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Eris don’t panic.
The letters scraped into the metal are big enough for her to fit her fist into—the edges jagged and sharp. She sits on her hands to keep them close.
Eris don’t panic.
Eris doesn’t panic. It takes her a second to realize that she is, in fact, still alive, and if she’s about to die then there’s nothing she can do about it now. She’s had enough opportunities to kick the bucket by now and yet, somehow, she’s still here. Even if right now “here” means clutched in a mecha’s grip hundreds of feet above the dry badlands dust.
Eris don’t panic.
She curls into a ball instead, her knees pressed to her chest, and wishes she has enough energy to panic. She closes her eyes and falls asleep.
***
When she wakes up and still sees the world cloaked in black, Eris’s first thought immediately circles back to the idea that she’s dead. It’s really something she has to work on.
The mecha isn’t moving anymore, if the sudden quiet is anything to go by. But by the way the metal she’s leaning against is burning cold and the temperature seems to have dropped at least 20 degrees, she assumes they’ve traveled far enough north to reach Winterward.
She stands up and immediately almost trips over her own feet, numb from the cold. Her fist finds the other side of the Berserker's palm and she catches herself before she face plants into the icy metal.
“Oh fucking hells,” Eris growls, her fists beating repeatedly into the metal as the echo absorbs into the frigid air. “Let me out, godsdammit!”
The condensation from her words doesn't even have time to disappear before Eris almost gets a concussion from how hard she’s thrown across her fist-enclosure. She feels the arm of the mecha starts to lower—the metal fingers around her screeching as they loosen slightly. She laughs at the timing. “Shit, I wasn’t expecting that to actually work.”
Jenny’s face is the first thing she sees when the palm opens fully, her eyes bright and her mouth pulled back in a grin not unsimilar to the one she wears when one of her new inventions finally works. Jenny yanks her into a hug, and Eris doesn't even have the time to register her shock before she’s released.
“Nice to have you back, little bastard,” Jenny nods to her and Eris shoots her a shit-eating grin.
“Nice to see you too, Unnie,” She barely finishes her sentence before an ear-piercing shriek echoes off the walls of the cavern.
“Eris!” She doesn’t have to see the mop of bleached blond hair barreling towards her to know it’s Nova, followed closely by the rest of them: Arsen and Theo and June all wearing matching grins as they sprint towards Eris.
The cold of the frozen air doesn’t even have time to sink into her bones before she’s surrounded by her kids—well, more like toppled over by her kids. They tackle her with a running head start and almost send her tumbling off the metal catwalk they’re all perched on from her dismount off the Berserker.
“Whoa guys, it won’t be any help if you all push me to my death now.” She tries to keep her voice solid, but it wavers—of course it does—and she finds she can’t even bring herself to care. There are so many arms around her and she’s hugging them all back and they’re all safe, they're alive and her kids are ok— they’re ok. And she’s ok too.
***
Eris can’t sleep. Not a shocker there to be honest, with the whole being captured-then-almost-killed-by-her-girlfriend thing. And Eris is fine , she really is, despite the fact she can’t sleep; she is a-ok.
She blinks up at the ceiling, the darkness palpable as she squints her eyes and searches for an imperfection in the black. Finding none, she turns on her side, her fingers tracing the side hem of her sleep pants that have scrunched up her calf. She waits for sleep, but she gives into her restlessness after a minute. After all, Eris Shindanai is anything but patient.
She swings her legs out of bed, the Winterward cold biting at her ankles as she shuffles past her kids and out the door. She doesn't know where she’s going, but the next time her eyes focus enough to see her surroundings she’s on the squeaky metal catwalk pressed into the side of the cavern. The mechas loom beneath her, their mouths gaping open to the ceiling, greedily trying to devour the world.
“Wirefuckers,” Eris mutters, even if it’s just to see her breath appear in the air before her. She continues down the metal path, sticking close to the rock on her right as she approaches the main landing.
Eris still hasn’t gotten used to the layout of their new underground layer, so she’s slightly surprised when her feet lead her into Shail’s office. She’s technically not supposed to be in here, but Eris has never been one for technicalities. Before she can fully comprehend what she wants to do, she’s already grabbed an empty notebook from a storage box and a stray pen off the counter.
She returns to her perch on the catwalk and sits down, her legs dangling over the yawning mouths of silent Gods as she adjusts the notebook onto her lap.
Eris has never written a letter before—well, not a proper one anyway. Not one with ink on paper instead of scrawled messily on skin as a note or reminder. She’s never had a reason to. Anyone she’s ever wanted to talk to has either been down the hall from her or within yelling distance. Or both. The Hollows had always been a place built for efficiency over aesthetics, after all.
Eris opens to the first page of the notebook and, before she can stop to overthink it, writes Sona’s name in the top right corner. The pen weighs heavy in her hand, her grip so tight her fingertips fade to static. She shifts her hand down and presses the tip to the paper, watching as a blot of ink spills out and bleeds through the page. It’s not so much that she doesn't know what she wants to write, but more that she’s afraid of how much she’s willing to give. Stop overthinking this . She commands herself. Her pen moves, and words bloom across the page.
When she’s done, she doesn't bother to sign it. Sona would know who wrote it— whether she cares is another question.
She heads back to bed shortly after—the letter clutched in her hand, then smoothed out and placed carefully under her pillow. She spends the rest of the night staring up at the ceiling, wondering if Sona would ever get the chance to read her words.
***
—- 2 years later—
It’s been less than a month since Sona and Eris have moved in together, and the house is already absolutely demolished. It’s astounding to Sona, it really is, how quickly a space can go from relatively pristine to a black hole of junk in a matter of weeks.
To be fair, they’ve both been busy. Between working with Jenny to rebuild the Hollows and helping with clean up efforts in Godolia, they haven’t had much time for themselves.
But they finally have a free weekend, and she’s convinced Eris to clear out the place. Somehow, if possible, the house has gotten even more messy now that the piles of junk hidden in the closet have come to light. It’s been two days since they started, and both days Nova and Arsen have just conveniently not been available to help. Sona knows Eris could easily drag them over from their place next door, but she has the feeling that Eris wants to give the kids a break.
Sona steps carefully over a pile of clothes that covers what used to be the bedroom floor and hopscotches her way to the hallway.
“Love, I’m cleaning out the closet,” Sona turns her attention down to the floor where Eris is sitting as she sorts through piles of Jenny’s inventions. She had dropped them off as a “housewarming gift”, but Eris takes every opportunity to tell Sona that it's just the stuff that Jenny doesn’t have room for anymore. Sona nods and pretends not to notice that Eris keeps it all anyways.
“Eris,” she repeats, and when she doesn’t respond, Sona nudges her gently with her foot.
Her head shoots up to where Sona stands, but she softens when she sees who it is. “Sorry, sorry. What did you say?”
“I’m cleaning out the closet.”
“Oh, yeah ok!” Eris holds up some old metal contraption covered in buttons that Sona cannot identify for the life of her. “Do you have any idea what this is?”
“Is that supposed to be a torture device?” She says it as a joke, but Eris turns her attention back to said possible torture device with raised eyebrows and hums her approval.
“Knowing Jenny? It just might be,” she moves it into one of the many piles surrounding her and Sona watches as it disappears into the clutter. “Just throw my clothes into a pile, I’ll sort through it all later.”
“Ok,” Sona presses a quick kiss to the top of Eris’ head and turns back into the bedroom, picking her way over to the closet. She slides open the door and prepares for the worst, but for the most part it’s not too bad. Yes, there are clothes all over the place, but that can be dealt with fairly easily; the boxes hidden in the corner are missing lids and Sona spots one poking up from behind one of Eris’s old hoodies.
It takes her the longer part of half an hour to clear out all the clothes, separating hers from Eris’. Considering they’ve been on the run for months, Sona has no idea where they've all come from.
Once she’s done, she shifts the lidless boxes into the center of the closet and peers inside them. The closest one is filled to the brim with cowboy hats—Sona has a sneaking suspicion this one belongs to Nova— the next one has even more clothing, and the one after that is filled with loose papers. She pulls the last box closer and shuffles through the contents.
Most of them look like they were crumpled accidentally then smoothed out, apart from the one that’s sitting on top of the rest— creased neatly and placed on top almost like a shield. And there, printed in handwriting significantly neater than the rest of it, is her name. Sona . She picks it up and unfolds it, the day it was written smudged in the top corner: one day after the academy opening.
The words are almost unreadable, scribbled hastily with pen in a handwriting that is so unmistakably Eris’s.
They’re letters. To her.
She carefully removes the rest of the papers from the box— they’re organized in date order—and leans against the closet wall, papers stacked neatly on the floor beside her. She starts with the page at the bottom.
***
Two months after Heavensday
“I saw you today. I saw in your eyes you hate me. I saw it in the way you stood. I saw it in the way you said “I don’t know you.” I saw it in the way you wanted to kill me so, so bad. I saw it in everything you did: how you couldn’t see me. But, despite everything, despite the fact that you were supposed to kill me, you let me go.
You can’t do things like this without giving me hope, and I can’t hope right now because it will get me killed.
I wonder what they did to you because you let me go. Actually— no, I think I know. I’m sorry.”
—
One day before Academy Opening
“Gods, Sona. We’ve done terrible terrible things for each other. And I’ve done terrible things to you, to try and save you. And I’m prepared to do so much worse if it means I get you back.
I am a terrible person. You might hate me for it; for what I’ve done. But as long as it's you , really you that hates me, I’d do it a million times again. It’s selfish. It’s so selfish and terrible but I’m selfish and terrible and I am willing to do awful things in this cruel, fucked up world for you.
I could say I had no choice. We had to get those invitations somehow and this was the only option; there was nothing else I could do. But of course I had a choice. Gods, Sona, of course I had a choice. I could have just walked away. Just told Jenny we’d find another opening—one that didn’t involve this. That would be the right thing to do.
But I am a terrible person. And if the wrong option brings me one step closer to you, then I will always choose it. No matter what.”
—
Before the Academy Opening
“I’m bringing the letters today in case I don’t have a chance to write any more. If that’s the case and you’re reading these because I’m dead, then I suppose you don’t have a reason to believe any of this is real. In that case, you’re probably kneeling over my body right now smiling as you come up with the best way to burn these.
I’m writing this to you— whatever version of you is reading this— whether you know me or not. You don’t have to believe me, but I need to tell you anyway. I’ll never forgive myself if I didn’t say it to you one last time.
I love you, Sona Steelcrest. I love you like gods love suffering and like people love destruction. I love you like raindrops love flower petals and like life loves stardust. I love you like the planets love the sun because you’re my sun, Sona. I’d follow you everywhere. I’ll spin around you for eternity if it means I can be near you. I know you can’t love me right now. You can’t love me if you can’t even know me. I know you can only see me as something to destroy. But I also know I was something to you once.
So is this goodbye? I don’t want the last time I see you to be through a letter. I’ll find you my love— I’ll always find you. This might still be goodbye because I don’t think I’ll be able to leave if I see you again. If these are the last words you know me from, know I love you. Know you loved me. Know that we were good. We were so good, Sona.
I love you, Sona. Every version of you. Whether you know me or not, I’ll always be in love with you. I just wish I got a chance to love you the way you deserve.”
—
After the Academy Opening
“You tried to kill me today. You let me go, though. Again. I think. We’ve been over this, love, you can’t give me hope like this. But I’m still alive so I guess it turned out alright.
Also, I was wrong: I was able to leave you there. I can’t feel too bad about it, seeing as you were about to kill me, but I’ll admit I was incorrect. I still ran.
You’re also disgustingly good at acting, which I should have expected but I still grossly underestimated how much it would hurt.
Jenny still isn’t back. Now I have an idea about how I made her feel.
She’s gone. She’s not dead, no, Jenny’s far too fucking stubborn for that. But she’s gone. She’s gone and you’re gone and you’re both gone and I—Gods, Sona, what do I do now? There’s only so much of this I can take and I… I don’t know where to go from here.
No, that’s a lie. I do know. I’ll do what I always have to do in this godsforsaken world: get my ass up and keep going. I’m going to find you. I’m going to find Jenny. I’m going to find anyone who ever tried to take you guys away and I’m going to fucking slaughter them. I don’t care, I don't care, I don't care anymore. And I won’t fucking stop until they’re all dead.”
—
One day after the Academy Opening
You’re back, Sona. You’re back.
I have you back and that’s all that fucking matters because the world is shit and everything has gone to hells but at least you’re here and I can hold you and kiss you and its you oh gods its you, Sona; and when this is all over I promise you we’re going to go into the fucking middle of nowhere and get that house with a porch and a meadow right outside and the kids right next door and we’ll go on picnics and sleep in and never have to worry about a godsdamn thing ever again. I swear it, Sona.
I’m going to stop writing these letters now. You’re here. Everything I need to tell you I can just say it to your beautiful, infuriatingly gorgeous face. I love you. I can’t wait to say it to you forever. I love you. I love you, Sona. I love you.”
***
Sona swallows despite the fact her mouth is already dry and lets the last letter drift back into the box.
“Hey, how’s the closet comi…” Eris appears behind Sona, trailing off when she sees what Sona’s looking at. “Oh… huh. I was looking for those.”
“Well, uh, I found them.”
“Did you read them?” Eris’ voice is steady, but Sona’s able to recognize the haze of uncertainty surrounding her words.
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
“Is that… ok?”
“Oh yeah, of course. I mean they are addressed to you so…” Eris hesitates for a second. “I was going to show them to you anyway. If, ya know, I could find them,” she laughs, but it’s more of an exhale. Sona turns to look up at Eris from her seat on the floor, her eyes glinting dark and unblinking but her fingers toying with the hem of her sweatpants like she does when she’s anxious.
Sona stands up and sees Eris’s eyes follow her movement, expression unchanging but her hands fall still. And when Sona wraps her arms around Eris, it doesn’t even take a second before Eris is hugging her back.
They stay in silence for a while, unmoving apart from where Sona can feel Eris’s racing heart slow down. Sona moves her hand up to comb her fingers through Eris’s hair, and Eris tucks her head between Sona’s shoulder and her neck.
“Stay here,” Eris whispers into Sona’s curls, and Sona pulls her in tighter.
“I’m here, love. Always.”