half a witch willow

WILLOW PARK AND AMITY BLIGHT MOODBOARD

You were never too weak to be my friend. I was too weak to be yours.

dewey forgot that not everyone liked strangers talking to them. especially strangers that said random stuff, but he never cared about that. he eyed the person who he made the offer to. the camera, the glasses, the stance. if he was smarter he'd try to figure out what their tone meant, their body language. yet he didn't care, didn't notice, didn't know.

"right of course. dewey duck," he held his hand out for a shake. "and now we're not strangers." because you couldn't be strangers with someone you knew the name of. at least that's what he thought. "and your name?"

he liked to think that he was good at hiding his feelings from most people, from those that didn't notice or didn't know him. he liked to hide true feelings behind the jokes and sure maybe there were feelings he was working through, but constant reminders of his failures and his family's secrets.

"see, now i've got you curious." likely anyone would be curious about this kind of offer. "what's your favorite place? it can be anywhere. new elias, old elias, the underland." dewey tilted his head to the side. they didn't seem like someone who hung around the underland often, but then again what did he know. he mostly avoided it mostly because he knew that no one wanted him to hang out there. between not wanting to upset his brothers further to knowing that he'd probably have to use some kind of fake name, the underland didn't seem like the best place for him to hang around.

⸻🍂 WILLOWS SMOKEY-QUARTZ BEHIND GUNMETAL OTTOTO PAUL glasses that does very little to hide the faint dark rings from many late nights.

As midnight-forest hair was bounded back tightly in twin dutch-braids ⸻ there sharp pointed ears easy to see. Dewey Duck . . . that name ⸻ felt like an spinning coin spinning inside there head ⸻ as that name sounded so familiar until realizing why! Dewey Duck was Scrooge McDuck's ⸻ great-grand nephew ⸻ great nephew? 150- years-give or take into that but that also meant . . . “ You ⸻ you are Ronald McDonald's nephew. ”

As they felt like they sounded ⸻ an delayed spark dangerously falling about to land onto an dry leaf ⸻ an very dry leaf. As the realization was an immediate sense of fiery-dread.  While they didn't pay attention much to the political-fractions of the human-realm but from experience . . . it had taught them that anyone carrying the title of authority over magic meant trouble.  As they have had enough of that in there lifetime &. wish to avoid all of that as much as possible.

Because Elias was an human-city threaded with magic &. they were still adjusting to an realm where magic had another authoritive-figure ⸻ different from the one from there childhood ⸻ but that unsettling feeling of them reflecting each-other lingers in the kind of way they won't stop fearing quietly. As they gave an fiercely-strong human-greeting ⸻ the handshake ⸻ like it was an athletic event! Regardless of there hands faint with calluses from hours spent gardening ⸻ sports ⸻ they still remained soft. 

“ Willow Park ⸻ ” they hummed-gently as they released there hand “ ⸻ but I'm pretty sure knowing someones name doesn't quite magically remove the stranger-danger part ⸻  ” but they smiled slightly as they couldn't help it “ ⸻ but I appreciate the optimism. ” As they needed to learn to be more open ⸻ gentle ⸻ as its nice to be reminded by others. As the question should be easy ⸻ it isn't. Favorite place ⸻ as there mind turned over Elias like an map caught burning around the edges. As they were more worried where King was least likely to be at this hour ⸻ not exactly wanting to cross paths with them on the way there or on there way back . “ Old Elias ⸻ but you can pick the exact place. ”

king stood perfectly still. the coffee cup remained crushed in his hand. rainwater dripped steadily from his curls.beside him on his shoulder, clover settled quietly. no longer hovering or darting through the rain. just there.keeping him company. their small warm paws pressed against soaked.the little palisman made a soft sound deep in their throat and nudged the side of his jaw. but all he could do was swallow hard.because somehow that hurt too.willow hadn't told him where to go.she'd told clover.escort him. take him home.as if she'd already given up on trusting him to find his own way there.

titan..that one stung the most.around them, the city stretched outward beneath his feet water spilling from overflowing gutters. the whole city felt alive..connected.even. held together by thousands of invisible threads and standing in the middle of it all, king had never felt more disconnected. there was nothing left to distract him from himself, he truly had hurt her. not accidentally or because destiny demanded it. not even  because the universe had forced his hand this time around. he had simply left..three months of silence, roads, coastlines and dreams...three months of convincing himself he'd call tomorrow…and still deciding not to.his grip tightened around the ruined coffee cup..what was left of it..the cardboard finally collapsed completely.rainwater splashed over his knuckles and suddenly he saw it. not through his eyes but through hers. willow checking her phone, pretending she wasn't worried..carrying his absence around like a heavy stone in her pocket. it all made his stomach twist and turns.clover nudged him again.gently and patient...how could he done that..

"yeah." his voice came out rough ."we really messed that one up, huh?" clover chirped. the tiniest sound.offended by the we. but despite everything, a weak smile pulled at the corner of his mouth briefly before disappearing because now she was farther away ..the rain trying unsuccessfully to erase her silhouette but failing to in the process.

dewey was tired of hearing that he had middle child syndrome. first of all, he was an adult and it didn't matter if he did like attention, he still was not a child anymore. second, it wasn't his fault that both his brothers were the types that didn't prefer diving head first into something. he snuck off in the morning before either of his brothers or webby could ask where he was going. he never really knew the answer to that question anymore. half the time he spent his days wandering around and the other half he was actively looking for a job that wouldn't bore him after the first hour. the first was usually him finding cool places or talking to cool people and the second usually was an early fail and turned into the former. today was meant to be a a relaxing day. he wanted to look at cool artefacts at the museum, remember the good old days, even if those good old days were... well not far in the past.

he walked up in front of a piece and looked at it for a moment before his eyes landed on the on loan from the private collection of scrooge mcduck. okay well, apparently the museum wasn't even a safe place. this was at least the third piece that had that plaque. "i'll pay you like $3 if you ditch this place and come to lunch with me. i thought it would be nice to have a good calm afternoon, but this is like the third thing i've seen that scrooge mcduck donated."

⸻🍂 WILLOW WAS BACK WITHIN ELIAS MUSEUM OF History &. Art trying to convince themselves that it was safer there ⸻ than it was in the wide-open. As they held that Rollieflord-XZ ⸻ an strange-camera heavier than it looked.  While it was not one idea but several forced into an agreement.  As they were testing the filmed-filters minding themselves watching through the viewfinder. &. for an moment there mind went very quiet in the kind of way soil becomes still right before roots decide which direction they desired to go.

“ That is . . . a very strange offer from someone I have never met before ⸻ ” as they were polite ⸻ but flummoxed because . . . who doesn't like Scrooge McDuck? As the name was impossible to rival against ⸻ survive next to.  But the one thing they noticed was that the stranger had an sort of tiredness ⸻ restless exhaustion about them in the kind of way that doesn't seem rehearsed? 

While that made this whole thing less like an joke &. more like . . . someone tossing an rope into the dark without checking what it was tied to ⸻ who was holding on to it on the other side of the dark ⸻ an kind of restless exhaustion that came from wandering without any real direction ⸻ needing to be anywhere but where they were. As they understood that feeling more than they liked to honestly admit lately. “ Alright ⸻ ” they murmured quietly putting up the Rollieflord-XZ in there adventure-bag “ ⸻ lead the way I guess? ”

📍 the entrance of hatchaway cemetery

it was the quiet hours of midnight when grim stood outside of the cemetary. it had become a habit of sorts since he arrived in elias. he never hovered around cemeteries before this, call him sentimental he didn't want to risk meeting any grieving family members or friends of the deceased.

but right now? he felt the pull to go here... maybe to atone for what he had been doing for hades.

the path was illuminated by the light from his scythe, which he set down for a moment to surveil the area. "alright," he warned sharply when he felt the presence of another. "step back from the scythe. it's not your property."

⸻🍂 ONE THING WILLOW NEVER THOUGHT THEY WOULD be doing would be avoiding ⸻ King ⸻ Cassian at Hatchaway Cemetery.

As every known haunt had become an trap waiting to spring ⸻ so they had come here instead . . . where not even King ⸻ Cassian would think to look for them here ⸻ yet. As they were near an patch of clovers near the gated-entrance ⸻ trying to find 4-leaf clovers. Startled for an moment ⸻ as they stared at them from the ground.  While they just noticed the scythe ⸻ glowy⸻ &. dramatic.  As this was the kind of thing Elias loved to throw at them when they were already having an pretty bad week. Just there luck ⸻ being assumed they were trying to steal some stranger's glowly-gardening-tool.

“ I ⸻ I'm not stealing your garden-scythe ⸻ ” she said bluntly &. flat “ ⸻ I am looking for 4-leaf clovers!!! ”

But the accusation was like an physical-blow that they couldn't control ⸻ feeling there chest tighten &. there stress-rise ⸻ as the air grew suffocatingly-thin as they flinched trying to brace-down there magic . . . only for there magic to surge ⸻ as bright wildflowers tangled &. erupted. While aggressive weed-growth began to rise &. spiral-wrap around the glowing-scythe-handle to grow-out long enough to reach Mr.Grim holding it out offering it back to them ⸻ politely ⸻ but on there . . . own. As they looked away first feeling there cheeks warm up ⸻ there pointed-ears shifted-lower as if they had done something . . . wrong.

As they returned there smokey-quartz behind glasses back to finding 4-leaf-clovers! Nothing was stolen!! They were fine!!! They have everything under- control!!!!

he felt something inside him drop straight through the earth. she was scared..not annoyed. or frustrated..scared..the kind of fear people only carried for things they couldn’t bear to lose. the last three months replayed in fragments sharp enough to cut: dead coastlines. empty forests. endless rain. hopeless dreams whispering his name like a curse. all those nights convincing himself he was chasing destiny instead of spiraling headfirst into another obsession he didn’t know how to let go of. and the entire time.. he hadn’t told anyone he was leaving.

not eda.  not luz. not willow…he had just vanished..as if that like that somehow made it easier. the realization hit him so hard he physically winced.“…oh, titan,” he muttered under his breath, sounding genuinely horrified with himself now. king stared at her for a long second beneath rain, lips parting slightly before shutting again. there were a thousand things he could say.. most of them terrible. one of them involved pretending he had actually died and come back somehow cooler, but even he knew that joke would probably get him buried alive beneath sentient vines tonight.

“yeah,” he murmured..lowering his gaze. clover buzzed softly atop his shoulder, tiny paws pressing against his damp hoodie as he stared at willow slowly understanding the shape of the damage he’d left behind. his grip tightened around the convenience store coffee until the cup crumpled slightly in his hand as the roots beneath the pavement began moving. “um..wow. okay. cool.” another helpless shake of his head. “i’m actually the villain in this story.” lightning cracked somewhere overhead.. “don’t agree with me.”

thunder rumbled anyway.“traitor.” he could feel the city reacting to her grief like a nervous animal pressed against a cage. his gaze dropped briefly to the cracks near her feet before lifting back to her face and thats when something inside him softened catastrophically.

there she was. still here. angry and frightened and shaking beneath the rain after three months of silence, and somehow she was still standing here looking at him like he was something worth being furious over. that was the part that undid him.

not the yelling. not the storm. that.

he ran a hand over his face with a tired groan. “okay..so… hypothetically speaking..” he started carefully, “if someone did accidentally follow a cosmic hallucination into the wilderness because they thought maybe the universe was finally handing them a life-changing revelation…”lightning cracked again"...but..there wasn’t anything out there.”

the humor slipped.just for a second. long enough for the truth to show through. “i kept thinking if i walked a little farther, or stayed one more night, or followed the dream one more time, i’d find…” his brows pinched slightly. “something that made sense.”

rainwater slid from the edge of his jaw as he laughed again, weaker now...sadness edging at this words…“instead i got attacked by seagulls in maine.” he pause. “which, by the way...they are demons..one stole my sandwich and looked me directly in the eyes while doing it.”

⸻🍂 WILLOW HAD NEVER UNDERSTOOD HOW EASILY THE human-realm loved an villain. As if the villainy-trope came out theatrical ⸻ painfully-overused ⸻ needing an cape &. some wicked laugh before anyone knew what to do with it. Standing there just an few feet away from an 24-hour convenience store with rain reflecting neon while trying to listen to them talk. As King? Cassian? Certainly talked themselves in &. out of blame as Clover vibrated as if trying to keep the storm from choosing sides. While they talked about some . . . cosmic road-trip disaster they tried to fold into an joke if they bent it hard enough. As she saw less of King Clawthorne ⸻ because the untouchable ⸻ walking declaration of impossible prowess of confidence &. chaotic-overlording ⸻ looked painfully mortal ⸻ &. painfully just as lost as she was. In the kind of way they both simply been alone to long &. dumbly standing in the rain outside an 24-hour convenient store long past midnight running out of ways to pretend that they were fine ⸻ spoiler alert: they were far from fine. Then Cassian reached the part about Maine ⸻ the joke was possibly somewhere to far away to recognize. As something moved across her face that she didn't bother stopping ⸻ jaw clenching tight ⸻ smokey-quartz going somewhere inward ⸻ pupil-sharp &. very far in thought from there. Because it wasn't just Cassian she was seeing anymore ⸻ but fragments of Luz ⸻ &. the moment her encouragement had carried Luz somewhere she hadn't thought far enough ahead about. As she believed in Luz the way Luz believed in everything . . . &. that ideology in an Demon-Realm had once felt like the right thing until Luz was captured.

Dragging Gus into danger. She had put danger around Gus as she dragged them into an nightmare ⸻ because she had believed . . . when she should have kept everyone protected &. rooted. As Miss.Clawthorne had lost there magic ⸻ almost had been stoned ⸻ &. stood at the edge of something irreversible. While the shambled-door to the human-realm was in Emperor Belos hands. &. the weight of that had never fully left her. Not protecting them the way she should have had an helplessness that doesn't go away.

While the knowledge that being STRONG after the damage isn't the same as stopping it before it began. Because Luz wouldn't have lost her way home. Miss.Clawthorne would not have had fought for Luz &. paid for it. The world would not have taken so much from people she cared &. loved while she stood there in the shape of her failure after the fact. Feeling her skin going cold ⸻ as its not from standing in the rain. Its the way Emperor Belos's voice ⸻ soft as rot ⸻ entered in her mind like something opening without knocking.

But I'll know ⸻ of courses they would know. Emperor Belos . . . always sounded as if knowing gave them the right to take ⸻ judge ⸻ &. press the Demon-Realm beneath there hand until it bent into the shape they wanted it to be. Pushing the weight of there hands on there shoulders from behind ⸻ pressing her down like an command ⸻ feeling spiders crawl beneath every layer of her ⸻ like someone forcing her toward an kneel ⸻ that had always wanted her on her knees. &. because of her Emperor Belos had. That. Damn. Door. The Day of Unity as the Titan intended ⸻ an door that had been broken in the chaos but what if . . . what if ⸻ unlimited patience &. time was all Emperor Belos needed to find an way to fix the door to the human-realm? &. what if there oracle magic didn't need the perfect fix to reach ⸻ an titan ⸻ an very directionless titan ⸻ that heard an voice that sounded like damn-destiny. Always ⸻ Half-A-Witch-Willow. As she stood there &. felt the full weight of Cassians words settling over her the way rain does ⸻ everywhere at once. There was hurt in her face ⸻ but she was holding it all back. While it felt more like trying to understand why something like that hurt so much. While still caring to deeply to walk away from it. As she didn't know if King ⸻ Cassian ⸻ was another missing name in Elias ⸻ traveling ⸻ somewhere in between ⸻ as she didn't know if they needed help ⸻ because they didn't tell anyone ⸻ didn't reach out ⸻ didn't consider that someone might actually be measuring there absence in small &. terrible ways ⸻ but luckily it lived rent free in that head of theres.

Half-A-Witch-Willow ⸻ with an Half-A-Sided-Friendship.

“ It's . . . late ⸻ ” she scraped out like metal against an rainy sidewalk ⸻ politely. As she honestly didn't even know what time it even was because . . . everything was grey &. rainy. Rubbing the back of her neck with her hand as her smokey-quartzs behind rain-streaked glasses gazed at Clover ⸻ ' Escort him ' ⸻ ' Wherever he wants to go Clover ' ⸻ “ ⸻ go home ⸻ Cassian. ” Or somewhere close enough to count. As Clover air-lifted from King's rained-flat curls in an soft-shimmer re-shaped into its staff-form ready to be taken in his hands &. take him wherever he wants.

As Elias was grey &. rainy as she decided it was better to ⸻ what-an-drag ⸻ walk-away with her hands clasped loosely behind rain-soaked-dutch-braids . . . because staying would mean she'd had to admit how badly she had wanted him to ⸻ come back.

Jasper raised an eyebrow at the blunt response from Willow. It seems as though every time he ran into the young witch, they were in some sort of distress. It was information he had tucked away. Interactions with Willow were odd, but Jasper was someone who could understand. "I see," he hummed thoughtfully. Whatever was attached to her seemed to be easily frightened, so the skeleton kept his composure.

Intense blue eyes remained transfixed on the thing Willow was holding back. His head tilted like a curious cat, as if he could solve the mystery with his sight alone. The skeleton was tracking the unknown being back. He was used to being the most terrifying creature in the room. If it meant he would remain safe, he would assert his own dominance.

Working as a teacher for so long made a fondness grow for the younger generation. He was great with children, always had been, but after their encounter in the classroom, Jasper had a soft spot for Willow. If only because he wanted to make sure she stayed out of trouble.

"I'm enjoying them the best I can. I haven't come solo to an event in quite a long time. I don't know what to do with myself without my better half," He admitted with a soft laugh. Once Willow revealed what she was talking to, he nodded and let out an understanding 'ah'. "My mother had a garden of carnivorous plants when I was a boy. Her favorite, Elvira, was a tricky one. It takes quite a lot to injure or even kill a skeleton monster, so rest assured, I'm fine."

His features fell into a more serious expression. He could understand Willow's fears. People tended to make irrational decisions when encountering creatures they didn't know or understand. "Would you like some assistance taking the vine some place safer?"

⸻🌵 WILLOW WAS AWARE OF EVERYTHING SHIFTING AROUND her ⸻ most days felt like being submerged underwater.

Feeling like the world moved above her in blurred lights &. muffled noises while she trys to remember which way is up sometimes.  As her heart felt heavy with the burden of uncertainty since November.  Everything . . . seemed to be evolving.  Leaving her struggling to find herself in the aftermath ⸻ because festivity's like these pretend they are not haunted by absences ⸻ the missing ⸻ but maybe it will only really start to matter when someone who matters goes missing. She isn't doing well ⸻ since the beginning of November.

As she was caught off-guard ⸻ Mr.Skellington quickly became personal &. how much of themselves they laid into the space between them without seeming to notice how dizzying ⸻ dangerous ⸻ &. confusing that was.  An better-half ⸻ she should've looked at there hands ⸻ as she should have known to look prior but never felt the need to ⸻ because working to understanding someone is that hands can tell things about an person.  Greenhouses were not cheap ⸻ neither were carnivorous-plants were not an casual hobby to take up.

Unless someone had $$ ⸻ patience ⸻ as she took notice of Mr.Skellingtons ears for an split-second but they were nothing like hers. While she noticed Mr.Skellington always had an refined look.  As there was the skeleton ⸻ monster ⸻ part.  The fact that Mr.Skellington says it so easily . . . Skeletal-demons don't call themselves monsters.  Smokey-quartz blinking behind glasses as it felt warped.  Mr.Skellington didn't embody ⸻ structural-cruelty ⸻ nor wickedness ⸻ that she had come to associate with monsters like Emperor Belos. “ Why . . . do you think you're a monster ⸻ Mr.Skellington? ” As her innocence outshined her caution as it was dangerous getting personnel with others but she was genuinely confused by that. While Mr.Skellington ⸻ indeed tall ⸻ phased through an wall once &. is curious ⸻ but monster ⸻ doesn't make sense being filed under that word. As she wanted to say ⸻ yes ⸻ to the help but she showcased her bandaged-hands. “  I ⸻ I do want to ⸻ but if I mess up there is nothing like them out there. ”  &. for an while the Carnivorous Underland Vine was focused on Jasper.

All predator edged to strangers ⸻ but it was Willows insecure-emotions that climbed way to high ⸻ &. way to fast as it noticed it ⸻ felt it.  While it turned away from Jasper as its attention was dead set on Willow as chlorophyll-green pulses grew brighter through its thorny-bark flesh. As the Carnivorous Underland Vine striked ⸻ tried to slam itself right into her broken-ribs but she double-overd &. caught it by the thorny-horns in time before it could. Scuffling with it ⸻ playing around ⸻ going weightless for an moment ⸻ as she was lifted of the ground slightly ⸻ “ Oh ⸻ ” “ ⸻ wrestling with me is NOT helping your case right now!!! ”

so he left.

for three straight months, he chased the possibility of another titan across dead coastlines, abandoned towns, forests that hummed too loudly at night, and at least one cave that absolutely contained ghosts… or bats…could be both. he slept in places that probably violated several health codes and survived almost entirely on gas station coffee and spite, and so he kept following the voice in this dream that kept insisting he was close.

spoiler alert: he was not close...at all.

there had been no hidden titan waiting for him at the end of the journey. no long-lost family reunion. no ancient revelation. just some weird symbols carved into walls, increasingly threatening nightmares, and one old fisherman who threw a shoe at him after he accidentally might have sleepwalked onto his boat..rude.

by the time he stumbled back into elias sometime past midnight, exhausted and damp and carrying a backpack full of useless notes that now felt personally offensive, he had reached one very important conclusion: the universe was a comedian…and very very mean.rain drizzled lazily over the city as he stood outside a twenty-four hour convenience store looking like every cryptid warning poster rolled into one. curls now, flattened beneath his hood, boots caked in mud, and there was a concerning amount of glittering dust still clinging to one sleeve from an incident he had decided not to unpack emotionally. the automatic doors slid open behind him as he walked out. 

“just so we’re clear,” he informed the universe with one fist lifted up towards the sky, “if i ever get more prophetic dream, i’m becoming a dentist.” lightning cracked somewhere in the distance, causing him to almost drop the coffee he was holding “heyyy! don’t you dare start with me.”

⸻🍂 WILLOW WAS UNSURE IF THIS WAS AN omen or just another spring storm:

As she &. Clover had spent an few hours with Hunter &. Flapjack. While she walked beside Hunter with there hood half-slipped back with Flapjack tucked close under the hood like an small cardinal-heartbeat. Having conversations about everything &. nothing as she enjoyed listening to which somehow made it all the more important.  While she watched the way there facial expressions take shape under the dim-illumination of neon-shop signs. As Flapjack &. Clover at some point fluttered around creating there own chaos in the rainy-background making Hunter laugh like they'd forgotten to be guarded . . . just the 4 of them wandering nowhere beneath an rain that doesn't burn. She honestly adores them in the quietest way she knew how ⸻ which means she won't say anything at all.

&. everything was blurring grey past 10 ⸻ as grey swallowed everything ⸻ the gold from earlier turned grey. While the buildings around her were like soaked gravestones against an rainy-city as she moved through it with Clover &. the lonicera × ' mandarin ' ⸻ mandarin honeysuckle ⸻ threading into the gaps outside of apartment buildings gone silent.  Still breaking in &. rescuing animals with ribcages showing through fur ⸻ but not all get saved in time. The part that no spell can fix ⸻ it just sits inside her like she had swallowed-glass. As saving the ones left behind isn't really solving the disappearances. As its not even justice. It isn't even getting anywhere closer to answers she needs. Its just . . . standing in the aftermath holding up . . . some invisible structural-instability right before the whole damn thing collapses.

As it all happened so fast. While Clover found King first ⸻ because Clover had always been better at knowing what Willow needed. While she chased after an fire-bee palisman around an corner ⸻ past the blurry illuminated-glow of an 24-hour convenience store . . . where King ⸻ Cassian ⸻ looked like an like an cryptid who had robbed an lost-&.-found bin &. somehow lost. As they were alive in an way that made her own body forget how to move. However Clover reached them first ⸻ happy little tackle ⸻ vibrational-buzzing as they climbed &. settled on the top of there flattened-curled head with an soft-given headbutt to the forehead that would not have harmed or scared an leaf. As she felt happiness first ⸻ brightly ⸻ painfully ⸻ like she was touching an bruise to prove it still hurt.

Its worse when the rain made everything softer except the hurt ⸻ for 3-months ⸻ 3-months was not an number it was every unanswered worry ⸻ fear ⸻ &. ghostly-reminder of what she could lose ⸻ again. “ Start with you? ” As her voice came out to sharp &. trembling an little around the edges not knowing how to address them ⸻ King ⸻ Cassian ⸻ “ ⸻ I have been waiting 3-months! The storm can file a complaint &. get in line. ” &. for an moment she felt the way her magic restlessly ⸻ almost completely out of her own control ⸻ stirred the roots beneath the pavement desiring to break towards the surface. As she was to scared to move an single inch because she isn't so sure she's in control. As the rain slipped down her glasses . . . hopefully hiding her own fear behind smokey-quartzs ⸻ but it might not be enough.

“ You . . . scared me. ” 

⸻🍂 WILLOW STOOD INSIDE THE ELIAS MUSEUM OF History &. Art. There heart pounded in there chest with every passing second.

The museum itself hummed with the faint-echoes of others footsteps &. conversations. As warm light poured in through the tall windows illuminating the paintings &. sculptures ⸻ casting gradual-soft shadows onto the marble floor. While this was there 7th visit ⸻ each time more hopeful then the last there filter-films capture what was hidden &. unexplained from within. They braced there ' Rollieflord-XZ ' an camera-prototype they commissioned with both there hands. It was not an normal looking camera ⸻ exactly. This camera-prototype looked like 3 different ideas that had been taken apart ⸻ argued with ⸻ &. rebuilt into commission by an certain someone with stubborn roots ⸻ mostly Rollieflex ⸻ part Rolliecord ⸻ &. Chuzhaos inner-digital-components. While this camera-prototype felt heavy in there hands ⸻ an lifeline in an world that had felt it was spinning out of there own control ⸻ with weighted expectations. As there mind was miles away ⸻ tangled ⸻ &. stubbermined-locked. While for 3-months straight ⸻ of Cassian chasing some possibility out beyond the edge of reason ⸻ left without an word ⸻ ghosted ⸻ &. returned with an change in them: As if they had brought back an shadow of another self ⸻ coming back with glittering-dust &. symbols that left more questions than answers.  While they rotated an metal-crank clockwise ⸻ until the filter-frame counter showed ‘ 0 ┊ 0riginal ( Normal ) ’ ⸻ looking down at the viewfinder ⸻ being there to check the film-filters they had made themselves as trail &. error had become its own language. 

As they weren’t there to look at paintings ⸻ but past them.  In the kind of way they were looking for what shouldn't be there through the film-filters they created.  But an presence had arrived without an sound ⸻ as there proximity being subjugated &. compromised without touching!!!  While an still-jolt of surprise stunned them as they snap-shut the viewfinder. As if what they had in there hands were contraband ⸻ getting caught doing something wrong ⸻ for an awful moment they felt like they were 12-years-old ⸻ because there reflex showed signs regardless of them not doing anything wrong to begin with. While the strangers question . . . made there smokey-quartzs behind glasses squint at the paintings ⸻ needing an moment to re-calibrate. As they blinked &. gave the question some thought ⸻ but didn't realize how . . . strange the question really was. “ It . . . must be agonizing ⸻ ” while they felt an playfulness “ ⸻ I mean ⸻ the food must taste terrible in paintings. ” Only to be struck with wishing they honestly hadn't been asked.  As the question turned to an different question entirely ⸻ while it felt like Emperor Belos's hands closing around there throat. Having an portrait . . . locked in there mind. Locked in memory enough that the golden-frame stopped being beautiful &. started to become an cage. “ . . . lonely. Being stuck . . . in an moment while people just keep . . . walking ⸻ ” being reminded the way The Golden Guard carried the weight of Emperor Belos message ⸻ the titan's will ⸻ in an body that was covered in scars no one saw &. still growing. &. growing up they had believed in The Golden Guard ⸻ but not once . . . ever wondering whether ⸻ The Golden Guard ⸻ was ever tired ⸻ frightened ⸻ or if any of it was what they wanted ⸻ as they believed it because The Golden Guard believed in the cause. While they didn't realize there was someone ⸻ underneath The Golden Guard worth asking. As there was ⸻ Hunter. Hunter who had scars &. bad sleeping habits &. to much courage shoved into an golden-heart that was never given room to be young. While how much of Hunter could have stayed in that golden-cage. How easily . . . the person they know now could have never existed at all if they never had met them. “ ⸻ past. Everyone deciding what there worth means but never knowing who they really were behind the painted-expression. ”

“ Only to leave. Leave them when they're done admiring ⸻ glorifying the moment there frozen-in-frame for justifying the means &. the cause ⸻ leaving them in an abusive-cycle ⸻ an eternal loop locked in . . . You know I'm seriously going to have some strange nightmares after this. ” Because that was going to spiral in there mind for an month ⸻ as they might not be able to physically face Hunter for an while. As they thought they needed an distraction from Cassian but not that KIND of distraction. “ Why in the titans name did you think to ask that kind of question? ”

He watched with mild interest as she picked up the discarded flyer. "There's a bin back there, I think," he said, pointing vaguely behind him, slurping again at his drink. Krit ignored her as she spoke, circling around so he could see and read Orion's headstone more fully.

"Can't a guy enjoy Dickens in the spring?" There really wasn't much to the headstone. No essay, no loved ones left behind. He was dead. Gone. Part of him wondered if he should begin kicking aside some dirt to check that the bastard was actually in there, but he figured his (unexpected) company was going to be a little too sensitive for that.

He stopped his circling and faced her with an amused expression. "...am I in trouble? It's really not that deep," he started, slipping into a well-practised mask, "you got a mysterious recent death, a creepy headstone, and all in the most haunted place in town? Selfie," he mimed taking a picture of her with his hand. "And what are you doing here, paying your respects? Did you know him?" Krit asked, arching an eyebrow, paying more attention.

⸻🍂 &. THEY STILL THREW IT ON THE ground? As she looked at them mildly-familiarized.

While that reminded them of someone they used to know. “ Thanks ⸻ sir-ghostly-slurps-alot-of-past-decembers. I will remember that for next time. ” As her tone was light &. playful regardless of the chill beginning to seep into her bones. While she squinted at his comment ⸻ as her mind raced. As her thoughts rippled like the roots of an plant seeking water in dry-soil. Either this is an human-term she didn't know much about . . . or where dicks something seasonal in the human realm?

She would ask Luz about it later instead of asking an stranger. Look at them both ⸻ demoninning without realizing it ⸻ in the kind of way she also wanted to uproot Orions coffin to see if there body was inside. Only to have unplanned-company meet in the middle. As she kneeled down at the base of ‘ Orion Bartholomew ’ headstone ⸻ her fingertips resting against the stone first. While she thought the stone would feel cold but . . . sunlight had collected there all afternoon.

While that surprised her. As the warmth felt . . . soft &. inviting as that was the wrong words for grave markers. Yet she leaned her entire body against the headstone feeling something in her chest respond to it with an ache she hadn't braced herself for yet. While this grave was tied to many missing names &. to many questions no one would give an straight answer to. They died knowing the truth of it all. But Sir-Slurps-Alots phone came up to view ⸻

catching her at leaning against the grave ⸻ as her smokey-quartz behind glasses looked directly into the lens with the flat patience of someone who had been underestimated enough times to have stopped being polite about it an long time ago. While she lets sunset-green rise in her pupils ⸻ concentrating just enough of her magic to catch the glass of her glasses to bend her reflection. &. when the mimed-picture was taken of her ⸻ it didn't take all of her if it was taken for real.

Only her dutch-braided ebony-jade colored hair ⸻ nanochip-hairclip⸻ the distinctive pointed ears showed clear against the headstone ⸻ but an sunset-green sunglare showed someone feminine there but without an good image of there face. “ No. Not directly. ” As she gently-spoke in an different tongue “ aún no ⸻ pero espero cambiar eso. ” As she could feel something ⸻ in an eerie ⸻ more plant-kind-of way that made her want to stay.

hopper didn’t answer right away... just let the silence stretch a second too long, like he was deciding whether she was worth the effort. then he stepped out from behind one of the older headstones, boots scuffing lightly against the overgrown ground.

“relax,” he said flatly, dragging a hand over the back of his neck. “if i was something you should worry about, you wouldn’t have heard me.”

but, he was someone she should worry about... his eyes flicked over her, taking in the careful footing, the way she stood like she actually meant to be here. that alone earned a faint, crooked smirk. “what’s your deal?” he added, tone tipping toward dry amusement. “this isn’t exactly a scenic shortcut.” his gaze shifted briefly to the creeping moss and rot around them before landing back on her.

⸻🍂 WILLOWS SMOKEY-QUARTZS BEHIND METAL-FRAMED GLASSES stared at them for an moment.

Then covertly reached into her adventure bag an grabbed an acorn &. . . . did the most logical-thing she could think of ⸻ flicking it at them ⸻ without context. As she surprisingly watched it bounce of the other. Something solid ⸻ someone solid. “ Okay ⸻ great! Good news. You're solid. ” As if her conductive ⸻ &. very reasonable acorn-field-test made the tension in her relax. While she exhaled with relief ⸻ feeling the burning ⸻ splintering ache against her own ribs &. burn-out. As she was taking the effort to stand there looking unbothered. But it was the faint ⸻ crooked grin they had that ⸻ made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

As she answered with another acorn from her adventure-bag ⸻ hurling the acorn at them ⸻ again. Watching it as it arced &. surprisingly hit them where the first acorn had. “ I'm just ⸻ foraging &. committing financial crimes against squirrels. ” As it wasn't entirely an lie but it certainly was not all the truth. While she could only hope her dry-commentary she was inflicting on squirrels catches them off-guard? As she needed the pollen ⸻ the ghostly-ooze ⸻ the moss &. the rot. “ I honestly wasn't really looking for scenic anyway. But the counter question I have is ⸻ what are you doing . . . are you lost ⸻ or need any help with something? ”