Chapter Text
The sun always sets slowly in the Valley. Late winter coats the place in a soft snowy blanket, and the bare trees’ branches bear home to the birds that perch there, bright in their colours and starkly contrasted against the bleak landscape.
It’s late afternoon, the sun is beginning to retreat behind the mountain peaks, casting the sky in a pretty display of rose and lilac and barely-there tangerine. A soft, cool breeze passes through, gently shaking the trees and promising a storm to come.
The hotel situated in the Valley’s centre is faded reds, cracking wood and carefully placed slate. It’s not an overbearing presence; rather, it’s small, barely two stories up, with only a few flickering lanterns lighting the surrounds.
The boy who trims the potted plants outside seems louder and brighter than any of it, somehow. With sunshine hair and eyes bluer than a jay’s wing, he goes about his business cheerily, alone in the snow.
The coat he wears is fluffy and thick, made of an animal hide that can’t be placed. He takes large, stomping steps with boots that are barely holding together, a pair of secateurs held tight in his grip.
“Last one?” he mumbles hopefully, stretching for a half-wilted rose that sits in a pot so faded it may well have been painted gray in the first place.
He pulls it towards himself, and sets about trimming it with neat precision, clearing it of any infected leaves or overgrowth. It’s clear he’s been doing this for a long time, the expertise showing in his every movement.
A passerine bird warbles out a quiet, pretty song as he finishes, setting the plant back where it was before. He shields his eyes as he looks towards the dying sun, a gust of wind rocking him as he does so.
He smiles fondly, gently, and turns around, a hand already outstretched to greet the newcomer. “Spirit Bomb, right?”
The odd creature, half in and half out of existence, tilts it’s head at him. “You are?”
“Red Wine.” The boy bows dramatically, almost mockingly, “But you can call me Tommy. I don’t understand the insistence with the name, really.”
Spirit Bomb chuckles, it’s odd tail flicking. “This place is… Charming.”
Tommy grins, and it’s as bright as the sun, stretching wide. “That’s Earth for you. Welcome to the Valley of Souls. Come on inside out of the snow.”
“Snow?” Spirit Bomb casts it’s gaze around the Valley, eyes wide with childlike wonder. “The white stuff?”
“Ding ding ding,” Tommy says, poorly imitating a gameshow host. “Cold as hell, too. It’ll kill you if you ain’t careful- though that wouldn’t be an issue for you.”
“Are you normally so… unprofessional towards guests?” Spirit Bomb sounds amused, not at all upset, and by the way it holds itself, Tommy’s almost positive he’s made a new friend.
“Only when they have coolass names.” Tommy glances back towards the sun, and the sliver of light the two have left as they stand in a landscape blanketed with white. “Phil- White Crow, that is- should be here in the morning. There’s regeneration waiting in your room for you.”
Spirit Bomb turns it’s attention to the small, beaten down hotel. “Regeneration sounds nice.”
“I hear only good things,” Tommy replies, and pushes open the hotel door, wincing as it squeaks loudly on it’s hinges. Spirit Bomb gives it a reproachful look, but steps inside regardless, its eyes carefully taking in the woodwork and peeling paint.
“It’s a little beaten up,” Tommy says, pulling the door shut behind him, making the entire structure rattle. “Millenia does that to a place- not that I’d know, anyway.”
Spirit Bomb turns in a slow circle, taking in the place around it. “You weren’t here for the creation of this place?”
“Nope- mortal!” Tommy gestures to himself wildly, making Spirit Bomb snort in amusement. “Bonafide product of Earthly genetics.”
Spirit Bomb then gestures to itself, to the odd half-white half-black pattern of its skin and the full suit it wears. “A soul. Not really sure where I was from before I died, honestly.”
“Well, you sure as fuck don’t look like a mortal.” Tommy steps into a narrow, short hallway, dimly lit with flickering, dying lanterns. “Just down here.”
Spirit Bomb ducks its head stepping over the threshold into the hallway, awkwardly hunched due to its height. Tommy’s quick to lead it down the hall, pushing open the door to a lush, overly decorated room. It’s full of ores and gems and glowing light, and seems entirely too fancy compared to the rest of the hotel, but Spirit Bomb doesn’t question it.
The second it steps inside, the ceiling adjusts, leaving room for it to stand at its full height. Some green, softly glowing orbs surround it, floating in the air like it’s the ocean, bobbing and dipping on invisible, imaginary waves. The light glow they cast the room in is ethereal, letting the gems and ores shine slightly and almost glow.
“Regeneration,” Tommy says, watching Spirit Bomb track them carefully with its gaze. “In it’s purest form. Hard to come by. You’re probably used to the watered-down shit.”
Spirit Bomb’s gaze stays trained on the regeneration as it bops and dips. “I’ve never seen regeneration like this before.”
“Compliments of White Crow,” Tommy says, the name coming out mockingly. “I’ll leave you for the process, then.”
Spirit Bomb looks back at him, eyes still wide. “You’ll be gardening when I’m done?”
Tommy grins broadly at the implications of it, all too proud of himself for befriending a soul. In all his time working in the Valley, he hasn’t managed such a feat yet, and he’d all but given up on it. “Always am. Enjoy your regeneration.”
He gives a salute and backs out of the room, shutting the door carefully as he does so, leaving Spirit Bomb alone in a room far too lush and big. Spirit Bomb exhales, then turns it’s focus to the regeneration, stretching up a hand, ready to receive it after a long journey between realms.