this is my fault ...

this is my fault...

Inspired by this fic!!!

[TW : Blood, Fire, major character death, graphic death]

I'm really sorry that the follow up of your gift arrived so late.. But I already promised so here it is your short comic! the context is shinichi seemingly burned conan alive and unknowingly get witnessed by one saguru hakuba. I already have an ending in mind and it's actually not THAT serious at all. Actually abit crackish and comedy! it's all a big humongous misunderstanding that got everyone involved and many traumatized for life.. yeah.. but I'm interested to see your version of what must have happened!

FALLERE : the deceiving truth

       “christ, eds, where should i start?” richie asks, squatting down in front of eddie. his thin legs are getting long now, and he’s entering that gangly stage that thin boys find themselves trapped in as puberty threatens to take hold. he’s always held himself strangely, but now he looks as if he’s forgotten how to use his body, wobbly on his feet because of his knew proportions. if anything’s truly funny around here, it’s richie--- and not for the reasons he thinks. he begins to speak, and the countdown begins to when he inevitably has to stop to breathe.        “i mean, you have to admit it’s at least a little funny, right? if it were me who wiped the fuck out in the creek, feet flying out from under me, and i came back up with a fish in my shorts that made me scream so loud i had an asthma attack, you’d think it was pretty funny, wouldn’t you?” he pauses only briefly, then adds, “because you had your inhaler. if you didn’t, it’d be scary. obviously.”        richie grins then, freckled features lighting up like he’s just seen someone do a really neat trick! he’s clearly having a ball with this. “i think maybe if you’d gotten to know the fish, she wouldn’t have been so scary and you could have had beautiful mermaid children together.”

"It's just that most bad things seem to happen right when i'm around," said Alex, only half joking.

"I guess things are just attracted to you," said Dakota. "You're…pretty attractive."

Alex continued to adjust her saddle strap in measured movements, not looking up. "Are you flirting with me, Lightwood?"

"Maybe," said Dakota. "Was it good? Please give me feedback."

Alex, setting the saddle straight, gave it a little pat.

"There's always room for improvement" was all she would divulge.

Dakota waited for her to mount before giving her own horse the cue to head on, slowing at times for her companion, who lagged tiredly behind. Tin-Can and Alex had done little more than patrol these past few days, and whatever prospect of rest they had had was snatched away by a new laceration on Everwind Fields. The sporadic opening of pandoric cracks made the task of closing them less a heroic duty than it was a game of whack-a-mole.

But this one was different: it was a jagged wound. It was its own root system. It was large enough that it did not simply inhabit the field, but all but encompassed it.

"It's the pandoric energy getting restless" was Alex's theory, but there was significant baggage behind the statement. "It's worsening."

They went in silence, then. The landscape was overcast by the unmistakable pink aurora that surged from the crack’s open maw; the light rustled almost audibly with its portent. As they walked the ground shifted and succumbed to pulsing veins that coiled and flickered of ghastly illumination. They moved on.

Closer -- the searing frigidity of the energy, pumping out of the abyss. It had always been milder in small doses, but the wild magic of it was chillier and windier than before. 

When they pulled to a halt before the thunderous gap of it, Alex’s pupils were noticeably dilated. 

For a split second Dakota thought that Alex might say, I can’t do it, as she had never said before. But the words died prematurely, rearranged themselves to "let's see what I can do here."

“You don’t have to,” Dakota said, a little too hastily. (Bad remark. Alex would only consider it a challenge.)

A pause. 

“All right,” said Alex, “do you have the machine with you?”

Dakota hitched the shadow-sucker more securely over her shoulder.

"You know that this place is going to be hell as soon as you start."

Dakota indicated that yes, she did.

She took a breath. On my mark, said Alex, but the words were indistinct and bled together in the flickering light. Dakota barely registered starting the vacuum, but in one rolling bolt she felt it rushing up into her contraption. As the space-time fabric itself was rending from the universal frame itself she felt the energy unfurling and distorting in waves, and then real, living pain -----

and a sound like the beating of wings, an upwards cascade. She felt the breeze of passage, a thousand inhuman voices clamoring and receding. In the tides she saw figures, as horses rearing and retracting into the mist or the ghostly imprint of an angel, she could not discern - but she saw Alex, and Tin-Can, a little way away, or the pink outlines of them, smeared water-color-like into the haze. 

“Alex!” Dakota tried, but her voice was extinguished in her own vacuum, pulled inexorably into the void around them. Damn it. Alex couldn’t close this; no one could. It was a naive hope that they could have done anything about it. And what now? She could feel the shadow-sucker bloating, bursting from the inside with pressure. 

The voices assembled, disassembled. They were not in English. They were not in any language that Dakota had learned, but she innately understood snatches of it.

Not now - Alex’s voice, in this tongue. You shouldn’t be here.

Dakota could feel Alex decompressing the energy, turning it into something that could free-flow, that could lessen. She did not know how. 

Daydream, rooted in his spot, as frozen as the slowly-turning world around them. The torrent magic receded to a soft, moving coil around them.

Alex, still talking, still saying strange words that skipped off the edge of Dakota’s consciousness ---

and Dakota, breathing in and out until she felt the warmer hands of Pandoria, reaching from below -

and shakily, lifting, the shadow-sucker gorging itself until the first edge of blue penetrated the unhealthy pall of light, and then another, laced with green, as the surrounding backdrop came flooding through ----

and the crack, shuddering, sputtered its last hollow coughs and crawled to a halt. 

“Christ,” said Dakota. Her hands were shaking. The sudden lack of brightness around was another assault on her eyes unto itself, but was catharsis enough that she felt the muscles in her body relaxing. 

Alex, still on Tin-Can, looked blankly at the scar where the opening had been. Already it was splitting anew, beginning to emit the vaporous beginnings of new light.

“Alex,” Dakota said again, startled, “you -”

The beams crawled skyward; Alex turned her horse. “Let’s get out of here,” she said.

The pandoric crack had opened itself again. 

“You closed it the first time,” said Dakota. 

Alex said nothing. 

“You closed the whole thing,” said Dakota. 

The sky roiled, returned to chaos. 

“I don’t know what happened,” Alex responded when they were a distance back, suddenly and uncharacteristically quiet. Dakota registered that she was at the brink of collapse. “We have to report this one to the druids.”

“Sure,” Dakota said. 

Like I get it but you telling me that you wanted to bring someone that I’m close with and love dearly since they’re my bff…

Doesn’t guilt me in the way you think it does…

It just reminds me of what a shitty friend I am. That I haven’t seen them in so long or even talked to them because I’m terrible at keeping in contact.

It just makes me realize that I’ve missed them and it would be so wonderful to see them, talk to them.

It makes me feel like shit and it would better that I’m not here…