially when her parents already tolerated her monstrosity and difference. She'd never be able to marry in this state since she never had her first bleed like all the other women had - whatever that meant.

All that she knows is they checked her white sheets frequently when she turned 13, and as she neared 19, they slowed checking before stopping altogether. Her first transformation came about at the same time she'd been expected to have her first bleed instead, and she woke up the next morning to her parents terrified and shocked. Next full moon, she was brought out to the edge of the estate and told she would be allowed to "play all night" out here. Instead, she passed out and woke up confused by how she ended up where she landed. The only reason she knew it was a beast she turned into was because of one of the servants daring to speak it with a level of terror. She was dismissed, and her parents comforted her by saying she was still their daughter, and to not worry her precious head with the fears of strangers.

Still, she knew if she wasn't their daughter, they would not have been so tolerant. Sherry had heard the name of her kind from behind closed doors with her father spatting the word like it was dirty, and she felt full of shame for who she was for the first time in her life. It wasn't her fault - she didn't know what happened to lead her to be a beast of the night. All she knew is that when she saw the silver moon rise on the horizon, she would lose her mind. And she welcomed it now like she hadn't when she was thirteen: a moment of escape from the day to day.

By contrast, they'd known about being a beast and it was all anyone talked about. Yusei and Jack cracked jokes about the monthly, and Crow joked about eating them if they pissed them off. Laughter and jokes was all they knew, really. While they were different from their sisters, they were like them in where it really mattered. As a group, they didn't know why Crow was so different from them but they didn't care. As far as Yusei and Jack were concerned, Crow was their sister who was sometimes a massive oversized beast. Another contrast between Crow and Sherry: Crow remembered being a wolf. It felt like freedom when they transformed, taking off into a night with vision designed for this. Food was theirs for the taking, and no one could stop them from destroying a cop car or two. They were sure to make sure before heading back home, they brought food for the kids.

This was an easy life as far as Crow was concerned. They just needed to ensure that everyone else could eat, and they were happy. From the day to day, most everyone knew that the beasts wandered among them, but only Yusei and Jack knew that Crow was one of them. Sure, they all were very aware what would happen to Crow if anyone found out that they were one of them. They'd heard the stories of the beasts being forcibly tracked, and that some of them were even put down. There was a lot of trust between the sisters - they would all go down for each other.

Everything, as far as Crow as concerned, was perfect. At least until they made the mistake of trespassing onto the Leblanc land in wolf form. They'd heard of wolves that were out of control - it was the whole reason people feared creatures like them - but they'd never seen it before. A beautiful golden wolf snarled at them, in a defensive position - defending her territory, Crow had to assume. They snarled in response, not wanting to rise to the challenge but not wanting to seem like a coward either. The golden wolf lunged forward, tearing through their defenses with a fervor that suggested there was no human mind behind the attacks: pure instinct was driving this beast. That was a surprise in itself: werewolves were supposed to have a level of humanity in their mind.

Crow didn't want to fight with another person, so most of their movements were to dodge the other wolf's attacks. They managed to escape the fight, sliding out under the fence they should've never gone past. Their mind was racing as they wondered what werewolf had carved out a segment of the Leblanc estate as her own, and they needed a chance to go back to see the human form.

The Leblanc Estate was well guarded, designed to keep trespassers off the land. It was why Crow wanted to meet the wolf that had dared to cross the boundaries to stake a claim. And yet when they returned to see who turned back into human form in the morning light, they were shocked to see none other than Sherry Leblanc, passed out under the very same tree she'd attacked them at. The sunlight filtered in from the tree, casting a halolike effect on her. Crow crouched down to rouse her awake, not caring that they still had the stink of nature all over them. "Hey, are you okay? You should probably head back to bed... unless you wanna attack me again."

Sherry's eyes fluttered open, consciousness slowly returning to her. Her cheeks turned pink, and she looked around wildly. "I'm so sorry if I hurt you," she said quickly, her words laced with a light French accent. "I just... who are you? Why are you here?"

Crow laughed. "Like I said - just a girl whose throat you tried to rip out last night," they said with a light wink. "But it's okay. You didn't cause any harm."

"You're also a wolf," Sherry said, hackles up again. She was glaring at Crow, acting as if she was a wounded animal trying to hide her bloody paw from someone who only wanted to help. Once again, her stance was defensive, and they could see the traces of the wolf in her. "Wait.. how do you remember what you did last night? That's not possible. No one remembers what they did as a beast."

"Well then. Looks like I have a lot of explaining to do, then."

Day 22: moonlight, violet foxglove/karma carter

least the dolls are beautiful

When all the cameras stopped flashing and when the party came to an end, Violet Foxglove was alone on the terrace in the pitch dark. The pitch dark was good. No one would recognize her out here in the moonlight. For the first time in years, she could be normal. She gazed up at the full moon overhead, the chandelier earrings twinkling. In the flashing lights, the diamonds and sequins sparkled. In the moonlight, they only glistened. Her sister would want to know all the juicy gossip tomorrow - who was there, whose outfit was trash, and who was feuding with who. She had the feeling that her sister then spread that gossip in the halls of the private school she paid for, but she didn't dare to ask. It was the closest she could be with her sister over shopping trips in malls after they closed while the employees glared at her for keeping them from going home. She couldn't blame them for hating her for that.

She glanced over the edge of the terrace, idly wondering if a fall from this height would kill her or if it would just make headlines. She could see them now - starlet has accident, was she drinking too much? Did the hatred of losing that award drive her to this? And it was enough to keep her feet firmly planted where they were. She could hear heels clicking behind her, to her. She didn't turn around, but she could smell Karma's perfume in the air. "Thought I'd find you here," she said softly, her hand at her lower back in such a delicate way that it could be mistaken for a friend supporting a friend. "Are you okay?"

For a second, Violet imagined what it would be like if this was 1952 instead of 2008, and was almost distressed to realize how similar the scene would be. Maybe a costume swap, maybe Karma wouldn't be a lingerie model, but it was still the same scene. The way both of them moved in the dark, hoping that no one would see them. The award was only vaguely on her mind now. "Who cares," Violet said, shaking her head. If they didn't want to award her album, well, that was her fault. She didn't make a good enough album. "Clearly they didn't like this one. I'll just make a better album and get it next year."

Karma was now next to her, rubbing her back. Those eyes - lined heavily with Khol - always knocked Violet off her feet. Grassy green most days, but in the moonlight, it was a more subtle green. She almost swore she saw into the very depths of Karma's soul - how could she have ever thought that Karma was anything but good? It was like a goddess had deigned to come support her after the loss. She reached out to cup her cheek, and her thumb lightly rubbed her cheek. Violet pulled the fur coat around her tighter, and the walls started to crumble down. "The album you made this year was good. Fans liked it, and I know I liked it," she said gently. "The other album was just more popular. That doesn't make it better."

Violet tilted her head, trying to understand what Karma was trying to tell her. Their entire world hinged on being liked by everyone. She wondered if she could afford to not care about the awards. Capitol Records had a note in the contracts somewhere about awards, and she couldn't remember it when Karma was staring deep into her soul like this. She wanted to believe that she could be the kind of person that didn't care about awards. And yet she knew that on some fundamental level, she would be forced to care about them. Prior to meeting Karma, that wasn't an issue. She'd always been a competitive person by nature. She wanted to win, she wanted to be on top, she wanted to be the best. It was hard to remember that was who she was in the moonlight, along with the most beautiful woman that she'd ever seen. Where she didn't have to be tough as nails, ready to strike to remain on top. "If I thought that way every time I went to record, I would eventually stop being the best."

"Being the best doesn't mean caring about what others think," Karma said with a roll of her eyes. "God, Violet, sometimes you are so fuckin thick. Who cares what the other people think? You're Violet Foxglove. Everyone moves out of their way when you come walking because you are the fuckin top bitch of the industry. They didn't award your album because they want anything to keep you in your place. They think you're rising too fast, and they wanna hold you back. Don't let them hold you back."

She blinked at this. She'd felt like she was stuck inside a boiling pot for a while now, but she hadn't considered that rising up would lead to others not wanting to acknowledge her as a powerforce. She was just a girl, wasn't she? What was there to be scared of? "I'm just... me," Violet said, shaking her head. The twinkling of the diamonds clinked in her ear, reminding her of the wealth literally dripping from her that she didn't own. She'd have to give them back to the jeweler or pay for it. Despite the string of number ones and sold out arenas, she was still passing the money around to her family and at the end of the day, couldn't afford the price tag on the earrings she wore to these shows. She didn't even want to ask how much they cost. "Like. I'm just a girl who makes pop music. Who'd be afraid of me?"

Karma laughed, shaking her head. "Oh my God, you really don't know," she said, sounding aghast. "Don't you get it? You're not just a girl. It was cute when you were a teenage girl making little teeny bops for the teens. But you're twenty now, and you're not a little girl anymore. Same way it was cute when I was my dad's little girl, following him around in the magazine rooms and modelling those stupid Kids Gap outfits and LL Bean shit. But when I was twenty-one, something changed when I showed an interest in designing what I wore and showed that I was a woman with my own mind." Karma motioned to her mind, and for the first time, Violet saw something in Karma that she'd written off before. She hadn't wanted to see it: they were the same. "They're scared of you because you aren't slowing down. You're hungry, and you wield your audience unapologetically. You don't back down when putting out an album. I heard the stories. They call you a bitch because you're that fuckin bitch. And by thinking of yourself as just a girl, you're letting them win. Don't let those bastards tell you that you made a shit album: double down on what you like. On who you are as a person. That's the best advice I can give you to surviving in this stupid town."

Until now, Violet had been so sure that she was just a normal girl who had a strange job. The way Karma was staring at her, desperate to break through to her suggested otherwise. Karma was also now much too close for comfort. She could count every eyelash on her face, trace the outline of her lips, and see the way the makeup sat on her face after hours of wear. "Would people really vote against an album they liked just to make me feel like shit?"

"Duh," Karma said, rolling her eyes with a light laugh. "People enjoy making women feel bad. They say they don't because it's rude to say, but... come on. Why else would people try to pretend I don't look good or say that my model walk sucks if they didn't get a rush out of it? It's all about putting a woman in her place. Trying to tell her that you should just give up and be a wife and pray that he doesn't decide to dump you for a hotter make of bitch later. Things like that. It's stupid and petty. Ignore it." Now that was something that was easier said than done. At least until Karma's fingertips lightly grazed up along Violet's back and her other hand was gently placed upon her cheek. "You're talented and pretty. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

And then Karma's lips collided with hers under the moonlight. Violet's heart raced as she followed her lead. Any thoughts of the outside world slipped away, vanishing into the night.

Day 23: cursed, midna/zelda

how it works, i'll never know

Midna had been taken off guard by Zant. She hadn't been expecting him to carry more power than her. It was bad enough that she and her people were cursed to spend their lives in the dark, flitting about in a realm that only half existed. Now she had lost her own form, forced to flee into the world of the light to try to find someone who could help. She'd sent out the message to Castle Town, hoping to hear something back from the current royal of Hyrule that they could help. All her hopes came crashing down when the note came back warning her to not try to come to Castle Town: it had fallen. Princess Zelda sends her regrets, but she was indisposed and unable to help. Along with her warning to not come to Castle Town was a message of hope: the Triforce of Wisdom had informed her there was someone who could help, and that they would bear the mark of the Triforce of Courage. While she did not who would have it, she was at least able to provide a drawing of the mark Midna needed to look out for.

Princess Zelda had been taken off guard by Zant. She hadn't expected someone this strong, and he forced her into a surrender lest he destroy Castle Town. Surrendering would at least guarantee that her people would survive. What he didn't know was that Zelda had no intention of taking this laying down. Her need to protect her people went further than that. So when Midna's message arrived, she was able to intercept it and send a warning message back. If Zant knew, she was certain that she would be punished with the death of someone in her kingdom. It was a risk, but one she needed to take. If she just left them to the whims of a mad man, then they would surely be harmed more in the long run. Her studies warned of this darkness that followed the kingdom, and she'd wished she'd paid more attention to the name of the man that haunted them. She at least knew the mark to look out for. The Triforce of Wisdom guided her, and she knew from her studies that it was important she listen.

When Midna arrived to Castle Town, she was dying. The curse of the darkness meant any amount of light damaged her. She was failing, and the beast with the mark of the Triforce of Courage stared at her. Somewhere deep in one of her previous lives called forth the memory of those eyes. If Midna wasn't actively dying, Princess Zelda might've taken more time to look into that. But there was no time, and so she did the only thing she could do for her: she gave her life to save her. Midna needed to survive, and Princess Zelda was ready to sacrifice anything to keep her safe. Midna didn't understand the princess before, and now she did. She now knew her like the back of her own hand, and she loved her the way she knew Zelda loved her.

Unfortunately, Midna was also ready to make the same sacrifice. Princess Zelda had hoped they might be able to bridge the gap between the two realms even if she knew it was impossible. The Twilight Princess was ahead of Zelda's thoughts, and she shattered the mirror. The world of light and dark were never meant to touch. For a brief moment in time, they were able to see each other, to know each other. A flash in the pan moment where they could imagine what it would be like if it could have worked. It could never be - they were too cursed for a happy ending, it seemed.

Day 24: oujia board, ryo bakura/miho nosaka

the life among the dead

Miho pulled the lollipop out of her mouth with a loud pop, and raised a brow at Bakura. Her knees sunk into the plush white carpet as she leaned forward, examining the board. "So you want to use this to contact the dead?"

"Well yes," Bakura said with a light laugh, her long, spindly, pale fingers adjusting the Oujia board between them, straightening it out. The lights had been dimmed, and candles lit - a mix of black, white, and purple candles surrounding them in a circle encased in salt. If it weren't for the Oujia board, this might almost be romantic. "Unless you're scared?" She winked at Miho, and she rolled her eyes. "Seriously, it'll be fun. Let's find out what kind of ghost is in the area."

"I'm not scared," Miho half growled, shaking her head. The lavender hair spilled all around her shoulders, and there was a tinge of pink on her cheeks as they puffed up in anger. "I just think that it's stupid to try to call forth ghosts that could want to harm us! We don't know anything about them."

"I'll keep you safe from ghosts that want to harm you," she said with a teasing grin, holding up the planchette with an arched brow. The smoke of the burning sage spun around it, and settled into a misty haze. "Don't you trust me?"

Miho rolled her eyes. "If a mean ghost shows up, I'm throwing you under the bus," she said, settling in. "Fine. How do we do this?"

Bakura placed the planchette on the "G", and indicated Miho placed her hand on hers. They broke eye contact, focusing on the board. "Are there any spirits in here with us?" Miho yelped as it immediately moved to yes. She was shaking like a leaf already, and Bakura grinned at this. "Don't worry. That's a good thing. Ask the ghost a yes or no question."

It took a moment before Miho finally spoke again. "Can you... see us?" The planchette didn't move, and Miho rolled her eyes. "Okay, so you just moved it the first time, didn't you?"

"No, I think the ghost is trying to say that it can see us," Bakura replied, glancing up and around the room. "Let's try asking something more complex... like... hey ghost, what's your name?"

The planchette began to move again across the board - I. D. O. N. O. T. K. N. O. W. "How do you not know your name," Miho objected. "Surely you'd have to know your name!" The spirit spelled out a second message. I. T. H. A. S. B. E. E. N. A. W. H. I. L. E. S. I. N. C. E. S. O. M. E. O. N. E. A. S. K. E. D. "So you're an old spirit?" The force of the planchette moving to "yes" unsettled Miho, and she glanced at Bakura with a wide eyed look. "I see."

"Did you die here," Bakura asked, and the planchette snapped over to "no" in seconds. "We've contacted a fairly powerful spirit, it seems. Do you remember how you died?" The planchette snapped over to YES, then spelled out, M. Y. V. I. L. L. A. G. E. W. A. S. D. E. S. T. R. O. Y. E. D. "So you died when your village was destroyed?" It snapped immediately to NO, then began spelling out a new message. I. D. I. E. D. M. A. K. I. N. G. T. H. E. P. H. A. R. A. O. H. P. A. Y. F. O. R. I. T. "You're from Egypt?" YES.

Miho gasped, pulling her hands away from the planchette. "Make it stop," she cried out, shaking her head with her eyes full of tears. "Bakura, I'm scared!"

Bakura forced the planchette to the goodbye and lifted it up immediately, glancing up at Miho. She'd been so excited to make contact with a ghost that she hadn't checked in with Miho at all. She was shaking still, and Bakura moved to sit next to her, wrapping an arm around her. "It's okay," she said softly. "The candles and salt should protect us from the ghost lingering. I closed the board out. It's fine."

She glanced up at Bakura, unconvinced. "That spirit... it was angry. I could feel it."

"I told you that I'd keep you safe, didn't I? You're safe," she said, leaning down to press a kiss to Miho's forehead. "But if you don't wanna touch it again, I understand."

"We have to help that spirit," Miho said forcefully, her tearful eyes now full of fire. "It was angry. We need to find a way to help it move on."

Bakura grinned. "Then let's try again."

Day 25: surreal, violet foxglove/karma carter

every version of yourself tonight

Her life was shattered into little pieces, and it was entirely her own fault. She stared up at the pop star on the poster advertising the show, and her brain couldn't quite connect how that was supposed to be her. The woman in the poster wore a sparkly mini dress, lips painted bright red with a giant smile and sparkly blue eyes that seemed dazzled by the very crowd in front of her. Nothing about her was Violet, but she was Violet Foxglove, the brand. This was who people bought the records from - not the girl hunched over in the rain wearing an oversized hoodie and jeans, desperate to not be seen. The disconnect between who she was and the pop star deepened every passing day. She couldn't imagine a pop star who sang girlish tunes about how much she loves her boyfriend would ever connect with the reality of who she was. She desperately wanted to pretend she was not like other girls, but when she was being dolled up for a premiere, for an event, or just to do a planned meet & greet, it was impossible to pretend she was anything but a girl.

She was just a girl, she was just a normal person. Except for when she wasn't. Except for when she was a prize to be idolized, a cash cow for Capitol Records that they kept because it was beneficial, and she belonged in part to everyone. "Did Micheal Rose and Violet Foxglove call it quits" screamed the tabloids from the magazine rack, and Violet couldn't even be sure herself. Michael, if he knew the truth, surely would want nothing to do with her. Why did he stick around? She wasn't sure. He didn't know the solace she sought from Karma's arms, and he certainly didn't know that she was sneaking into Karma's New York City penthouse yet again. She'd met Karma's mother, Hera Carter, who had just rolled her eyes and told them to not get caught. "I'm not cleaning up that mess if you two fuck this up," she'd warned before leaving the room. Her mother didn't even know, but Hera knew her better than her own mother.

Angelina Foxglove had no reason to know anything about her own daughter as long as the money kept rolling in. In fact, Violet was certain that Angelina didn't know exactly what she'd signed her daughter up for. Part of her wondered if her mother would've been okay with any of this if she could've seen the future. Violet thought back on when she was first starting out when she was fifteen years old, and how she'd been so excited to sign on the dotted line. It was a lifetime ago. She could picture her old bedroom in her parent's house - covered in posters of Michael Rose and guys like him. A guitar in the corner, a wastebasket full of tossed out ideas that didn't work out, and a bookshelf full of silly books that she'd never admit to reading to in a million years. Her closet was just jeans and shirts that proclaimed her love of rock bands, with her go to Docs by her door. The girl in that room would have never in a million years put on a sparkly pink bodysuit to perform in. The girl in that room would have never once thought of Karma Carter as a potential best friend. The girl in that room never would have kissed a girl. The girl in that room wouldn't recognize Violet Foxglove as her future.

She was more familiar with the backdoor to Karma's apartment over the door the doorman guarded. She pressed in the keycode that she'd memorized by heart, heading up the tiny stairwell to the well hidden elevator that took her straight to Karma's apartment. This was who she was now. And she had to hope that they didn't fuck this up.

Day 26: vampire, yusei fudo/aki izayoi

warmed me to my core

For the most part, Aki tried her best to not leave the old chateau. She disliked the reminders that she was no longer part of the world of the living. It'd been hard to keep track of the years by this point - she'd stopped counting after twenty years and she'd lost track somewhere fifty years ago. They just flew by, and she decided it wasn't worth focusing on the time that would march unending. It'd never show on her face. Her face that she couldn't see in any mirror. She'd thrown covers over all of them in the old chateau. Her parents were buried in the backyard, and she'd never be laid to rest next to them. That wasn't worth dwelling on. She needed desperately to feed, and she had a friendly working relationship with the butcher just down the street. The street that had changed so much. When she'd first been turned, there had been no cars. Suddenly electric street lights had gone up, replacing the old gas ones of her youth. Shops closed and changed hands while she stayed the same. Women had rights that she'd not had when she'd turned. The people stopped asking when she'd get married and started asking about her career.

As far as anyone knew, Aki Izayoi was the granddaughter of the Aki Izayoi that had mysteriously disappeared so many years ago. She claimed she'd moved back, that her mother had left with her. That she'd heard that her grandmother had passed, leaving her the old chateau. No one questioned the story, but she wondered how long until it was obvious to the humans that she wasn't aging. She didn't want to let go of the old chateau, but people would eventually notice that she wasn't aging. The clothing she wore now would have given her father a heart attack from how scantily clad it was. Well, everything was still covered just... her calves were on display now. If she could still blush, might've over the dresses that were considered fashionable these days.

Before she could get to the butcher's, she was pushed against the alley wall with a knife pressed to her throat. Aki gasped in shock - normally she could easily overpower a human but this was not the case here. A young woman with a shabby jet black hair cut and eyes so blue they were almost violet was staring her down with malice. "Don't you dare move," she hissed. "I know what you are, and I'm not going to let you hurt anyone."

"Hurt," Aki questioned, and her breathing ceased. Breathing had always been more of a reflex, but when needed... she could still herself including any chest expansion that came with breathing. "Now what could you be talking about?"

"Don't play innocent, vampire," the woman spat, the knife digging into Aki's flesh. It burned as if it'd been drenched in holy water... and it occurred to her just then that was probably the case. Vampire hunters weren't common, but they were certainly something to watch out for. Granted, the position she was in was unfavorable to her escape, and that was largely her own fault. She'd starved herself the brink of desperation. If she didn't desperately need blood, she wouldn't have even left the old chateau. "I've seen how you don't age. You claim that you're the granddaughter of Aki Izayoi. I suspect you are the original Aki Izayoi."

Aki laughed, and the blade slashed down her. She hissed in agony as the blade left a wound that healed over instantly - the quick healing betraying the lack of humanity. "What would you have done if I was human," she asked. Before Aki could move, the knife was back at her throat again. "If you had slashed open a human with your knife?"

The woman blinked in confusion. The thought that Aki could have been human had honestly never occurred to her. Everything about her seemed so obviously nonhuman that she had naturally assumed that the move was a surefire way of proving her point. "You look exactly like all the portraits of the first Aki Izayoi," she said, now uncertain what to do here. She expected the vampire to lash out and try to drain her. She had no road map for when a vampire acts this human. "That's how I knew you wouldn't bleed out on the street when I used this knife on you."

"And it is doused in holy water. Or perhaps you had it blessed by a priest. Either way, it is a useful weapon against a vampire." Aki smirked. "Now... don't you think it is unfair that you know my name, but I don't know your name? Surely a dying woman deserves to know the name of her executioner."

"Yusei," she said automatically, not pulling away the knife. This had to be some kind of trick on Aki's side, but she couldn't figure it out. It intrigued her enough to want to keep her alive just long enough to know what con she was pulling. Curiosity always did get the better of Yusei. "You rarely leave the chateau. I figured you had to be on the hunt for blood."

"I was," Aki admitted. "I was going to the butcher. I have a standing order of pig's blood from him. Granted... he knows my grandmother used to buy it from his grandfather. He assumed I inherited the same strange taste." Her lips twisted into a snarl, revealing the sharp canines. Yusei was surprised by the effect this had over her. "Unless you'd like to volunteer to be my blood bag for the night?"

Despite the exposed fangs, it didn't quite feel like a threat. No, it felt more like a flirtation, which Yusei was shocked by. What's more... she actively considered it. She evaluated the woman in her for the first time beyond a prey: soft pink lips with a cupid's bow, wide hazel eyes, porcelain pale skin, and wine red hair. And then Yusei was overcame with need. She leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to the vampire's lips - she was cold, but she warmed to the touched with ease. Aki's lips molded to hers, and there was a surprising amount of gentleness that she allowed. When Yusei finally pulled away, she raised a brow. "I've never had a vampire drink from me before," she said breathlessly. "What does it feel like?"

"The last time I had it happened to me... I was frozen at this age," Aki whispered, glancing around. "Perhaps this is a conversation best had after I pick up my standing order. Why don't you meet me at the old chateau? Unless you'd like to invite me into your home."

She winked, and Yusei shook her head. If she allowed the vampire access to her home for one night, she could enter whenever she'd like. As much as she was willing to let this vampire live due to the fact she seemed relatively harmless, it would be foolish to give a vampire unfettered access to one's personal domain. No matter how beautiful she was. "I'm not nearly that foolish. I'll meet you at the old chateau."

It was starting to sink in as she stared up at the old chateau that she might be a little foolish. The old chateau had stood in the city for centuries - a testament to the length of the city's life in itself. The facade had been updated in recent years at the request of Miss Izayoi, with a gardener who regularly maintained the lawns. Until now, Yusei had been under the impression that she'd used supernatural powers to obtain these services. It only just sunk in that a woman alive for at least a hundred years might acquire more money than one could in a singular lifetime of working. She was certain that in the next hundred years, Aki Izayoi might be more powerful than the richest man alive. That didn't matter right now, however. What mattered was that she was now heading into a vampire's den, and she'd followed the request of the vampire to arrive disarmed. The lack of weapons on her person left her feeling more naked than it really should.

She reached up to knock on the door, but the door opened before she even connected her fist to the wood. A well dressed man stood before her with a charming grin. "The lady of the house was expecting you," he said, bowing deeply to her. That felt weird, and she wanted to tell him to knock it off but all words left her mouth. "Please, come on in and make yourself at home. Miss Izayoi will be with you shortly. Tea?"

Yusei stared as she was led to the sitting room - a massive oversized room that she couldn't have imagined existing in her wildest dreams. She shook her head. "Er, no thanks," she said quietly. "And please, don't bow to me again."

With that, she was left alone in the living room. It looked like it hadn't been updated since 1859 - dark browns and rich vibrant reds everywhere. The only hint that things had changed was the chandelier overhead was electric instead of with candles. Yusei hadn't anticipated that there would be staff in this house, but it made sense as she thought about it. This house was too large to be maintained by a singular person. If there was other staff, she hadn't seen them. This was the kind of place that she could never imagine feeling comfortable in. Aki entered the room, and she'd changed out of the dress she'd met her in. Instead, she was wearing a dated dress that covered every inch of her skin in a deep blood red. Her hair was now twisted up. She looked more comfortable than she had walking the streets outside. "Why don't we take this to my room," she suggested. "I doubt either of us want to be overheard."

She was led through the chateau to Aki's room. The portraits on the walls felt like they were staring at her. It was obvious that none of these had changed since Aki had been turned into a vampire. Should she ask for more details about that? Was it possible that she could wind up accidentally turned tonight? She didn't know, and the fear ran down her spine. The room Aki led Yusei to had plum colored walls, with a white canopy covering a four poster bed. Once again, this room was in bad need of a renovation. Aki had turned around to stare her down, and yet... something had shifted. Yusei smirked. "Where shall we begin?"

Day 27: the divine, hylia/link

Reckless was the best word to describe Link. Short-sighted was another good descriptor. If you asked Link, however, she would say that she just cared about justice. She cared about doing what was right. So what if it meant people thought she was hot headed and quick to rush into battle? That didn't matter. None of it matters. The goddess Hylia needed someone to assist in saving everyone else, and she swore her fealty to the goddess long ago. She'd pray at the altar of her hips, and she knew that it would all be worth it in the end. They could win. She trusted her goddess to the end. To the end, when Hylia decided that the answer to everything was that she needed to be reincarnated. When they hadn't quite won, she promised they would be back.

She had a plan that would involve her reincarnation. In the little cabin that Link had pulled together, the goddess had joined her for dinner as she did every night. There was a wry smile on her face - a knowledge of events to come that Link didn't want to know. She knew this, and she was kind enough to spare her the concern. The future was something that the swordswoman had no reason to think of. It wasn't something she had any control over, after all. Hylia explained her plan, and how she would need a chosen hero to follow her into the next life. The air changed, and Hylia gazed upon Link for a long time - as if memorizing the details of her face - before admitting that she could choose another hero.

Link was being offered a chance to not join the goddess. She would die a normal person, and her soul would move on. It was another offer out of kindness. The goddess had understood if Link decided that she would die here. Instead, Link agreed to the plan. Her soul would reincarnate in the next cycle, and they would end this. Some might think it reckless and short-sighted. Link considered it having faith. She sealed her promise with a kiss.

Day 28: ghost/spirit, diana kettering/ophelia copperfield

i've been meaning to tell you (i think your house is haunted)

Diana shot up in her bed, heaving as she felt the walls shrinking in. One nightmare into another. The cold sweats and shaking as she tried to steady her breath. It felt like she'd left a part of herself back home - the tough as nails bitch who could handle anything. Now she was scared all the time that something was wrong, and she didn't know where to begin. Ophelia was likely asleep, so calling her wasn't an option. She didn't want to talk to Jane, and Jane likely was soundly slumbering too. Instead, she sat in her bedroom, trying not to think how this room used to belong to her father. Sometimes it felt like he was still lingering here. Pull yourself together, Diana. You're better than this, she thought.

She wasn't sure if that was because she felt like she was trying to make sense of why he'd leave her this home. She wanted to question him, and she couldn't do that while he was dead. She instead tried to focus on what the nightmare was, trying to rationalize away why it was a foolish thing to be scared of. She grit her teeth, and thought to herself, You're better than this, Diana. Pull yourself together.

And yet it was hard. In her dream, Ophelia was holding a small child in her arms. She'd done her hair the way her ma used to do before (a slick, high ponytail that waved ever so slightly at the end), and in some way, she was her ma. Diana had kissed Ophelia before leaving out the door, knowing she was never going to come back. In her dream, she couldn't explain why she was leaving beyond the fact that she was scared. And just like her father, she had chosen to run without a single care to what would happen to Ophelia or the baby. And she woke up terrified of the person she was in that dream. She didn't want to be that person. Pull yourself together, she reminded herself. It was just a stupid dream - one that wasn't even possible. She would not, could not be like her father.

She put her head in her hands, shaking her head. Diana took a steadying breath before getting out the bed and heading into the en suite. She splashed cold water on her face, gripping at the sides of the sink. She stared at the clean marble. She wondered if Jane had picked it out, or if it had been like this when they'd moved in back in 1970 something. If Jane had picked it out, would it be insane of her to rip it up with her bare hands? She glanced up into the mirror, and a scream died in her throat as she swore a man was standing behind her. She spun around, and to her horror, no one was there. She definitely saw a man behind her, but wherever he was... she carefully turned the corner, seeing no one there.

Had she been seeing things? The phone in her room rang, and this time, Diana actually screamed. She gripped at her own racing heart, groaning. Pull yourself together, she chided herself for the fourth time tonight. It's just the phone. She picked up the receiver, lifting the actual body of the phone in her other hand. "Hello," she said, glancing around for any sign of the man she'd seen in the mirror. "You've reached Diana Kettering. May I ask who's speaking?"

"It's Ophelia," and the voice on the other end suddenly felt like a lifeline like it hadn't before. Diana gripped the phone tighter as if she was gripping onto Ophelia's waist. "I couldn't sleep. I was worried about you in that old house alone with Jane. I needed to make sure..."

She left her sentence hanging in the air, with neither of them wanting to complete it. Diana had seen the gun case her father had owned, and she considered the pistol in her bedside table. She might've kept it under her pillow if one of her ma's sisters hadn't blown her head out doing the same thing. This was the South - everyone had a gun and everyone knew how to shoot one. Jane had a million and one good reasons to kill her while she slept. "I don't think she'd be foolish enough to kill me while we're the only two people in this house," Diana said softly. "Especially when you know that I'm here. But... are there any rumors of this place being haunted?"

Ophelia laughed. "Ghosts aren't real, Diana," she said, and she could picture the warm smile all too well. It was the reason she didn't object and state she'd seen a tall blond man with a thick beard behind her that seemed to vanish into the night. If ghosts weren't real, what did she see? Maybe she was just losing her mind. All of this had started to get to her. "I know that house is big and old, but don't let it get in your head. It's just a normal house."

"A normal house with ten bedrooms and six bathrooms," Diana said with a roll of her eyes. "When I said I wanted to own a home I meant like. A three bedroom, two and a half bath in the suburbs, not a monstrosity from the 1800s." The mansion groaned, as if protesting her description. A thrill of fear ran down her spine - could the house hear what she was saying? That was ridiculous, and she shook her head. "I think that maybe I'm not getting enough sleep. I... keep having nightmares like I've never had before back home."

"Still can't think of that house as your home?"

Diana paused. She hadn't realized she'd let that slip again. Her mind flashed to the vision of Ophelia with her dark brunette hair up in a high ponytail, a white ribbon in a neat bow flowing behind her - a far cry from the blunt bob she kept it in now. She thought of the small baby in her arms. In her dream, it'd been a small three bedroom, two and a half bath in the suburbs. In her mind, it was only a thirty minute drive from the downtown office. She felt heat rise up in her cheeks, and was thankful that Ophelia wasn't here. "There's nothing in this house that would make it home. Uncle Sterling and ma aren't here." You aren't here. "It's... an empty shell." That's probably haunted.

The silence hung for an uncomfortably long time. She'd long learned this was Ophelia's tactic of getting more information out of someone. She held her ground, and stayed quiet. When Diana refused to give any more information, Ophelia sighed. "You know that eventually I'll figure out what's going on in that head of yours, right?"

I'm hoping you do, Diana thought. "Maybe," she said with a wry smile. "For now, I should get back to bed. Thanks for checking in on me. Bye."

She hung up, and stared at the receiver for a long time. She half expected Ophelia to call back. When she didn't, Diana climbed into the bed. By the time her head hit the pillow, she'd long forgotten what the ghost had looked like.

Day 29: prophecy, priestess isis/keket

a great woman wouldn't beg (but i look to the sky and said)

Isis could see it coming on the horizon. Even if they didn't have the warning signs of the crops starting to fail and the Nile's waters receding, something horrible was coming their way. Pharaoh Atem and Great Royal Wife Keket already were aware of the problem, and promised that they would find a solution together. The millennium necklace told her otherwise: they would not be able to find a solution. She'd seen the prophecy unfold, and she could see their bodies in her nightmares. Every time Keket smiled, it was hard to remember that she was still alive. She was a walking dead woman, and there was only hopelessness. She saw the future vessels of the Pharaoh and the Great Royal Wife - ages into the future that she couldn't wrap her head around. Isis again was kneeling at the altar of Shai, staring up at the God with hope that He might deliver a change in the prophecy.

Once again, she saw the same future unfold in thousands of images, across every single version she could see. It all ended the same - the Great Royal Wife was desperate to reach out to an old friend, and that old friend threw her off the balcony. Her body laid limp on the spikes before disintegrating away - the spell she'd cast to seal her soul into the millennium scales succeeding. Isis found herself sobbing yet again, begging at Shai's feet to please, change the prophecy. This could not be how their dynasty ended. And she could see that it would be the only way to save the future that confused her so. A knock at the arch, and she turned around to see Keket standing there in all her glory. "Still the same prophecy," Keket asked. The silence was enough to answer the question. Keket looked up at the God, and sighed. "If this is what Shai says must happen... if the prophecy is correct... then we shall save a great many people suffering from the collapse of the world. I would be glad to sacrifice myself to protect the world."

"What about my world," Isis countered, standing up from the altar to move forward to Keket. She cupped her cheek, not worrying who might see. If she were to die soon, what did it matter if she was caught? What did anything matter if she were not alive? "I can't... It's not fair to lose you like this."

Keket reached up, her hand delicately placed on Isis's wrist. She had a soft smile on her face, shaking her head. Even now, Isis knew she'd already long lost her. Yet she couldn't help but lose herself in the fantasy that things could turn out okay. She imagined a world where Keket would reach old age, her hair lined with gray and face full of wrinkles. The image of Keket's dead body violently returned, and she could feel the tears coming on. Keket's other hand reached up to gently wipe the tears away. "You'll be safe," she said softly, so full of certainty that it was hard to push it aside. "If I have to give my life for you to be safe, it would be a worthy sacrifice."

She placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, and Isis felt her heart sink in her chest. No matter how alive Keket was now, she was walking ever closer to her final destiny. And Isis didn't know if she could survive that.

Day 30: awakening

with you i serve, with you i fall down

Hyrule was on the horizon, and she was coming home. The shift of the land had changed since her victory at the castle, restoring the king back to his throne. Zelda had become her closest ally - something that was difficult to wrap her head around. Her younger self would've never pictured herself as the warrior that she would turn into. When Link had admitted to her that she needed a moment to leave, the princess had been nothing but supportive. Eventually, she knew she had to come home. Every adventure, every scar, and she was returning a changed woman. She wasn't the same person, and she didn't know how Zelda would react to that. To her great surprise, she was waiting on the beach for her in a plain dress with no signs of regalia adorning her hair. The wind blew around her, and Link couldn't help but smile when she saw her.

The boat pulled into the pier and she took a moment to dock it, tying the ropes with the expertise she'd gain from her travels. Zelda didn't wait for her to get down from the docks. "How was your journey?"

It was such a simple question, and yet she didn't know where to begin. Did she begin with the Wind Fish and her journey through Kohlint to wake the beast or did she begin with her travels through Labrynna and Holodrum? Zelda had partially been there for it, but she still didn't know the full extent of it. Link could remember how the princess looked asleep on the altar where Twinrova had threatened to sacrifice her to bring back the Demon King. She didn't know how Zelda got back home. Either way, Link shrugged. "I understand myself better now," she said, glancing over at the princess. "We should head back to the castle."

"Right," Zelda said softly. She bowed her head - something she did only when she was hiding something from her. Link steeled herself, wondering if she would just have to expect a battle just around every corner. But then she looked up, a smile on her face with a twinkle in her eyes. It just hit Link that while she aged up, so did Zelda. She was no longer the young girl that was kidnapped by Ganon, and Link was no longer the scared child trying to save her uncle. "Did you ever find the Oracles? Are Din and Nayru with you?"

Link nodded, moving to the other side of the boat to knock on the door. The princess had distracted her from completing the task at hand. "Din, Nayru, we've arrived," she said. "Zelda is waiting for us to get to the castle."

The castle had been a distant memory for Link. Hyrule Castle towered over the entire region, and she'd thought that because she'd gotten taller, perhaps it wouldn't feel like it was going to swallow her. Instead, every crevice of the building still felt like it was overgrown and wild - like it hide secrets behind every wall. She had no interest in finding out what it was hiding. She wanted to maintain her sanity tonight. Zelda was safe, and yet it didn't feel like it. It felt like she was supposed to be ready to fight for her life at any given moment. The soldiers smiled at her, and she nearly reached for her sword - she still remembered them fighting her in hopes that she'd die. They didn't remember being Ganon's puppets, but she remembered.

Zelda didn't glance at the soldiers, and Link wondered if she remembered it too. She'd been a young girl imprisoned in her own castle, her own home. How had the princess just return to it like nothing had happened? She'd wanted to run far away from home, putting as much distance between herself and Hyrule, when her uncle had come back. Nothing about him had been wrong, per say, it was just the uncanny feeling of knowing she saw him bled out in the castle's sewers. How did someone consolidate that with the living, breathing man that was back in her home? She didn't know, and she didn't care. All she knew is she'd rather take her chances with the boat again.

Did Zelda have the same nightmares she did? She wondered when the last time the princess had slept, if the bags under her eyes were anything to go by. She had the same ones, admittedly. She couldn't judge. The Oracles had been given room and board in the castle, with an assurance that they'd be safe here. Link wasn't sure how Zelda could make that promise without flinching. After all, it had been within these walls that Link had fought for her life. Ganon had breached it before as the King's advisor. Link couldn't help but notice that there was no longer a royal advisor position. Zelda had mentioned the position had been abolished, and she wondered the long reaching impacts that could have. Insular royalty didn't seem to be that much better of an idea.

Where the princess was leading her, she wasn't sure. All she knew was that she wasn't going to take her eyes off the princess. The risk was too great. Would someone steal her away again? Link thought about Marin, and her long red hair as she stared at the princess's own strawberry blonde hair. The flashes of Marin versus Zelda, and it slowly sunk in that the Wind Fish had said the dream had been influenced by Link's own memories. The memory of the princess standing in front of him, and how she was a version of Zelda that she'd never seen before.

As she led Link up a spiral staircase, Link wondered if there was ever a chance to see the princess that was unburdened by life. She'd never had a normal life, and that wasn't entirely her fault, was it? She'd been born into this life. Ganon had gone after her for powers that she'd only just barely gained control of. The confession that she hadn't known she had any of those powers lingered at the back of Link's mind. Had she worked further on those powers? Link's hand was gripped tight on the sword at her hip, suddenly nervous by the lack of explanation that Zelda had given. Where were they going?

They reached a door, and Zelda led Link into a... bedroom? The room was spacious, with an oversized bed with a flowing canopy covering it. Shelves of books lined the walls, and it slowly sunk in that this was the princess's own room. She sat at a table that had a mirror in front of it, and somehow Link was reminded of the mirror that could take her into the Dark World. She irrationally wanted to tell her to step away from the mirror so she could break it. It was an odd feeling, and she swallowed it. "I don't trust the guards," Zelda admitted, as if she was casually suggesting what they should eat for dinner tonight. "I trust you, however. I want you to become my full time guard. I already suggested this to father, and he agreed it was a good idea to keep you around. We would pay for this service, of course, as well as provide you room and board here in the castle so you may stay close to me."

The request was so simple that it nearly knocked Link off her feet. The more she sat with this request, the more she understood why the princess would not trust the guards. Even though they were friendly now, they both had seen them ruthlessly attack Link with a desperation to have her killed. And she could understand why Zelda would consider Link the best chance at survival in a situation should the guards turn on her again. "Of course, ma'am," Link said, bowing to her. "I would be happy to serve my country again per your request, ma'am."

Zelda giggled at this. "Oh come on, Link, no need for formalities when it's just us," she said with a bright grin. Suddenly Link flashed back to Kohlint where she was standing in front of Marin - the smile was exactly the same. "You can call me Zelda if you'd prefer. And... don't worry about answering right away. You can think on this as long as you need. Instead of answering right away... come over here. Tell me what you saw in Labrynna and Holodrum. I want to know everything."

Zelda's eyes widened as she took in the story that Link told her, and over the course of the discussion, Zelda admitted that before Ganon had stolen her away, she'd never left the castle before. Twinrova's kidnapping of her had been the first and only time she'd been past the borders of the country. The idea of getting to leave and travel far away was a strange one to her, and she envied Link's freedom. A princess who was next in line for a throne couldn't just up and leave. All of the stories passed down had a strict definition of what Zelda was supposed to be, down to her name. She almost felt guilty about asking Link to stay with her - almost. She was her hero, and for that reason, the princess felt like she had at least the right to ask her to stay. Every second that passed, her hero grew bolder by getting ever so closer to her.

When Link had taken off to Labrynna and Holdrum in search of the Oracles per her request, she'd been little more than a girl - just like her, really. And yet she'd returned covered in fresh new scars, with a new sort of ruggedness to her. Like her, she'd aged into a full fledged woman that had so much more knowledge of the world around them. She was a warrior, and Zelda would entrust her life in her hands twice over if she had to. No one was more capable than he, and she reached out to take her hand in hers. She could feel every callous in the palm of her hand, every raised scar, and it took so much courage to look into her eyes. Big blue eyes were already staring at her, and there was a similar trust for her in them yet... there was something else in them.

Both of them had walked through hell and back to be sitting in her bedroom in a peaceful Hyrule. Here she sat, wondering if she had any right to claim this warrior for herself. Surely after everything she'd been through... she had least earned the right to choose if she should leave behind this life entirely. When she had sent Link away, she had anticipated that Link would leave soon after delivering the Oracles. She still suspected that she might. Every single moment that passed, she anticipated that her swordswoman would decide her duty was done and leave. Instead, her other rough, battle scarred hand gently cupped her cheek, and Zelda leaned into the touch. How many lives had they lived? If the stories were to be believed, this was inevitable. Did that mean they lacked any free will in this moment? She didn't know the answer, and she didn't want to know the answer. If this was just fate, then at least it owed her this kindness after everything she'd been through.

Then again... was anyone owed anything? Her thoughts were at war as Link demonstrated her courage by making the first move - her lips were captured in a sure kiss that said everything that could've been said. With it, Zelda knew that she wasn't going anywhere. With safety promised and a bright future for Hyrule ahead of them, she allowed herself to sink into this moment. She could picture their future in her head, and she smiled into the kiss. She was eager to lay her claim where it belong - her swordswoman, forevermore.

Sapphic September

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