Work Text:
Soar. Baroness. Armagnac. Jardin.
Sophie Foster didn’t have a favorite color.
For years, she had been partial to teal. More than partial- obsessed with the color. Teal like Fitz’s eyes, teal like the heart-shaped necklace he gave her, teal like the dress she had worn to the matchmakers. To Sophie, it had been the perfect color- bright and beautiful, perpetual and perfect. Everything Fitz had been for her.
Honeydew. Debonair. Rayo de Sol. Valentine.
Except Fitz wasn’t perfect, and she couldn’t expect him to be. It wasn't fair to either of them- she knew that now. That infatuation had met the same fate as her hopes of being matched.
And so Sophie gave Biana her teal dresses. After all, they brought out her eyes, and Biana never turned down clothes. Sophie herself went back to wearing black. It better hid the bloodstains and scars of war. That was her purpose now, wasn’t it? To battle to the last breath, the last drop of blood? To give herself completely to a war no one else could win?
She gave Linh the ribbons, collected over years of gift-giving. At least Linh would use them for something practical- dressing up her murcat, or tying back her hair while she trained. Sophie cut her own hair short. It was easier to fight in, without the worry that a stray breeze could cost her her life- or, far worse, the life of one of her friends.
Tam caught Sophie’s eye as she handed over the ribbons. He was with Biana now- happy with her- surely he understood what it was like to be caught by that spectacular color. Lucky him- it was clear from the way Biana looked at him that he would get to keep it.
Free Spirit. Eggwhite. Black Magic. Acanthus.
Sophie kept the heart necklace. Tucked away in an empty desk drawer, in a box the size of her palm. After all, her past self was still a part of her, and so was Fitz- his love, his kindness, his tenderness. And now, his friendship, though it would never be the same. Not ever.
But without the teal to ground her, guide her, to keep her mind focused, Sophie was empty. Lost. Alone.
Envy. High Strung. Cilantro. Breathtaking.
So Sophie turned to the other colors, to the breadth of the rainbow. She talked to Dex and Kesler, who, because Slurps and Burps occasionally mixed paint, had an array of color swatches for her to rifle through.
Butterscotch. Peach Blossom. Turkish Tile. Manitou Blue.
She threw the swatches in frustration, and they swayed in the air, then settled on the floor with all the grace of a Moonlark’s feathers. Useless. Useless, all of this. There wasn’t any color that could draw her in like teal had, haunt her like it had.
There wasn’t any color that could fix her, and now she was falling apart.
Keefe Sencen’s favorite color was gold.
For years, he had been partial to it. More than partial- obsessed. Gold like the flecks in Sophie’s eyes, gold like his favorite notebook, gold like the color of his dreams. In his eyes, it was beautiful in ways most people never saw.
To others, gold was the color of trophies, of riches. It was the color of pride and conceit. They forgot it was the color of sunsets, of stars and autumn leaves. It was the color of ordinary things, yet beautiful things, be it swirled throughout the sky or dancing in the wind.
And so gold, to Keefe, was the color of humility- a virtue that had never come naturally to him. He glorified himself, or he despised himself, always grappling with his own sense of worth. As he saw it, gold was his perfect balance. His soulmate- if such can be said of a mere color, of course.
But like the sun in the sky, or leaves in the breeze, gold never seemed to linger for long.
She had made her choice. And Keefe had let it happen, for the wind cannot be constrained, nor would he wish to control it. Let the leaves go where they will, to drift through the sky, and should the wind change course, well, he would here. Waiting.
And the wind had changed course, and it had brought her back.
Hurting. Broken.
It was torture to see her that way. Her brown eyes dull and empty, her beautiful blonde hair chopped short out of frustration. No, not frustration. Out of apathy. Out of the need for control over some aspect of her life.
This time, Keefe had realized, it was his turn to save her.
He straightened his cape, mussed up his hair, and made his way out the door.
Sophie stared dully at the swatches scattered across the floor around her. Like pieces of a mosaic, not quite finished. Like all her broken pieces.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. She was such an idiot. Who was she to think she could find another favorite color? To find another pillar to hold up her identity?
There was no color that could fill her cracks. There was nothing that could glue her back together. There was nothing left for her. Nothing at all.
Then Keefe Sencen strolled into the room, wearing his insufferable smirk.
“Hey, Keefe,” she said, without enthusiasm. “What do you need?”
He titled his head. “Come on, Foster. Is that anyway to greet a friend?”
She forced herself to smile. “Sorry. It’s been a rough day.”
“I can feel that much.” He glanced at the floor. “What are all these?” He knelt to the ground, picking up a swatch and reading the paint color aloud. “ Gecko ? What’s that? Sounds like another kind of cookie.”
Sophie shrugged, which wasn’t really an answer. But she couldn’t find the motivation to explain.
Then she felt his thumb under her chin, lifting up her head until their eyes met. His gaze was soft and warm and… blue. Bright, piercing ice blue.
Too bright.
She looked away. She couldn’t stand the sight of a color so intense.
“Come on, Foster,” Keefe said softly. “Talk to me. I’m an Empath, remember? I get it. I know how you feel already, but can you tell me why?”
Part of Sophie wanted to answer. To let the tears spill out, to bury her face in his arms, to tell him how lost she felt.
But the other half- the part that chanted selfish, lazy, weak, in the back of her mind- well, the other half was stronger.
It wouldn’t be fair of her to drag him into this. He was Fitz’s best friend, Biana’s first crush, and, as far as Alden was concerned, virtually a Vacker himself. How could he understand the pain of that color- that beautiful color- and how it had torn her apart? How could she expect him to side with her?
No. She was the Moonlark. She wasn’t supposed to need help. She was supposed to be able to heal herself the way she healed broken minds. Fixing things- making them better- was what she was created for.
Which meant that telling Keefe would only prove she was a failure.
But when she opened her mouth to tell him to go-
Well, no words came out.
Sophie looked at him again, training her eyes on his forehead, away from that vivid blue. She shook her head. She couldn’t tell him, wouldn’t tell him.
“Okay,” he said softly. “But I’m here if you change your mind. And if you don’t want to talk, well, I thought maybe we should go see the sunset. Grady and Edaline said you haven’t left the house in a while, so-”
“No!” she yelped, taking Keefe by surprise. The sunset… the sunset would be brilliant, with red and orange and yellow and who knew what else. Too many colors. And too much like fire. Like Everblaze.
Keefe’s brow furrowed. “Um, okay. Wasn’t expecting that strong of a reaction, but-”
“It’s not you,” she told him. “It’s just- the colors. The colors are too bright right now.”
He nodded slowly. “Okay. But maybe you should at least check up on Silveny. I stopped by the enclosure earlier, and she seemed kinda lonely.” He paused. “I can go with you, if it helps.”
Silveny . Another friend, of sorts, she’d relied on too much. Sophie had felt her trying to cheer her up lately, sending her dreams and memories, but it never lasted. Nothing did.
When she hesitated, Keefe added, “We don’t have to look at the sunset, Sophie. You can face the other way the whole time.”
She blinked. “Sophie?”
Keefe gave a grin- cocky and oddly endearing as usual. “It’s your name, isn’t it? Come on.” he got to his feet, taking her hand and pulling her up with him. “Let’s go.”
And maybe because she was sick of thumbing through swatches, or maybe because the feel of her hand in his felt right - Sophie went along, and left the colors behind.
“Hey, Glitterbutt!” Keefe called, waving. “Look who I brought!”
A chorus of whinnies were the response from Silveny, Greyfell, and the twins.
“I think they missed you,” he noted.
“They missed you. Do you have any idea how loudly Silveny is shouting your name right now?”
He grinned. “Come on, Foster. We all know you’re much cooler than me by far. Fantastic hair and all.” He reached over and touched the ends of her hair, just past her ears. “Nice haircut, by the way. And I feel that self-consciousness! I’m serious. It looks good.”
She shrugged. “I don’t really care how it looks. It’s easier to deal with this way.”
“Well, you could have done a lot worse.” There was silence for a moment- and as always, Keefe dealt with it by cracking a joke. “You think I should try that style?”
Sophie snorted- just a glimmer of a smile on her lips. “You’d look ridiculous.”
“Really? See, but thought it would be a hit.” He struck a pose, one hand cupping the back of his head like a shampoo model.
And though Sophie didn’t giggle, the wave of emotion he felt from her was just as encouraging.
Of course he knew how this had happened. He knew how she’d fallen into this deep, dark hole.
Fitz.
It wasn’t his fault, Keefe knew. But it wasn’t Sophie’s either. He should have known when they got together. He’d felt it in his bones, that they weren’t right for each other.
Yet he hadn’t interfered. How could he have? It wasn’t his right, his place to get between two people he loved.
But sometimes he wondered if he should have, if only to spare both of them all this pain.
Since the breakup, he’d been shoving away his guilt, lodging it in a quiet place in the back of his mind with every other bad memory- of which there was no shortage. Because if he let himself feel guilty, if he blamed himself for what had happened, he could break.
Part of him- the part that had listened to every one of his father’s insults, had believed every slight and every lie, didn’t care if he broke. At times, it almost wanted to, if only to escape the weight of his mistakes.
But he knew Sophie would care. He felt it in every emotion that radiated from her.
And while he learned to love himself… well, for now he could love Sophie instead.
Sophie, for her part, knew exactly what Keefe was trying to do, and she couldn’t decide whether to be exasperated or grateful. For the time being, she decided, she would reserve judgement.
Keefe was just being a friend, she told herself. She would do the same thing in his place. She had done the same thing, back when they had just discovered who exactly his mother was and what she had done.
Keefe had been hurting. And she- along with Fitz, Biana, Dex and so many others- had reached out to him.
Now he was doing the same for her. Well, she didn’t need it- even if she appreciated the sentiment.
Because she was born to be this way, wasn’t she? To give away her life, her sense of self, for the sake of the Lost Cities. But if Keefe wanted to help- if it soothed the ache of his own trauma- she would play along for his sake. In fact, it was kind of sweet of him.
They arrived at the alicorn enclosure, and Silveny was more than enthusiastic.
SOPHIE MISS! SOPHIE MISS!
“Hi, Silveny,” Sophie said as the alicorn nuzzled her. “I missed you, too.”
SOPHIE OKAY? SOPHIE OKAY?
Although she knew he couldn’t hear them, Sophie’s eyes slid to Keefe. I’m… doing fine, I guess.
Silveny paused, probably detecting the lie in the words. Sophie felt her sending memories, visions of blue sky and orange flowers.
Too bright.
She pushed the images away. Not right now, Silveny, she transmitted. The thought of more colors filling her mind made her sick, almost nauseous. It reminded her of when her abilities had first malfunctioned when she was thirteen. When the light stung her eyes and made her dizzy.
The first time her relationship with Fitz had been strained, and the first time she saw Keefe as more than her crush’s best friend. She didn’t ever want to feel that way- overwhelmed by brokenness and guilt- again. Yet here she was, making herself relive it all once more.
This is different, she told herself.
“Their eyes are beautiful, aren’t they?” Keefe said, reaching out to pet Silveny. Sophie was struck by the gentleness in his movements.
“They really are.” She noticed him staring at her, and again she was caught by the intensity of his ice blue eyes. “What are you looking at?”
He glanced away. “Nothing.” And it was then Sophie realized- as bright and striking as it was, ice blue really was a beautiful color.
She had fallen for one shade of blue, and turned her back on it, too. Maybe she could fall for another.
She was tempted. She really was.
But she knew she couldn't do it.
Blue was the color in the eyes of every elf. The one feature that set her apart from her species, her friends, her family. And she had learned her lesson when it came to idolizing it. Infatuation wasn’t healthy, wasn’t good. A slightly different shade didn’t change that.
She looked back at Silveny’s eyes, the ones Keefe had called so beautiful. Brown and gold and not unlike her own. Maybe she couldn’t rely on ice blue to fill the cracks this time. Neither could she fill them with brown alone. Not even with gold.
But that didn’t mean she had to forsake it altogether.
Maybe she didn’t have to play along. Maybe her broken pieces really could fit back together.
“Keefe,” she said suddenly. “You’re an artist.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That I am, Foster. Any specific reason why you pointed that out?”
She turned to face him. “I want to know. What color do you get when you mix ice blue and gold?”
He considered it for a minute. “Well, gold is pretty close to yellow, and yellow and blue make green.”
“Green,” Sophie repeated.
“Yep. The color of mourning. Cheery, isn’t it?”
He was right. But also wrong, in a fundamental way.
“No,” Sophie said, turning back to Silveny. “The color of life.”
She took in the leaves, the trees, the grass beneath her feet. The sunset at her back bathed it all in warm orange light.
And for once, the broad array of hues didn’t hurt to look at.
The world was green, and alive with it. Nature wasn’t interested in war, or genetics, or heart-shaped necklaces resting on its neck. It lived for the sake of living, thriving no matter what was thrown at it- the alicorns were proof of that. And every creature, every organism, relied on each other for survival.
It was a delicate system. But it was by far the best.
And maybe- just maybe- she could let life fill the cracks Fitz had left. Not another obsession. Not grim resignation.
Life.
And when the final battle came- as she had always known it would- she would remember it was life she was fighting for.
Yes, she was mourning. Mourning for a future- for a relationship- that hadn’t come to pass.
But she was allowed to mourn. Mourn, and when she was ready, move on.
Sophie took Keefe’s hand.
She’d found her new favorite color.