i chose me.

"Melinoë." The goddess has haunted Xena's worst nightmares one time too many to be forgotten so easily. But if a child of Hades is here right now, surrounded by the smell of sulfur and rush of a river that hadn't been there before, mere moments after she'd barely dragged herself over the line of the Gauntlet...

"This is where it ends?" She doesn’t know what to feel about that. It’s hard to feel much of anything at all, beyond the lingering sting of her own men’s blows.

If a single one of them could still be called that. She'd thought them loyal. Thought they'd believed in her, in her cause. Every bruise on her body aches down to the core with a betrayal she truly hadn't imagined to be possible.

And for the first time in ages - since the day she'd birthed her own child, only to hand him straight to the centaurs and run before the sight of that little boy could change her mind - that ache isn't only for herself. Who would keep that baby safe from Darphus if she was gone? Salmoneus? A mere shepherdess?

The commander steps forth without qualm.

But the dark does not so readily relinquish. She remains cloaked in it, a silhouette cut amongst the iridescence of their surroundings. A striking figure, with the weight of Piltover behind her. Yet what one city might see as regal might come closer to imposing to another.

The roiling blue settles short of Jinx's thigh. She breaks pace ( even her steps are measured these days ); the intentioned pause denoting just how much she sees, how much she's seen from the shadows. This is no ordinary child, is it? Not simply another fanatic protecting their symbol of Zaunite resistance. Lips pull taut. What she could achieve if she were not there. If she were without the barely tethered restraint held in the rigid planes of her spine.

—She has to be better than them; better than Ambessa and her bloodthirst, better than the thugs down here. She will bring their people peace.

But as with every distraction, it is temporary. She faces her target eventually, and the hardening lines of her expression tell all.

❝I could ask you the same.❞ It's not as conversational as it sounds. Even as she studies the architecture, the hands clasped behind her back itch for a rifle she's left at the gates of this sanctuary.

❝Never thought I’d see the day you’d settle down.❞ Little attempt to hide the venom and scorn. What’s the angle here? There has to be one. The Jinx she's known and profiled a thousand times over has always been more intent on wreaking chaos and destruction than starting a family.

She'd seen it, though. She'd been there when Isha clung to Jinx with all her might - even when she wanted her off, wanted the kid safe, wanted this hell over and herself dead -

When all that stood between Isha and the barrel of an enforcer gun was her sister.

Vi. The one behind this entire knife's edge of an alliance. The sister who'd abandoned her; the sister who'd spent years rotting away in prison, desperately clawing her way back out. The sister who's the reason Silco is dead. The reason Vander is back. The sister who'd finally held out a hand to Jinx without expectation, and said:

What are you waiting for? He's your dad, too.

Never thought I’d see the day you’d settle down. Neither had Jinx. Not since the day Powder died. But, now -

Now, it feels terrifyingly close again.

Powder feels close again.

Close enough to hope. Close enough to hurt.

But Powder isn't just Jinx any more. Powder is reborn in a girl with her own name, her own face; something to protect, someone to live up to. Someone worth putting up with Kiramman's bullshit for, worth trusting Vi again after everything that's gone wrong, if it means a chance at a better tomorrow.

For Isha.

Not that she's admitting one fucking bit of that sappy shit to her present company. With nothing more than a snort, Jinx's arms cross, weight shifting from one foot to the other and body tipping languidly to one side before straightening out again. "Believe it or not, there's plenty of me you've still never seen. Never will, either, if I have it my way."

From behind her, Isha harrumphs and nods eagerly. God, she adores that kid.

"But we're not just here to play family. They're coming for Vander - you know that." It's the only reason they're tolerating each other to begin with. To keep him safe - keep this whole place safe. "My sister trusts you, but... Why should I believe you won't just steal him for yourself, and go crawling back to your shiny new army with their precious monster in tow?" It's what Kiramman would want, after all. Should want. Isn't it? An eye for an eye. A parent for a parent.

a deep inhale; eyes flutter closed. as promised, she aims the plume of smoke into the night air. when she turns back to jackie, she holds it out as a peace offering. one last thing to share before this moment inevitably goes away. she's been waiting since that first night - hands grabbed in the dark as they ran towards nothing together and ended up right here. since she woke up the next morning after the most peaceful night of sleep she'd had in a long time. not waiting for something bad to happen did wonders for a girl's sleep.

Something about that feels strangely intimate this time, in a way even their kisses weren't: holding in nearly the same breath Nat just had deep in her lungs, before instinct finally forces her out the window to let it go. Just in time, too, given the snort that follows Nat's observation. "'Kind of's' putting it nicely," she shoots back, arm extended to hand the cigarette back to Nat again as she sits back up properly. "But, yeah. Don't think my mom'd know chill if it hit her in the face, and Dad..."