Chapter Text
“It would be nice wouldn’t it? To run away…”
A soft heat rose from the candles surrounding the ballroom, the welcoming warmth summoning guests to the centre of the room. With joyous faces guests danced, as joyous faces with no features could be. They gathered like soldiers in a time of war—line by line, pair by pair. Each guest stepped in gleeful time to the sound of the small orchestra in the corner of the room.
As people flocked to the centre of the floor, smaller groups were left to mingle over the blaring music. The warmth continued. The windows however, acted as a golden gateway into winter wonderland before them.
Cold, frosted glass, and a small face plastered softly onto it. Unamused, they sat upon one of many delicate window seats, eyes fixated upon the snowy grass before them. They wanted, no, ached to be out there. Anywhere but here, somewhere else— perhaps their room? No, not enough windows, too many drapes and dust bunnies that failed to be tamed by the insolent maids.
Harper wondered if the outside was much colder than they anticipated. They mean, it’s not like they were allowed to wander during the damn season. Colds, the Flu, Pneumonia, even hypothermia for hell's sake, were the reasons handed to them by their parents. It was particularly troubling, especially when big parties weren’t their thing. In any normal circumstances, Harper would be skidding around the hall; transformed into a makeshift training room. Knees and elbows bound tightly in leather guards, wooden swords in their hands as they slept on light feet towards their target.
However, in these trying times, they would simply prefer death. That is, death over facing another dumb party on another inconspicous day like today. In fact:
“Not having fun?” a soft hand made its way through their hair, instantly calming. They could feel the smirk rise upon the hand-owners pale face. Sighing—
“Fuck off Mishka” a soft wheeze made its way up from the offenders chest. Harper rolled their eyes, a light smile donned upon their face as they glared back. Mishka’s hand weaved its way through Harper's long brown hair; she knew they were enjoying it in secret, despite the fireless stare.
“It’s just, I don't know…. not my thing” Harper muttered.
Mishka made her to the space next to Harper, removing her hand from a silently protesting head.
“I would—”
“—rather prefer death?” Mishka finished their sentence with a chuckle. This conversation has been repeated many times before; countless events of all calibre’s, nothing new.
Harper nodded, rolling their eyes ever so slightly. “Its so fucking infuriating, why do I have to attend these stupid parties? I don't even know these people''
“You know me” another laugh rose from Mishka’s chest.
“I’ve always known you, you’re always here no matter what” Harper began to lean on the taller teen, their head falling upon a padded shoulder with ease.
Mishka had always been there, since they could remember. The earliest memory being set on a wintery day such as this; soft snow falling behind another frosty window, they sat in a similar position:
In walked their father, a rather tall, large man; they looked downwards to see their father holding the hand of a smaller girl. Pale, and shivering under a large coat; their face dusted with soot and dust particles like freckles on cheeks. Their father had mentioned something about the girl being their new bodyguard per-say; Harper had wondered how a girl as scrawny as that would protect them; they failed to bring it up to their father. Mesmerized, they stared straight into the girl's grey eyes, and smiled lightly. Barely listening to their rambling father.
“Hey” Mishka gently nudged them into reality. “You’re doing that thing again-”
“Dissociating?”
“Yeah that thing, you’re safe here with me; in fact, I think the party would be much better if it actually involved the two of us”
Harper's brows furrowed in confusion, “I don't wanna do shit, seriously- what are you doing?”
Mishka pulled them up with a heave, grasping their smaller hand in her own. She smiled gently once again, eyes peering deeply into their own.
Harper was being pulled; and they were rather angrily pulling back, standing their ground. They didn’t wanna be involved. Another tug—
“Mish stop!” a loosened grasp.
Mishka started with slight shock, regret pooling in their features.
“I’m..,” Harper sighed “I need to go.” They walked a few steps before Mishka spoke again.
“Wait! We could…. We could go together!”
Harper turned around, their head twitching to the side in mild confusion. Not that they were actually confused; moreso, surprised. If Mishka was really suggesting what they thought they were suggesting, running away together would be even more of a possibility. Free from small spaces, from security, from restraint; it was rather appetizing.
“What?”
Mishka’s expression hardened, “we could run away— the two of us; away from all this. Find our own place and purpose”
A soft laugh arose from Harper. Oh she's dead serious. It's not like it wasn’t a thought that constantly plagued their mind; yet hearing it from someone so usually adamant about stability was grounding.
“It would be nice, wouldn’t it? To run away” Harper sighed- partly wondering about the possibility of this happening. When and where? We are still so young, would we even get far?
As if Mishka read their thoughts,“With you; I think anything is possible ” she grabbed their hand once again, squeezing softly in excitement.
“That's pretty cringe, I'm not gonna to lie to you” They scrunch their nose in embarrassment; Mishka giggled. It was the two of them. No parties packed with people, no overbearing parents, no rules.
They sat, as time paced on; staring out the frosted window in content reverie.
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“MISHKA!!”
It had been a long time since that conversation. Years even. The possibility of escaping to another land became even more visible, since Harper turned 18 the month prior. With that turn came change. Unexpected changes too.
It all started with a looking glass. The one within Harper's bathroom to be exact, a small, rather plain mirror in contrast to a rather grand bathroom. It held many secrets.
Harper had been standing in the centre of said mirror. Their frustration for their current skin condition became even more apparent as they leaned closer to the glass. Harper paused, glancing at the glass itself— shocked. Little pixels of green and purple could be seen, barely noticeable though. They locked like some sort of barrier, a thin wall of mulicoloured blocks- glitching, flickering in the gentle light that peered through the bathroom window.
Harper had frozen at the sight, they hadn’t seen such a thing. Ever. If this was magic, it certainly wasn’t one they’d heard about before. Harper leaned into the glass further in suspicion, and gasped when their nose and chin flew straight through the glass af it were thin air. Now that is definitely magic. Harper had tested this further, dipping their entire head through the mirror, cringing at the feeling of being underwater. Dark; no light source in sight. With a curious hand they reached into the mirror— a book. Harper's hands fumbled to grasp the thick object, and pulled it out with a harsh tug.
They weren’t to read it- or perhaps wasn’t quick enough. The door swung open only for Mishka to yank the book out of Harper's grasp before they could get a protest in. nothing much was said; and when things were, they were relatively short. Something along the lines of ‘that's my book’ and more bullshit in accordance with ‘do not read’. Whatever. Harper was in too much of a state to complain, endlessly worrying about this little journey into their looking glass. This wasn’t the last time.
In fact— many more times rung about. The mirror was only one part of the changes that riddled Harper. These pixelated walls, whatever they were called, appeared in various other places. In round circles plastered on the walls, on drawers and desks, between the trees. Always molding to any surface it found itself on. They were easy to ignore.
The other Harpers were not. They would walk around corners, only to see another version of themselves run off into these little pixelated walls, gone in the blink of an eye. Disturbing to say the least. When vaguely asking ‘did you see that?’ they were met with numerous negative responses, even with Mishka too.
Speaking of the girl; usually attached to Harper's hip, in certain hours of the night she went missing. After supper, she muttered a quick apology before hastily running to her room. That was all Harper and her parents would get. She would return to wake Harper up, pulling back their blinds; a tired smile pulled upon her cheeks. Concerning to say the least.
Harper's concerns were pushed to the side after some heavy thinking; who’s to say this isn’t something positive? Their mind was supplied. It was true, despite the confusion this newfound ‘power’ proposed multiple things about their and Mishka’s future. You are special, bound for something greater. It's time to take up that offer Harper's thoughts suggested.
The offer to run away was taken. They were 18, strong and invincible in their own eyes, aching for the chance at something new. Mishka was just there for the ride— guiding it. Mishka jumped at the chance to make Harper happy, and it wasn’t the first time they had done so.
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Harper shook their heads, they needed to run faster.
And they did. Misha’s hand grasped tightly around their own, she guided them down a makeshift path. Said path was barely visible, only lit in freckles by the small torch held by Harper. The path weaved in between buildings, the buildings of the estate they grew up in, the forest, and upon the outskirt of town. Tight spaces and shriveled staircases made up to route, the two tred hastily on light feet towards their destination.
Quiet. They both had to be; the guards of the estate were already suspicious— wouldn’t you be suspicious if one of your men was found knocked out on the dirt floor? His communicator was taken; They had a right to be disturbed. Mishka had stolen it and battered the man, much to the surprise of Harper; yet, it had to be done. Not much was carried, a backpack worn by Mishka held only the necessary amount of supplies. Food, water canister, communicator, first aid- the likes. They would be travelling amongst the forest, different biomes, gathering from the land was a must.
Harper was quickly running out of breath, slowing down momentarily. “How much further is the border?” they stuttered. Continuing the slower pace, Mishka squinted and turned her head, facing mishka.
“Maybe another couple of kilometres? We need to keep pace, or they’ll hunt us down”
Harper groaned, being dragged faster by Mishka. They had run past a couple of windows earlier, much to the shock of the families within; the guards were notified rather quickly. The chase had begun. Mishka was armed with an axe, ready to maim anyone who stood as a threat, those in their way— Harper’s way more so. The lack of armor was made up for in brute strength, Harper knew that her toned arms could bring anything down before they laid eyes on them, a comforting thought.
“HEY!” numerous yells rang through the winding paths, multiple heavy footsteps closing the distance between them and their guards.
“Ah fuck” Mishka provided smartly, “we need to move!” Harper really couldn’t go any faster, but attempted to. Angrily flickering flames and readily angered men filled Harper's vision as they looked back. Men, Armed with what looked like bows and daggers, came bustling down the narrow path- gaining on the two teens in hot red determination.
In the midst of their hurried escape, an arrow flew past Mishka, barely grazing her forehead. Harper had screamed, both prepared for the onslaught of arrows and throwing knives known to come soon in their direction.
Mishka cursed again, dodging the numerous arrows. The men had turned violent it seemed. Heading straight for the blonde target that is Mishka. Harper had noticed this too.
‘They aren’t pointing at me’ Harper pondered, eyes widening in fear. ‘They’re aiming at Mishka, the traitor, the villain kidnapping their beloved’ it’s all too clear.
Mishka on the other hand, had had enough. The men were too close, close enough that the heat of their torches could be felt ever so slightly. With a huff she bent slightly while running, slowing as she dragged her fingers along the ground.
With a soft whisper, barely audible for Harper, flames were lit along the stone path. The flames made its way to the men, surrounding their area in furious bouts of red and orange. The guards yelled in anguish, some making it through the fiery wall. Others stayed behind, whether injured or not. For the flames had made its way gently through the wooden buildings in the path of flames- it had spread.
This however, gave the two a head start. Harper had chuckled in amazement at the sight, not particularly interested in how Mishka had just sent a wall of flames to the men in question with the touch of her hands. Harper continued to stare at the destruction from a distance, watching as some men continued to run through the flames—
From one of the men behind them, an arrow whirlied its way through the smoke.
“MISHKA!” Harper screamed.
Mishka yet out a loud yelp as the barbed arrow lodged its way deep into her shoulder. Stumbling, she reached her free hand to the wound, clutching it in pain. Tears made their way to Harper's eyes as they stared at their friend, unable to do anything. They needed to run.
“Are you ok-”
“We’re almost there.” Mishka evaded the question with a grimace, squeezing their hand. A sharp turn to the right, along another winding dirt path; trees filtered out the buildings-now mere shacks. The smoke was still present, fire filling the pair's lungs as they carried on. Their home, burned in flames— now is not the time.
Mishka began to lightly stumble. Harper looked away, favouring to look ahead rather than the blood seeping from Mishka's aching shoulder. We’re almost there indeed Harper mused. The Border, A blue and green pixelated wall, small transparent blocks interlocking like layered bricks, was far from what Harper expected. Actually favouring this more so than some impenetrable fortress filled with armed men. It almost felt too easy to them.
They had come to a stop, right in front of the wall, the hazy fumes from the fire becoming a distant memory for a brief moment. Mishka stupidly stumbled around for a brief moment, holding a hand to their head. Harper grabbed onto their free arm to provide stability. Mishka uttered a soft thanks, and proceeded to tap in some sort of pattern; much to the confusion of Harper.
Not even a second later, the wall emitted sparse sparks, before opening a small gateway for the two to fit through. Although Harper had absolutely no idea what was going on, they continued, following an increasingly slowing Mishka.
The wall had closed behind them with a soft woosh. They were no longer home.