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“Oh,” Anne giggled awkwardly, quickly ruffling her curly hair, the leaves on which have become eternal guests from the moment she appeared in this world, “You are you my friends? You all?” – receiving in response the slow nods of everyone who was in sight, the girl boldly directed her gaze to the blonde, and the girl in the raincoat, who looked completely depressed, although she smiled softly, “Who… if not a secret, is friends with me better everyone?” - it sounded so childish, Anne looked at the girls with curiosity, patiently waiting for one of them, or both of them, to somehow show themselves.
There was silence, which was accompanied by a light wind, and the one above sharply lowered her unusual eyes to the ground, the second swallowed a lump in her throat, as on command both moved away, slowly disturbing the dust with beautiful cloaks, and behind them appeared ... a frog. A pink, small frog, with hair spread out as if from an electric shock, all teary, the frog thoughtlessly rushed into his arms, and Anne froze from a strange feeling.
“My name is Sprig,” said the best friend, not believing what happened, “Your name is Anne.”
“We blew up an underground anthill, and then my raincoat caught fire,” Marcy finishes her story, putting the dirty bandages in the trash, and then proceeding to the main work, a red, frighteningly long wound that has healed over the entire back of Sasha, who sits, chuckling hoarsely from the illogicality and absurdity of Marcy's adventures.
“Why does it light up so often, maybe you can change it?” She laughs weakly to take her mind off the burning sensation as the girl gently rubs her back. “Seriously, this is not normal.”
“It burns only under the sun,” explains Marcy, humming thoughtfully, and after a few days of living in the same house with the Plantars, Sasha quickly realized that this was not a good sign.
After the incident, they did not see the sun, the sky was covered with dark clouds that day, and the brightest day is considered when two candles are enough in the room to clearly see each other's faces.
“Sasha,” Marcy calls, sad and tired, and the girl knowingly raises her hand so that she can wrap the gauze with smelly ointment that cuts her nose, “Thank you.”
“Thank you for helping me,” Sasha inhales the humid air in a relaxed way, feeling how the girl’s neat hands make a small knot somewhere in the area of the shoulder blade, as soon as the girl hints at discomfort during the last treatment, Marcy carefully makes sure that everything is perfect. Marcy, a girl who wouldn't sit still for a couple of minutes, is now completely different, now she listens more than she speaks, carefully thinks before every word, and it hurts Sasha to look at how she forced herself to look into Anne's eyes.
“Marcy,” the girl pulls her out of dangerous thoughts, in a firm voice, and she responds with a little shy twitch in surprise, “Don't think about it.”
“Sorry,” Marcy sighs deeply, poking her forehead into her shoulder, massaging gently with her hand, kneading tense muscles, and Sasha smiles to stroke her dark hair, which has become noticeably longer, “Sorry, Sasha.”
“You too.”
Marcy's whole body hurts, the slightest movement sends disturbing impulses directly into her exhausted brain, and she already wants to lie down for several hours just to stare at the dark ceiling until her eyes want to close for exactly three seconds, giving off a burning sensation to all the skin around them. . Marcy can't sleep, but she doesn't complain, and she wouldn't dare to even hint that she's ill. How dare she be so selfish.. .again? Marcy knows that everything is fine, that Sasha does not hold a grudge against her, confident that of her own free will she would never attack her.
Marcy wouldn't dare attack someone she cares about. She wouldn't hurt others, no one deserves that, that's mean! It's cruel! The girl managed to hurt everyone badly enough that she can’t stop thinking about it, even if she is told that everything is fine.
Marcy doesn't want to be the one to help, she's sure she doesn't deserve this kindness, after all.
And with all this, she is fully aware that she is loved. And she loves them.
Sasha loves her, Anne is just as eager to listen to her chatter, Sprig, Polly, Hop-Pop, they all need her. And she needs them too.
“Sash?”
“Hm?” the silence dragged on like ink on an old parchment, Sasha listens to the tone, - “What”?”
“Do you think we will return home?”
“We will.” A firm nod is reassuring, and Marcy smiles at the corners of her chapped lips. She feels the fabric on her skin and raises her hands to be dressed in a shirt that is too big, but pleasant and warm, a special smell hints at an interesting soap from the elder Plantars, and Sasha involuntarily thinks who is washing all the dirty things that she has to change almost not every six hours to wash off bruises. Usually after this, Marcy brings her medicines from Newtopia, kindly prepared by Lady Olivia, according to the newt, the grateful inhabitants will do whatever they need for them. At least there is no hostility, as before, and no one is deprived of anything. The thought that there are no more dangers is reassuring.
The melodious clinking of a glass focuses on a swarthy face in a dim bedroom, Marcy blinks slowly before offering five pills of different shapes and colors.
“Are you allergic to anything?” again, like yesterday, and the day before yesterday, and the day before, Marcy is interested, and the girl wants to somehow dilute the situation, she shrugs her shoulders and throws the medicine into her mouth, without even drinking it, swallows it.
“We'll find out now.”
The prank is a success, Marcy turns pale for a moment and then frowns like an offended child to share a quiet laugh with her. Sasha winks proudly at her, still takes the glass and takes small sips, the desire to wet her throat makes the situation more fun, Marcy chuckles.
“They should have been drunk with a difference of five minutes, - the girl adds, to which Sasha playfully sticks her tongue out, - Are you serious?”
“You’re still so nerdy.”
Marcy looks better and Sasha is happy. She hears a creak as Marcy kneels down, carefully lifting her wounded leg, removing the soiled bandages and torn sock. The girl immediately bashfully looks away, feeling humiliated. She's... embarrassed, but she can't handle it on her own either.
“It’s all right, Sasha,” a friend rolls up the sleeves of the same dark marsh shirt. Marcy seems to read minds, thinking more and more about any word that catches her dangerously sensitive ear, "I'm glad."
Sasha watches how the girl thoroughly cleanses her skin of dirt, she, like a doctor, fiddles with such instruments that the girl sees for the first time, on her swarthy face there is not a drop of hostility or something that a normal person would experience from the sight of blood before her eyes. A peaceful smile is what reigns on Marcy, Her hair is reminiscent of a messy nest built by some young bird who clearly does not understand architecture. Sasha wants to help this bird, and she stretches her weak palm, feeling the soft hair pleasantly warming the impudent guest. The hairpin was long lost in space when she managed to stumble in zero gravity, so the funny strands add a sweet randomness to the image of the girl, which she radiates much less. Marcy now thinks before rushing forward, staring blankly at her diary. Because Anne doesn't remember all the ways that a clumsy girl can fall into the mud, or even get into some kind of trouble. Sasha ran after her less often there, at home, one day without Anne was enough for both of them to understand: there is no way without her.
Anne was the bridge between them, completely different friends who were interested in frighteningly opposite things. Sasha was popular, rude and knew what she wanted. She could do anything to get what she wanted. Pink, bright, glamorous, brute – this is Warbright. Marcy... loved silence, loved locality, games, books, study – part of it.
Sasha was, is, and will be strength, courage and courage. Marcy had long accepted the fact that even for the newts she seemed too thin and frail, what they called strength, she confidently called impulsiveness and confidence that everything would go perfectly.
Sasha thoughtlessly rushed into battle, one thought that there was a chance enough. She dared to take risks.
Marcy was a brain, she avoided all sorts of dangers, but not the half-open metal doors of the school lockers. And now, as a precaution, she wears updated armor so as not to cause trouble to others in case she relaxes and clumsiness returns. Maybe the Core took her with him?
“Tell me more about how you and Anne used to hang out in Newtopia.” Sasha breaks the silence and Marcy looks into her eyes, puzzled. "Without me." she adds, arching her eyebrows and narrowing her eyes.
How much Marcy missed Sasha and Anne there, in a big country where it was difficult for her to get along, without them everything seemed dry and boring. General Yunan had helped clear her mind by traveling along the trading sea routes, deliberately bumping into rogue toads, and while it was a hell of a lot of fun, the air tasted different. Lonely and raw. A couple of days with Anne convinced her of this quickly enough, and standing still while she needed friends, in her new family, was cruel. Marcy quietly swallows the lump in her throat and smiles again, pulling up the fabric of her pants to work more confidently.
"Do you want to hear how Ann fed the crocodile that got stuck in the sewer?"
"And you were silent about it?! Tell me!"
In the early days, the field work was the most tiring part, Marcy was restless with caustic fatigue and pain, every limb responded with a hot hum, but she carefully watched so that no one noticed. Oddly enough, in weeks of tilling the hard soil, which became pleasantly loose and fertile, even under the condition of weak sunlight, her muscles heated up, and now it has become easier to work, just a little. Now the hands did not tremble, complaining of pain, they were ... normal. Anne is constantly thoughtful in an attempt to remember at least something, in addition to the names and current status of the inhabitants of the friendly village, she chats with everyone, seeks out information, involuntarily thinking that she does not know enough, and Sprig is always there, even when the girl is sleeping. Polly makes her contributions by furiously researching libraries in hopes of finding a way to get her fragile memory back, and Marcy often hears her sluggishly ask for a glass of bagachino. Can a child have that much? Marcy isn't sure, so she lies that it's over and asks her to lie down and sleep for as long as she needs to, rather than between slow blinks.
“Never!” Polly exclaims, her eyes resolutely buried in the pages, and she surely sees blurry squiggles instead of letters. “How can you sleep when Anne needs help?”
“We all help her.” Marcy slowly picks up the book, old and frighteningly large for a growing tadpole. “You're not alone, Polly, we can handle it.”
The library is as dark as night and a couple of weak candles would only help to ruin her eyesight, Marcy knows that there is no necessary information here, she re-read every book, with and without a magnifying glass, over and over again, until she resigned herself, and postponed the search until trips to Newtopia, which is now recovering from the destruction. Maybe there are doctors who suddenly begin to understand the memory of people they see for the first time?
This is silly.
“I want Ann's laptop back!” the girl grumbles, jumping up from her chair, and trampling on the street. ‘’Well, nothing, I'll ask you more, soulless book!’
Marcy didn't follow her because that's what Polly says every time her body hits limits. She will go, sleep for an hour or two, then return again, studying manuscripts and old books with jeweler attentiveness. Some Marcy translated into understandable English a long time ago, it seems that Polly does a great job without translation.
Hop-Pop talks with Anne most often after Sprig, tells funny stories, shares her memories, and the girl listens with interest, because there is nothing to share yet, except perhaps her fear.
When Anne opened her eyes, she felt a creeping chill, the wind ruffled her exposed skin, and the girl, not knowing what had happened, just put her arms around herself, and then saw them crying over something, something white, that had been blown away by the wind. Anne didn't know what to think, but she felt in her gut that she had something to do with it, and she took a step forward, moving closer to the two girls. Everyone was so different that she was taken aback when the crying stopped, Anne spoke first, as she always did.
''Hi? Who are you?”
Sasha visits Grime, and he is the liveliest of all the living, smiling contentedly, widely demonstrating suspiciously clean rows of sharp fangs. The girl didn't consider herself a biology expert, but toads definitely shouldn't have needle-sharp teeth, should they even have teeth? She doesn’t know anything, she skipped boring lessons, forcing Anne to run away with her, so she mentally throws the question on the back burner, deciding to ask it to Marcy, and she watches how he speaks with ... subordinates? The old toad drives strangers to hell, and he flops himself into something that vaguely resembles a chair. Sasha would call it a sack, the weight of the former warrior turning the furniture into something like a pancake. Grime tries to be hospitable, despite the lack of an arm, which, as it turns out, did not intend to grow back, not that he cares. He looks pleased when he announces the alliance of the toads, strong warriors, with the newts, whose science has advanced much further than their primitive methods.
“By the way,” he recalls, rummaging through the pockets of his new suit, which Sasha seems to like very much, “I’ll borrow your phone, do you mind?”
“Of course not, take it.” Sasha happily hands him a gadget with which he got scilled a long time ago, she does not use the phone, and does not see any more use in it, it's just ... entertainment. In addition, communication in this world will take a long time to wait. “Then let's go to Newtopia, let's see what can be done with your hand.”
“Nope, I’m fine anyway,” the old man mutters, and indeed, he can handle the smartphone with one hand, better than the girl herself, “I think you need it more than me.”
“I’m fine,” an attempt to evade with one phrase ends unsuccessfully, Grime takes his eyes ... eye off the display, and Sasha understands from his expression that he does not believe, “Okay, maybe not okay. A little bit. Think scratch.”
"You almost got cut in half, let me remind you, so you're not okay. And I'm not as weak as you humans, look how cool I can!” the old man moves his injured hand, and Sasha squints to notice the semblance of fingers that have grown during this time.
“Disgusting.” - Sasha grimaces caustically, “But it looks cool. Why do I want the same?”
“Only I can do that.” the toad chuckles, pulling out the bandages again.
“And what happened next?” Anne asks when Sasha thoughtfully breaks off from the story about helping Grime, when she had just found herself in the Amphibian, and was, not that forced, more determined to put her knowledge and manipulation techniques into practice, which went as successfully as possible. Grime knew perfectly well that Sasha could use him for her own purposes, after which it was enough to leave, leaving him alone, with clumsy toads, who even did not know how to properly hold a weapon.
“Then a lot of training, I began to manage the army, help Grime, and he helped me, it was fun,” the girl shrugs, pulling a piece of metal sticking out of the ground, which, apparently, was the hand of one of the destroyed invader robots, “Sprig told you about our fight?
“Did I fight with you?” Anne wonders, and at that moment Sasha wants to bite her tongue hard, despite the consequences in the form of an infection or terrible pain, “Sprig said that you were different.”
Of course, Sprig could well have spilled the whole frightening story in all details on the poor girl's head, given his inability to sit still for more than ten seconds. Sticky frog legs reached out to everything that definitely cannot be touched, and Sasha is surprised that the boy gave in to her, giving her the opportunity to tell what happened then. Sasha is nervous, either from Anne's wary look or because Marcy appears nearby, who believes that the girl is resting in the room, as instructed by her. The situation becomes absurd, but Sasha no longer dares to lie or deceive, continuing to wait for her friend, who does not hide her anxiety, as soon as she notices that the patient is a little not where she should be.
Marcy greets Anne, waves her hand like she always does, and then looks at Sasha, tilting her head questioningly.
“Hello, Sasha,” she smiles softly, and there is not a hint of resentment on her face, “What are you talking about?”
“She said we fought,” Anne sounds impressed, looking at the tall figure of her former opponent, “Who won?”
“You.” Sasha gives out, rubbing the back of his head a little embarrassedly, and the curly-haired person's jaw almost hangs down, “What?”
“Not expected.”
“So am I.” After a nod, they both laugh, glad that the case is going without too much drama. Sasha considered herself the real queen of staged scandals, she really could make any crowd interested in her, using perfectly chosen words and thoughtful steps to gain their trust.
“I certainly succumbed, I don’t have hands, but sticks” demonstrating the thinness of her hands, Anne looks at Sasha, “Why did we fight? We are friends, aren't we?”
“You know, the situation was not at all easy,” Sasha concludes, throwing the found metal into a pile with the rest, “Compared to those whom you defeated later, I’m generally a flower.”
“Am I that strong?” She can surprise herself with Anne's surprise.
Sasha didn't lie, she'd go into detail if the girl asked, trying to be careful with her words, while Marcy continued to wonder why Anne was being deprived of her valuable memory. She died, then appeared behind them, knowing nothing about herself or those around her, all experience, all knowledge, all life, she disappeared along with what was left of the past Anne, the heroine who saved the world more than once. Maybe if you do something, the memory itself will return? But what if this is some kind of quest, like in video games, where there have always been similar cases with a catch? She destroyed the entity, the red moon, and it probably didn't end there. Marcy seems to be in an unknown space, while staring thoughtfully into nowhere, feeling as if she is falling. Such flights in thought are more frightening than anything else, because it is very difficult to get out of there yourself, and this is an easy enough way to puzzle the interlocutor who is waiting for an answer. Marcy feels warm on her shoulders, and sighs, knowing that now she will see the interested faces of her friends.
“Mar-Mar,” a melodious voice sings, “You are thinking again.”
She is pulled by the shoulders, but instead of two heads, she sees only one, with blond hair. Sasha smiles at her, patiently waiting, and only when he is sure that Marcy is on the line does she walk away.
“Where is Anne? She is gone?”
As Sasha does not like the energy that Marcy radiates, or rather the lack of energy, there is little left of the past Marcy, but one trait remains - Marcy is silent, devalues her experiences, perhaps because she believes that her problems are not worth such attention. Sasha does not know why she feels guilty that the girl does not want to open up in front of her, and shares why she still allows Sasha to decide everything herself, and why she did not scold her when she went outside, despite the request to stay in bed .
"I'm sorry, Marcy," she blurts out, puzzled because she meant to say that Anne went over to Polly's to help with the books.
“For what?” Marcy looks surprised as she adjusts the collar of her clothes.
“I left the house, you dummy.” Sasha crosses her arms, waiting for Marcy to say that it really hurt her. Let Marcy express her dissatisfaction at least once before she starts it herself. Sasha is unhappy that Marcy isn't unhappy? Yes. She is.
“Today the sun is brighter than usual, so it will be better,” Marcy says, and the girl grits her teeth, considering this a challenge, and quite difficult, “And if you feel good, why not go for a walk, right?”
‘That's right …’’ a sly girl, however, Sasha thinks, rubbing her head, “Take a walk with me, it will be useful not only for me.”
For some reason, Marcy is terribly embarrassed by what has been said.
And for some reason Sasha wanted her to watch her, as before, protecting her from stupid obstacles in the form of a wet floor or a disgruntled guard. Marcy is not running around the field looking for something mysterious and curious, as she would have been doing months earlier, she is looking at Sasha so that she does not crash into something, and this is annoying and touching. Here the sun seems brighter, and the smoke disperses little by little, letting in warm rays, and not just stuffiness, on this earth. The ground underfoot is still cold, the field was cleared of splinters and remains quite recently, and by the calluses on her hands, covered with torn gloves, Sasha concludes who could spend their time and effort on this matter. Perhaps she has already considered everything and does not see anything interesting.
“Hey, let's go to the races”, Sasha's gaze tends towards the tall thin tree, and Marcy notices this right away, “Whoever wins gets everything she wants.”
“I don’t know, Sasha, is this not too much for you?” Marcy asks worriedly, but Sasha's auditory filter deliberately perceives this as a mockery and a challenge, she smiles, because she was expecting this question. Marcy worries too much about her.
“What do you mean?” She is feignedly offended, dramatically putting her hand to her forehead, opening her eye a little to make sure that her acting is effective. Marcy is puzzled, "You take your words back, Mar-Mar!"
“Sasha, wait.”
“One,” the girl starts counting, preparing to rush at full speed, “Two…”
“I didn’t mean that, wait.” Marcy unsuccessfully tries to take matters into her own hands, only now a small thread of control slips away, as quickly as Sasha rushes to the goal, shouting the final number, “Hey!”
Painfully. It hurts like hell, it seems like a minimal load, but the body seems to be on fire in a cauldron, and Sasha ignores it, laughs happily, and jumps over small pits, hearing how Marcy hurries after her. Despite the late start, which was a necessary measure, because otherwise she would have persuaded her not to run, Marcy may well not only catch up with her, but overtake her. Marcy may not be as fun as she is, but Sasha hopes that her provocation will help distract her from something that is her. They reach the trunk at the same time, and Marcy just puts her hand on the tree as Sasha collapses onto the grass, chest heavy and lungs overheated. Marcy is breathing a little fast and the other one is suffering from shortness of breath. But Sasha feels much better. And it pisses her off.
“I'm the first,” Sasha says, not stopping trying to wrest a smile from her.
“We ran at the same time,” Marcy already caught her breath, and it’s not clear what she feels, her tone is neutral, “Draw.”
“I will not argue, then I will be the first to take the winnings.”
“What's the win?” interest finally flashes in her eyes, Sasha smiles with the edges of his lips, thinks what to demand from Marcy Wu herself, who is still a royal guard, has a great influence on the inhabitants of a large city, and in general, a big shot, with a small stature.
Sasha sits down, motioning for her to join, Marcy doesn't refuse, she's curious.
“What can you give me?”
“I don’t know…” Marcy is thoughtful and doesn’t pay attention to how she is carefully pulled down so that she can lie down, and Sasha’s long raincoat, which is used as protection from the cold winds, now changes its role to a warm pillow. Her hair is soft, a little wet, as if she had been in the rain, and Sasha runs her hand through it, peering into her swarthy face. Marcy catches her eye for a moment, stares directly into her eyes.
“Okay, you're first.”
“What?”
“Ask for what you want now.”
Marcy would like to know what she wants. She so wants Anne to bring back her memories, for Sasha to be healthy, for everyone to be well. Is Sasha able to give it to her? She is not sure, so she grumbles unknowingly, without giving a specific answer,
“And don’t try to get away,” Sasha states, grinning at the unsuccessful attempt, “You are thinking too loudly, even for me."
Loud thoughts often became the reason why Marcy painfully met her forehead with poles, sometimes people, and now with the cunning face of Sasha, who patiently waits for the girl to voice at least something. It's not like she can hurt her, but the tension still comes out in an irritated sigh when she thinks, and judging by Sasha's wide eyes, she's surprised by this. Then a smile, as if she had discovered something new.
“I don’t know,” Marcy surrenders, leaning back against the bark of a tree as the girl snorts thoughtfully.
Sasha slowly plays with her fingers, tangling them into blond strands of long hair, switches to a shirt, neat round buttons, and only then nods understandingly.
“Why?”
Indeed, why? It took Marcy a full thirty seconds to realize what a good and difficult question it was, it would reveal a lot if the girl could explain the answer. The concept of desire and need is blurred in the traumatized brain, what is needed is desire, but desire is not need. This is a whim, when everything you need is already there, and now you can afford to dream and realize desire through need.
“Marcy, hello,” snapping fingers interrupt his thoughts, and Marcy finds himself wanting to cry terribly, feeling like it’s more of a need, “Are you okay?”
Stupid question, Sasha thinks, berating herself for the pressure, of course she's not okay. Marcy looks like she is on the verge of hysterics, she can even feel her confusion when all emotions are involuntarily kept inside, this often happens. Sasha perfectly understands what she is now.
But she will be ready to vomit these emotions herself if she hears the usual answer, full of confident lies.
Marcy has threads instead of a brain, a tangle, put a knife and draw – everything is straight and even again. Sasha's anxiety oozes in the notes of her pleasant voice, and the girl becomes ashamed to lie again and again. Has life never taught her what lies lead to? Taught the most severe lesson, where there was only one practice, Marcy did not have time to prepare, and she sighs deeply, shakes her head negatively.
“Honestly, no.”
Anne will remember everything, for sure, someday! Marcy had to take Sasha with her, because the girl turned out to be too persistent and ... charming, Wu is unable to refuse her eyes, which, at the request of the owner, are suddenly capable of magic, which achieves its goal. These are not puppy eyes, not a pleading look, when all that remains is to put pressure on pity, this is ... something else. Sasha was like a formidable she-wolf, not an obedient dog in any way, and in Sasha's eyes it was read, as if in large letters, specially drawn for Marcy, that she would be next to her in Newtopia anyway. Lady Olivia has notified that the best doctors and scientists are ready for her visit, so that Marcy first discusses all the nuances, in such detail and thoughtfulness that she is sure that these newts will either adore her or hate her until she is gone or even dead.
There should be no flaws, so Marcy carefully questions Anne about her condition, writing down literally every word, even if she blurted it out just like that.
This dangerous attentiveness did not pass Sasha's eyes, as did the trembling in his fingers, which made the letters look crooked.
“Let me help you,” without accepting the refusal, Sasha trudged along behind her, not only making quick notes, but also making sure that she did not stumble along the way, which, unfortunately or fortunately, did not happen.
There are practically no entire buildings in Newtopia, but the inhabitants work together, smile affably at them, and, as it turned out, Marcy ordered the demolition of her own monument in order to direct the materials in the right direction. How does she manage to be in several places at the same time? Looking after Anne's condition, healing her wounds, repairing Frobo from time to time, keeping an eye on the huge city, managing to give time to everything, of course, Marcy certainly does not pay enough attention to herself.
The flight went smoothly, only because Sasha managed to convince her to sleep for at least these three hours, and before the escort arrives, she will definitely wake her up. So she fell asleep, poking her tiny nose somewhere between the girl’s neck and shoulder, and the raincoat became a blanket again, in any case, it’s better than bumping into Marcy, who fell asleep right at the table and a pile of books.
The feeling of a cold wind brought her to her senses, and not on Joe, she was sitting on a chair, still resting her head on the shoulder of her companion, who, with one cunning look, made it clear that she had not been woken up at all.
“Sasha…” Marcy tried to grunt, but the response was a quiet laugh that didn’t let her take offense for long, “Thank you.”
Marcy's answers always seemed unpredictable to her, but the girl's gratitude beamed with a satisfied smile.
Scientists, like on Earth, are terribly stereotyped, as if they got out of films, tall and gray-haired newts, in snow-white coats looking down on the guests, although their growth is identical. The busy Marcy doesn't seem to care much, she looks completely unperturbed when the newts allow themselves to joke about her tired appearance, only an agreed nod. Lately, she had really put too much on her weak shoulders.
“Newts are proud creatures,” Marcy explains, only Sasha frowned, “Don't pay attention.”
That's one of the reasons why Marcy wanted to go on this sort of exploration herself in the first place, she'd been here long enough to not only know all the culture and customs of the Newtopians, but also be able to contribute a little bit to it. On a second trip, she would gladly invite them together, but now they need silence and formality, because, according to Lady Olivia, these newts are extremely ... peculiar.
“Human memory, of course, is very different from ours,” one of the newts begins to reason, squinting at the notes brought by Marcy. Sasha is ready to swear that until this moment she had not seen these papers in her hands, where did they come from? Did she learn to use the game "equipment", which she often talked about at school.
It’s like she has a lot of storage compartments for things ... Or she thought of sewing pockets to her cloak.
They keep talking, so monotonous and boring that Sasha, determined to distribute information equally with Marcy, almost fell asleep from incomprehensible words and quiet voices in an empty room. They are well prepared for their arrival, Sasha involuntarily begins to pay attention to all sorts of little things in the interior of the office, from small cracks in expensive chairs to dust particles flying in the air, and draws a vital conclusion for herself: the scientific sphere is closed to her if everything goes like this. farther.
Marcy raises her voice, and it wakes her abruptly, her hand as if by itself reaching for the sword, she will eliminate any threat instantly.
“You don’t understand,” her voice is broken, but there is not a hint of sadness on her face, “As many as three villages can confirm this.”
Judging by the mood of the girl, scientists do not want to believe in the reality of what happened.
“Are you serious?“ Marcy is doing great holding her own.” We literally got here via a portal and you royal scientists don’t know about it?
Newtopia can hardly be called a kingdom now, but this proud status still flaunts on the documents, only the graph of the ruler has changed.
The newts hesitated under the pressure of the discontent of a girl with a high social status, Sasha decided to remain silent, but she remained very satisfied with the situation: Marcy would not allow her to wipe her feet on her.
“Master Marcy, with all due respect, the only thing we can offer you is to be patient, the drug is being developed to the best of our ability.”
"Then why did you try to convince me it wasn't true? This is not professional of you, and I will inform Lady Olivia of this. And please, just call me by my first name.”
“Your right, Marcy.”
“You should have seen their faces!” already at home, Sasha shares her impressions with Anne, who was busy with weeds in the field, “They seem to be cold-blooded creatures, but they even turned pale there. Yes, Marcy gave them a real scare.”
“She's needed there, right? Wasn't Marcy always like this?”
“Of course not,” Sasha is surprised by the questions, “You constantly ran after her, because she stumbled over a step.”
“Yes, Sprig told me about it, and it is written in my diary. It's funny,” - Anne shrugs, “Like, it's so ingrained in my mind that even now I can follow her.”
“What?” Marcy asks, confused.
“I don’t know, I think I can remember everything, it just takes time and your campaign. And you and Marcy are always somewhere, something like that.”
“You want to say,” Marcy herself intervenes in the matter, stopping taking notes, scientists complained about Sasha’s sloppy handwriting, which she successfully hid, “Memories are not erased?”
“Yes, probably. My arm hurt yesterday when Sprig told me how I protected the village from toads.”
Muscle memory? Marcy has no idea how this happens when Anne has a brand new body, no bruises, cuts, or flaws, so the idea of phantom pains doesn't get out of her mind until late at night. Perhaps Anne gets into character so much when she is told about her actions that she can imagine how painful it was for her then. Marcy told about the box a long time ago, but Anne did not change her face, but only smiled, because "it has already passed, and you should not look only at the past." Anne's positive thinking will someday drive Marcy crazy, although she remembers exactly how she herself was like that, before the words about moving.
“Why are you not sleeping?” a familiar shadow rises in front of Marcy, and she does not turn around at Sasha's suspiciously cheerful voice, “We agreed, Mars, forgot?”
“And we both broke the treaty, you’re awake too,” Marcy would have continued to parse the notes of tedious scientists if she hadn’t felt a sudden emptiness between her thumb and forefinger, “Please, hand over the pen.”
“Take it yourself, nerd.” Sasha is damn dexterous for a girl with a bad back, Marcy's attempts to pick up the little thing are too slow for the former lieutenant, “Take it and I'll give it back.”
“This is silly.”
“Oh, Mar-Mar, are you giving up so quickly?” the tone is mocking, and Sasha is mockingly close, she knows, impudent, that in any outcome she will win. She's taller and stronger. “You look so funny.”
Sasha likes what she sees, a gloomy girl, tired and a little angry, it's cute. She came here not to admire, but to put her to bed, preferably next to her, because she will find a topic of reflection for the rest of the night, and will crush herself further. This is not what she needs. Not at all.
Marcy gazes into Sasha's eyes for a surprisingly long time, then looks away thoughtfully. Again for mine.
“Thinking loud, honey.” The pen finds its home in a glass for writing instruments, but Sasha does not allow her to return to work, “Let's go.”
And Marcy goes, reluctantly, but allows himself to be led by the hand. The house seems incredibly large at this moment, and the corridors are long, as if there is no end to them. The door creaks, and Marcy's back feels lighter as Sasha quickly pulls off the thin armor that can keep out the mosquitoes here.
Mosquitoes the size of terrestrial birds.
“Do you need something?” Sasha tilts her head when all the armor is neatly folded on the cabinet, “Water?”
“No, thank you,” embarrassment reminds of itself with a crimson blush, which, fortunately, will not be visible in the room, “Everything is fine.”
They lie like this for several minutes, silently waiting for someone to break this aura, ask a meaningless question, or start a conversation about life. When views are different, it’s more interesting to talk, but Marcy has never argued with Sasha for as long as she can remember. And she doesn't think she wants to, would that be... ungrateful of her?
“Marcy, sleep.” For some reason, Sasha says it in a whisper, like at a sleepover.
“Why are you not sleeping?”
“I'm waiting for you to fall asleep.”
“I can’t sleep.” the girl agrees, kneads the pillow, “It doesn’t work.”
“I know what the problem is.”
“Do you?”
Sasha does not answer, but slowly hugs the girl, gently nuzzling her tousled hair.
“It should work, don't you think?”
"Probably…" Marcy, awkwardly concealing her embarrassment, lets sleep weigh on her eyelids.
Tomorrow will be a new day.