Hannah K.C. Davis

Añil said he's tired. Tiredness can stem from stress (of trying to keep Muriel's plan in the right track), from depression (of loosing his friends), etc. So, him being in the Suitcase would mean meeting new personalities (this time without needing to worry much about being erased by the Storm) and this would keep his brain active, kind of like a mental therapy.

Your ask also gave me an idea for a drabble. Kiperina's story is a little blurry in my memory, so I don't mention it in depth, but I hope you enjoy this little Añil-focused drabble 🤧

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"Muriel, good evening," Añil murmurs a greeting. He carries a paper bag in his arm. There is a distinct checkered pattern of white and black on it, as if the big logo of St. Pavlov Foundation doesn't immediately give it away.

They've been here for almost a month now. Here being a Suitcase belonging to a silver-haired señorita wearing a top hat. Lorentz Butterfly had brought them to her following the fall of the Turquoise Serpent Club and she had agreed to shelter them for the time being.

Añil reaches inside.

"Chocolate," he says, placing it on the kitchen counter. "And some sunflower seeds. Señor Name Day showed me around Laplace today. We met a team that had gone to the moon and back. Can you imagine?"

A chaotic team they were. A cheerful snake-headed señorita with her eight slithering siblings, a short-haired blonde who talked in clipped and concise sentences, an extraordinary young girl who originated from a circus, a seemingly mute girl who isn't quite human, and a tiny white lizard who is an exceptional salesman. He found out that Name Day also worked with them for that project.

"The one being sent to space was a very young señorita," Añil continues. "Reaching the moon seemed like a faraway dream, but humanity achieved that dream. Isn't that wonderful?"

His fingers lightly caress the pink petals of Muriel's daisy flower, left to bask near the window. The blue stain on one of its leaves glinting under the light.

"I guess what I want to say is, since they managed to achieve the impossible, our Depths of Myth is certainly achievable as well, don't you think?" Añil smiles, then shakes his head and sighs. "Hey, Muriel, are you listening?"

There is no response. It is just like all the times Añil visited the workshops, both in Coyoacán and in the former Turquoise Serpent Club, Muriel was the type that once he focused on something — his paintings, oftentimes — there was nothing that can break that focus.

Añil expected the silence.

He walks further into the room. There, in the workshop, lies a sizeable piece of broken plaster. Muriel's mural painting on its surface, depicting a sun surrounded by five hummingbirds and five butterflies. A crack in the middle of said sun from a bullet shot.

Añil had painstakingly carved it out from the wall of the Mexico City People's Library and brought it along. It crumbles at the edges, but the center piece is intact and that is enough.

"I'll keep looking," Añil says, solemn like an oath. He splays his palm in the center of the sun. "There is more to be studied about arcanum and the Storm. I'll keep studying."

"So, wait for me, Muriel."

"I'll free you from the dream you're trapped in. I'll look for ways to create the perfect Depths of Myth."

"When that happens, please," Añil's voice drops to a whisper. "Live."

The remains of the wall does not respond, cold under his touch.

Añil lowers his forehead to its surface.

"Please live."

I miss you.

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additional tags that i can't put in the actual tags because it would spoil the story: