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Amelia finds her with the wisteria.
She treads this ground cautiously. There are puddles of rainwater around her feet but each puddle has a splotch of darkness, an inky dribble that clouds over the surface. The trees drip with it, black raindrops that fall onto her coat and stain it. Amelia touches the bill of her cap. She feels it on her fingers. The wisterias are crying.
Ina looks okay, despite this. She never lets on when it hurts, never lets go of an inch if she can. She looks serene as the wisteria curtains around her. Dahlia flowers house her where she lays, where her eyes remain closed and where she breathes, a gentle in and out that could almost be mistaken for sleep.
Amelia wipes at the ink on her cheek. She didn’t want to break this fragile quiet. She could mistake the ink for rain. She can mistake the silence in the air for a morning yawn, where the sun cracks between wisteria flowers and brushes Ina’s nose.
Amelia crouches beside her. Ina’s eyes open just a sliver, the deep blue of her eyes seemingly darker than ever before.
“You missed jenga night,” Amelia says. They both know there’s no such thing.
Ina smiles, a small twitch of her lips, “Uh oh.”
“I won, you missed it. Gura was a sore loser about it.” Amelia leans her chin into her palm. She crafts this story despite the memories of the night before, despite the quiet of their home. Gura shys away from affections when Ina is sick like this. She wants to be left alone in a different way, to be frustrated alone, to be helpless about a situation that cannot be helped. The quiet of that night settles into Amelia’s head. It was lonely without them in their home. The sun is rising, though, so she says, “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” Ina returns softly. Her eyes flutter shut again, a reedy exhale following in its wake. “...You waited on me?”
Amelia makes a noncommittal noise. She doesn’t want to mention laying awake in bed thumbing her watch. Ina will grow a frown and forget about herself out of concern. Amelia doesn’t think losing a night of sleep is anything compared to a god rattling your insides.
“You didn’t have to,” Ina says quietly.
Amelia smiles mirthlessly down at the priestess, “It’s not fun playing jenga with two players, c’mon Ina. Where’s our player three?”
Ina murmurs, “I’m sorry.”
“For what? You didn’t do anything.”
Ina opens her eyes. There’s a foggy quality to them. Amelia wasn’t the only one who lost sleep last night. She reaches down with ink-stained fingers to brush her bangs out of her face. Ina’s expression softens. She reaches up to capture Amelia’s wrist, to bring her palm against her cheek to properly lean against it. Amelia’s heart swells.
“You’re too good to me.” Ina whispers.
“Huh, me?” Amelia snorts. “I would have brought you takeout if I knew it was compliment hour.”
Ina laughs meekly, “Takeout, huh?”
“Yeah, and they’d mess up my order, so I’d be suuuper embarrassed.” Ina is pressing a kiss to her palm. Amelia’s chest flutters. “I’d, uh, I’d say sorry and offer to eat it instead.”
“And then what?” Ina asks amusedly.
“And we’d sit here.” Amelia follows her own words. She drops down to the Dahlia flowers, brushing aside Wisteria that falls into her face. Ina watches her with half-lidded eyes as she lays down beside her. “And we could talk about how much we love each other because you like me, and I like you, and-”
Ina's eyes curve upwards from her smile, “My my, a confession?”
“Oh no.” Amelia drawls. “My life is over.”
Ina reaches for her. Amelia watches her with Dahlia’s brushing her cheek, with flower petals touching her lips, with Ina’s fingers gently thumbing the ink away on her chin. Amelia smiles crookedly, “Missed a spot?”
Ina smiles but it’s distant, faraway, it’s fading. Amelia says tremulously, “Ina.”
Her priestess sighs. She’s propping herself up on her elbow. Midnight hair falls over her shoulder. She’s leaning over Amelia, a dark moon eclipsing the sun and halo’d by wisteria purple. Her legs move to straddle Amelia’s hips. Her hands are reaching underneath Amelia’s jaw, brushing under her ears and cradling her head with solemn reverence.
Amelia smiles, “Hello.”
Ina exhales, “Hi.”
“Come here often?”
“Too often.” Ina murmurs.
Amelia’s smile dims. She whispers, “I think that’s okay. I know where to find you if you come here. If you go somewhere else I’ll be even more worried.”
“Guilt-tripping me?” Ina offers a wry smile. “I’m not going anywhere.”
There’s another layer to that. Amelia picks up on it and isn’t able to hide her relief. Ina is laying her head against Amelia’s chest. The sharp point of her ear tickles Amelia’s collar. She reaches down to pet the top of the priestess’s head. Her flaps twitch. Amelia fawns over the cuteness of it, her fingers scratching between the flaps and brushing around them. Kitty ears. She strains to press a kiss on Ina’s head.
Ina exhales, “...I had dreams.”
“So you did sleep last night?”
“Mm.” Ina is reaching up to grab one of Amelia’s mischievous hands. She’s bringing it down to her lips. “It was about the cafe Gura took me to a few months ago.”
Amelia doesn’t remember that. She doesn’t say as much, prompting her with a, “Uh-huh?”
“She ordered me a crepe.” Ina whispers. “I dreamt it was bleeding. I didn’t eat it, despite everyone else’s food being normal. Gura had ordered a bread bowl, it was normal. My crepe wouldn’t stop bleeding. It was pooling on the table.”
Amelia mutters, “Woah, that’s dark.”
Ina huffs, “Maybe, maybe it was just a ton of cranberry sauce-”
“No, no, it’s interesting if you call it blood now. Keep talking.”
Ina laughs, the sound vibrating through Amelia’s chest. Her priestess says, “Nothing much happened other than that. I didn’t want to eat it. Gura asked me why I wasn’t eating it if I didn’t like it.”
“What’d you say?”
Ina’s voice is very small as she says, “I told her I want to wake up.”
“Ohh,” Amelia says. “Did you?”
“I couldn’t tell,” Ina confesses. “I woke up here, but the crepe was here too. I kept waking up and falling asleep in the same place with different things.” She hesitates and adds meekly, “I found your watch. It was broken.”
Her watch was definitely not broken. It’s in her pocket, ticking away to the time of her heartbeat. She soothes Ina’s hair and whispers, “It’s not broken.”
“I know that. It’s you, it’s connected to you.” Ina sighs shakily. “It’d only break if you broke too.”
Amelia winces at that, “Euugh, Ina, that’s spooky.”
“It’s true though.”
“I know, but that won’t happen.”
Ina sighs. She’s settling herself comfortably on top of Amelia. Amelia lets her, roping her arm around her shoulders and drawing her in. The flowers itch at her neck. Wisteria burns between the rays of the morning sun. Amelia watches it rise through the curtain of purple surrounding them.
Eventually, Ina’s breathes even out. Eventually, her priestess falls asleep like that, her ear pressed to Amelia’s heart and with Amelia’s hands running through her hair. Amelia is content to lay there for however long she’s needed, no matter how badly her muscles cramp up.
It was worth it.
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Gura is a different story.
She doesn’t like not being able to help a situation she can’t fix. It’s typical of her to avoid it altogether. Unlike Ina, she doesn’t stay put in one spot. That doesn’t stop Amelia from trying. Even if she doesn’t end up finding a trace of Gura, she at least knows her shark will make her way home eventually. She likes to be left alone. Amelia is too stubborn to let it go.
A lighthouse burns brightly in this storm. Amelia wipes her face with her sleeve. It doesn’t do much against the onslaught of rainwater. Lightning lights up the sky, illuminating dark clouds and a roaring tide below. The cliffs are jagged and sharp. A fall would kill her, she notes dryly. She keeps her distance. An embarrassing fall would be held over her head for years if she slipped.
The door to the lighthouse is crooked on its hinges. It’s not exactly abandoned, Amelia muses, though how abandoned a building can be when its only visitor is a shark that comes by once every blue moon. She pushes against the door and it creaks open seamlessly.
The inside is waterlogged. The stench of rotted wood hangs in the air. Along the walls and on the floors is a heavy presence of moss and weeds. Amelia takes it all in curiously. There’s water dripping from the ceiling. Holes in the walls howl with storm winds. Rain that splatters inside tells of sunrays that would have shined down on the ferns growing below, down where lavender blooms.
Amelia takes each creaky stair slowly. She doesn’t want it to give out on her. The place held a fragility to it that felt like more than just brittle sticks held together by the last remnants of its strength. She doesn’t want to upset that strength. This was a special place, a quiet place removed so far from thought and imagination. It was a place Gura goes to, so it meant something.
She reaches the top of the stairs and pauses. The lantern glow blinds her and leaves spots in her vision. She can see Gura, her shark, sitting at the railing of the stairs. Her legs are looped between the bars and hanging over the edge. She’s leaning her forehead against a bar, her gaze out the window and far past the storm raging outside.
Amelia doesn’t move. She waits at the threshold.
Gura mutters, “Watson.”
“Oh hi.” Amelia hums. “You missed jenga night.”
Gura tilts her head. Tired blue eyes peek between her bangs. She doesn’t look amused. “What time is it?”
“Time for you to get a watch,” Amelia says. “It’s noon.”
Gura blinks slowly, “Already?”
“You’ve been here all night?” Amelia asks.
Gura turns her head away. Amelia knows she’s not gonna get an answer to that. She doesn’t need one. All three of them were part of the sleep-deprived club, a premium membership even. She approaches Gura’s side and folds her arms over the rail. The storm outside flashes. It silhouettes raging clouds. The sea is roiling underneath it.
“It always does this when Ina disappears,” Gura mutters.
Amelia tilts her head. A rumble of thunder nearly drowns out her words, “Well, to be fair, you always do this too.”
She feels Gura’s tail smack the back of her calf for that. Amelia huffs. She had half a mind to reach down and tussle Gura’s hair, but touching predators when they’re in a mood wasn't ever a good idea. Gura was no exception.
“What the hell is that anyway?” Gura grumbles. “Jenga night.”
“I brought Ina home,” Amelia says instead.
Gura goes quiet. Amelia taps her fingers along the rail as she says, “She’s okay. She’s resting right now, all tucked into bed. I ordered her takeout, she’ll be up and attem in no time.”
Gura exhales, long and angry, “Sure.”
They wait quietly. Amelia shifts on her feet. The lighthouse creaks underneath her. It’s their only audience against a backdrop of rain and lightning. Amelia thinks it's a perfect reflection of the storm brewing in both of their heads.
“Can we do something?” Gura murmurs. She’s gripping the railing. “Watson? What’s that watch shown you?”
Amelia feels the weight of it burning in her pocket, “Why you wanna know?”
“Don’t play dumb.” Gura sounds more tired than angry. “The Ancient Ones. That, big ol’ dumb book.”
“Oh yeah.” Amelia scratches the side of her nose. She hides her anxiety behind that as she says, “No idea.”
Gura snorts, “Okay.”
“Sorry.”
“No, sure, I get it.” Gura bows her head against the bars in front of her. Snowy white hair is hiding her expression from Amelia, but not the bite between her words. “Time traveler secret. You’ll never tell me a thing.”
“That’s not true,” Amelia says weakly.
“Oh yeah?” Gura’s tail lashes. “What happens to us, in the future?”
Amelia whispers, “I don’t know.”
“How can you-” Gura looks up at her sharply. She pauses. Amelia has no idea what sort of face she’s wearing to stop Gura cold in her tracks. Her shark is looking at her warily.
Amelia whispers, “I really don’t know.”
“You haven’t…” Gura’s expression twists. “You haven’t? Not once?”
Amelia shakes her head. Gura is pulling herself up with help from the guard rail. Amelia steps back to give her room, but Gura is chasing after her. The shark is pinning her against the rail, her arms caging Amelia on either side. Amelia is cornered by blue eyes.
Gura bears down on her until their noses are nearly touching. She whispers, “Why?”
Amelia swallows dryly, “Uh, well, hello, first of all.”
Gura deadpans.
Amelia says, “And uh…I got too scared to. I didn’t see a point.”
“See a point?” Gura echoes. The angry hitch to her shoulders is falling off her. She’s sagging, worry furrowing at her brow. “...You didn’t care?”
Amelia sharply waves her hand, “No, hey, no. I just, listen okay, I’m a time traveler but I don’t want spoilers, not for this.”
“But this is about the Ancient Ones.”
“It’s more than that,” Amelia whispers. “It’s Ina too.”
Gura meshes her mouth into a thin line. She doesn’t look happy, though Amelia expected that. It’s not surprising to her. When Gura leans forward to rest her head against Amelia’s shoulder, Amelia welcomes her. She pets through snowy hair and kisses the top of her head.
“I’m sorry.” Amelia offers. It makes her feel better about it.
“Don’t be. I should be sorry.” Gura’s voice is wobbly. “You shouldn’t have to worry about both of us.”
Amelia laughs at that, “What? Worry about you? Nah, I was fine staying at home and watching TV.”
“You didn’t.”
“And then I realized it was jenga night and you two weren’t around for it.”
Gura groans as she steps back. Her eyes have a misty quality to them, but she’s smiling, a real genuine smile. Amelia’s chest flutters at the sight of it.
“Alright, enough with that, okay, I can take a hint.” Gura wipes her eyes with her sleeve. “Take me home, Watson. I wanna go home.”
It’s the best thing Amelia could ask for. It’s music to her ears. She’s grasping Gura’s hand with a happy sigh. Good. She thinks. Back where you belong.
“Okay,” Amelia whispers. “...and for what it’s worth, Gura, I don’t think it’s Ina who causes those storms.”
Gura looks away.
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Home is where her heart is. It’s also where she finds out that Bubba had been tracking mud into the house. Amelia doesn’t feel much better. She’s dripping rain and ink everywhere. Gura is ringing out the ends of her coat but she’s doing it over the carpet. Amelia shoves her shoulder. Gura glares at her. She still wasn’t in the best mood.
“What?” Her shark grumbles. Her voice is quiet, mindful of the third party somewhere in their home. It makes Amelia smile.
“Stop making a mess, c’mon. Let’s get cleaned up.”
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Amelia towels her hair dry. A hot shower felt nice. She avoids stepping on one of her cats as she leaves the bathroom. Her bare feet pad down the hallway as she makes it back to the bedroom. She treads softly. The door is cracked ajar. She sneaks her way in.
The lights are off, which isn’t a surprise. The darkness is a comfort for Ina. She’s curled up in bed the only sign of her being her midnight hair splayed over the pillows. Gura had already claimed her spot, cuddling into Ina’s arms and smothering her with attention.
Amelia smiles wryly. They’re still awake, from what she can tell. Gura’s tail is moving under the covers.
“You smell like seaweed.” Ina whispers.
“Sushi bar,” Gura says.
“It was jenga night at the sushi bar,” Amelia says. She’s toweling at her hair more now because she’d rather be shot dead than told she smells like a fish. She hears both her girls laugh.
“Again with-” Ina starts.
“You won’t stop with the-” Gura starts.
They both pause. There’s a realization in the air that has Amelia grinning at them. Gura is raising her head to glare accusingly at her, but she’s smiling.
“You should see the shit-eating grin she has right now, Ina.” Gura says. “She played us like a fiddle.”
“Oh, well.” Ina’s voice is muffled under the blankets. Amelia can hear the smile in her voice despite this. “Guess who’s banned from cuddles.”
Amelia throws her towel at them. Gura catches it before it hits them, a protective note to it that has Amelia beaming at her. She can see the flaps on Ina’s head twitching above the covers. She was laughing, Amelia knew it.
“Watson, quit playing jenga by yourself and get over here.” Gura threateningly winds up the towel. Amelia goes no, no nonoono. It doesn’t stop Gura from slingshotting it at her. Amelia jumps like a startled rabbit away from it. Gura is snickering.
Ina mumbles, “Girls. Bed. Please.”
“Yes, Ina,” Amelia says. She’s crawling into bed on the opposite side of any predators. She's halfway under the covers when she feels something touch her waist. She jumps in surprise as a tentacle winds its way around her and drags her across the bed. She laughs helplessly, willfully tucking herself against Ina’s back and looping her arms around the priestess’s hips. She can see Ina smiling and can definitely see Gura’s smile. She kisses the pointed tip of Ina’s ear.
“Now that I’ve gathered you two here for jenga night-” She says.
“Oh my god,” Gura says. She’s burying herself into Ina’s shirt. “Shut up.”
“Is that a metaphor for something?” Ina asks slyly.
Amelia laughs.
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