Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Taco — February 19th, 2025

The night was tumultuous, with heavy rain hitting the ground with enough force to splinter the sidewalks and wash away any debris, and winds strong enough to violently shake the trees. In the midst of this rainstorm, a house stood still. Its lights were on and it was freshly painted. 

And on the front porch of this silent house was a woman—of slightly below-average height—staring intensely at the front door, as if knocking was a matter of life and death. Eventually, she makes up her mind, knocks on the door and anxiously waits, as footsteps approach her from the inside of the house.

The door opens, revealing a pale man with white hair. He gripped the door handle with an insurmountable amount of force that you wouldn’t expect from his frail appearance.

“You…” His light blue eyes narrowed, at the sight of the short woman.

“Oh. What a pity. I was expecting to see your boyfriend, not you Paper.” The woman speaks, her British accent strengthening her mocking tone.

“You’re lucky I’m the one who answered the door.” He crosses his arms. “OJ isn’t really known for being rational all of the time.” 

“Honestly, I’d argue that he just isn’t known for being rational at all.” She smirks at Paper, who simply stares back at her with a tired expression. It was the middle of the night after all.

“Just say what you’re here for Taco. The less I have to see you the better.”

“Uhm…” Taco stands there staring at Paper, who’s getting more annoyed by the second.

“So?”

“Can you get Orange-Juice?”

Paper laughs. “As if I’d wake him up just to talk to you , of all people, especially after what you did. Just tell me what you want to tell him and I’ll make sure to forget about it by tomorrow.”

Taco scoffs, she didn’t remember Paper being this sassy. Maybe it was… Nope, this is definitely Paper. OJ was probably just rubbing off on him.

“My business isn’t with you Paper.”

“Alright then. Goodnight.” The pale man slams the door on Taco’s face, with such sudden force that it startles even the British-sounding woman herself.

Taco stares at the closed door in absolute awe. “Since when did he get like this?” She whispers to herself. 

Paper was always known for being a complete pushover—especially when OJ was involved—so that complete 180 in his demeanor was very jarring to Taco. After all, it had only been a year since she saw him last.

Whatever the case, she couldn’t just stand at his front porch all night. She had to find somewhere else to stay. And so she did, walking the streets of the city—in the middle of the pouring rain—in an incessant search for shelter.

She didn’t quite find what she was looking for, but she did find a fast-food place that was still open, and, since she was starving, she decided to go in.

The inside was what you’d expect from an average fast-food joint, that is to say it was nothing special. There weren’t many people to notice Taco’s depressingly wet look, and those that were there were too entertained by their phones and meals to notice anything else.

Upon entering, she went straight to the cashier to make her order.

“Welcome to Frie-smart. What will you be ordering today?” The man, who sounded like he was just about to jump over the counter and leave the store for good—as anyone working at a fast-food place at 9 in the evening would be—cuts straight to the point, completely ignoring the fact that the woman he was talking to was drenched in rain water.

“I’ll have a ‘Plain and Simple Combo’, if you please.” Even though Taco wasn’t the biggest fan of hamburgers, she did accompany a friend of hers to this place before, so she didn’t really have much trouble placing her order.

“That’ll be a cheeseburger, some medium fries and a small Dr. FizzTM for $15.99.” 

Taco scrounges her pockets looking for cash. Unsuccessful, she begrudgingly takes out her credit card and—after it declined twice—managed to finally pay for the combo.

Afterwards, she walks over to a table and sits down, waiting for her order. After a couple of minutes of waiting, her order is called and she stands up to go get it, at the same time two other women walk into the establishment.

“And you’re sure the restaurant won’t go to shit without you?” Said a tall woman, her dark gray skin blending in with her black clothes.

“Stop being so extra, Mic! The others aren’t that incompetent.” The other woman was dressed as if she was going out of her way to leave as little of her body exposed as possible, while walking in such a way that she didn’t so much as graze any tables or chairs.

“Soap, you do remember the amount of times we’ve had to reprint the menus after Candle started working there, right?.”

“That still doesn’t make her incompetent Mic.”

“Whatever. Go get a table. I’ll grab something to eat.”

The two women separate, with the tall one going to the cashier and the other going for a table. At this moment, the tall person noticed a certain smaller woman—still soaking wet, mind you—grabbing her food tray.

“Uhmm… Are you good?” Her voice took Taco by surprise, causing her to almost spill her Dr.FizzTM. “You look like… uhhh… how do I say this without sounding like an asshole?”

Taco stared at the woman like a deer in headlights, she completely forgot that she looked like a hobo off of the street.

“Whatever. Just… are you alright?” The woman named Mic asked again.

“Yes. I am alrigh–.” Taco tries to put on her usual cool demeanor, but is interrupted by a powerful sneeze and a series of dry coughs that almost caused her to drop her whole tray on the ground, if it wasn’t for Mic helping her hold it. 

In hindsight, walking in the middle of the cold rainy night without an umbrella was definitely not her brightest idea. She’s totally catching the world’s worst cold.

“Where were you sitting? I’ll help you there. You’re clearly…” Mic looks at the trembling short woman, her skin pale and her expression sickly, the green and red streaks on her hair losing color. “Not doing too good.”

Taco leads Mic to a table near the entrance, and the two sit down. Mic looked extremely worried for this stranger, as she usually does. She was always the high empathy type, crying for others and sharing their burdens, it was why she and Soap became such great friends.

She just couldn’t help but wonder just how this woman had gotten to such a state. And so she asked. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but how did you end up like this?”

Taco freezes, not knowing how to answer.

“Actually– scratch that.” Mic backpedals, laughing awkwardly. “Let’s start simple. My name’s Microphone! What’s yours?”

“Taco.” She responds, in a slightly coarse voice.

“Where do you live? I can help take you there.” Microphone gestures to her umbrella.

That question seemed to get to Taco. That’s why she went to Paper’s house, that’s what she was looking for while walking the streets. A place to live. She didn’t have that… at least… not since…

“I don’t really have anywhere to go…” She says, sounding much sadder than she had hoped it to be.

The empathetic woman looked thinkative, and heartbroken, weighing her options of how to respond. As well as the possible consequences of said responses. 

“You could… stay in my place if you want.” 

“…What? Just like that? Do you have a habit of fostering homeless people in your house, Microphone?” Taco sounds completely dumbfounded at just how nonchalantly this woman just offered her—a complete stranger—a stay at her house.

“Not really. But with the way you’re looking… I don’t think you’ll be surviving much longer out in the rain.”

“You do make a– *sneeze* –great point”

“There you are, Mic! What’s taking so–” Soap approaches Microphone. And the moment her eyes hit Taco she darted to her friend’s side, making sure to not come even close to grazing the putrid, vile, disease ridden woman. “Who even is this?!” 

“Calm down Soap. I know how you are with illnesses and whatnot, but she doesn’t mean any harm.” 

“Whatever you say. I will not touch her!” Soap hides behind her taller friend, in an effort to shield herself from Taco. “I will not be catching any diseases!”

“Relax, she just has a cold.” Microphone reassures her friend.

“Well, last time I got a cold I almost died!”

“That’s besides the point.” Mic dismisses Soap as she directs herself to Taco. “So? Yeah or nah?”

Taco ponders. On one hand, she hates the idea of having to rely on someone else. The mere thought of another person holding her hand through a tough time makes her wanna hurl. She doesn’t need help! She never did!

On the other hand, she was very much going to die looking for shelter in the middle of this rain. There’s no doubt about that.

“Alright. I’ll take you up on that offer.”

“Wait. What offer?” Soap turns to her friend, very confused. “Mic, what are you two talking about?”

“I’ll take her to my place.” Microphone answers, resolute. “She won’t survive the storm outside in the state she’s in.”

“WHAT!?” The hypochondriac just doesn’t know what to think. “YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW HER! WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’LL TAKE HER HOME!?”

“Soap, it’ll be fine.”

“NO IT WON’T! WHAT IF SHE TRIES SOMETHING? WHAT IF YOU GET SICK? WHAT IF–”

Taco lays her head on the table, completely tuning out the other girls’ argument. She had a throbbing headache, her nose was clogged and her throat was just gone. She had never been so sick before. For a moment she thought that maybe this was karma for what she did to OJ… but then she remembered that she doesn’t believe in karma and immediately perished the thought.

When she managed to come to her senses the argument was already over. Soap was looking at her, reluctant. While Microphone looked at her with a warm smile.

“Do you need help getting up?” Mic offers, her warm demeanor almost makes Taco feel better.

“No, I can still walk.” The sickly woman gets up from the table, stumbling in the process. “I hope…”

Mic gives Taco a reassuring look. “Don’t worry, my place is not that far from here.”

“Weren’t you gonna order food?” Soap asks, still reluctant to trust the disgusting looking sewer creature that was Taco.

“I have some stuff back at home.”

Soap sighs in defeat. “Alright. If anything happens, I’ll be back at the restaurant.”

She takes a collapsible umbrella from her handbag and walks out of Frie-smart, making her way to her destination, but not before cleaning her hands aggressively after touching the door.

The two girls watch as she eventually disappears into the rain.

“We should get going.” 

Microphone grabs her umbrella, it was pink and yellow, with cute little butterflies printed on it. The sight of it made Taco snort. “That’s your umbrella?”

“Hey! It was a gift from a friend! And besides, just because I dress in all black, doesn’t mean I can’t have pink things. Got that?” To say Taco was surprised by Mic’s answer was an understatement. From a woman that showed her nothing but niceness and hospitality, she definitely wasn’t expecting a clap back like that.

“Y–yes ma’am."

The two huddled together, much closer than what Taco was usually accustomed with, to fit under the pink umbrella. Taco didn’t really know what to think of everything that had just happened. Sure, while most of the reason was because of the throbbing headache, the last hour had passed way too fast for her to even process.

But now. Under the pink umbrella, sheltered from the rain, being warmed up by Microphone’s body heat, she could finally take in all the events that had unfolded, even if just for a brief moment.

Chapter Text

Clover — February 19th, 2025

It was 2 in the afternoon, the sun was high up in the sky, with no way to escape its scorching heat, and the A2sement Park was starting to get really packed.

On the left-most corner of the park, in between the haunted house and all of the little stores, was a purple tent neatly decorated with esoteric trinkets and baubles. Despite the massive line of people wanting to go inside, the tent wasn’t actually an official attraction of the park, rather an independent business, allowed to be there by the park's owner.

In front of the tent was a dark-skinned woman in a sunhat, wearing a brown ankle-length skirt and a dark green bralette, she was handing out pamphlets and answering any questions that were thrown at her.

“So what you’re saying is that I’m gonna go inside the tent and some lady is going to tell me my future?” A man questioned, highly skeptical.

“Of course!” The girl answered, an innocent smile on her face.

“And you’re not just saying that to scam me out of my money?”

“Of course not! We would never do something like that.” She giggles. “That would be just plain evil. And besides, there wouldn’t be such a big line if this was a scam.”

“I guess that makes sense.” The man calms down a bit, the frown on his face disappearing as he walks into the tent.

Of course, not all questions were related to the fortune telling tent.

“I looove your hair!” A girl pointed at the giddy one’s hair, it was long, curly and a beautiful shade of lime green. “What dye do you use?”

“Oh, I don’t actually use any dyes, it’s all natural.”

The girl gasped, stars in her eyes. “You were born with green hair!? Lucky!”

That was something she heard a lot. That she was lucky. No matter where she went, no matter what she did, someone always had to call her lucky. 

Won in a video game? Lucky. 

Passed her college entrance exams with flying colors? You’re so lucky! 

Her looks? You’re just lucky to be born that way. 

Sure, she appreciated the complements, but sometimes it got… tiring. Believe it or not, attributing everything that goes right in a person’s life to their luck does wonders for their self-esteem. Because if everything you have is due to luck, then you never really know if you have skill in anything.

Some hours had passed since the tent was opened, and the ginormous line was no more. The green haired girl noticed two boys whispering to each other while looking her way, one of them was very big and looked like he was fresh out of a baseball game, and the other was very small, wearing a Spoiled Lemon t-shirt and sporting some shiny metal forearm prosthetics.

They are new—and inventive—technology. Not many people have the necessary connections, let alone cash, to get something like that. So that boy was probably filthy rich, that or he just so happened to know the right people.

Speaking of him, he was rapidly approaching her with a devious smile on his face, while his taller friend just watched, embarrassed. He stopped in front of her, having to physically tilt his head up to meet her gaze.

“So, you’re answering people's questions?” He asks, his voice riddled with a venomous irony. “‘Cus I have a question.”

“Ask away.”

“Well, how do you feel knowing that you’d be executed in the Goikian Witch Trials?” The boy's intonation was an enigma. Sure he sounded sarcastic, but also not. It was truly difficult to know what he was trying to insinuate. Only that he was probably calling her a witch.

Either way, she wouldn’t even get an answer. As before she could open her mouth to ask him for clarification, the boy’s friend came out and yanked him away. “I’m sorry for him!” He yelled, as he dragged the small menace away.

The sunhat wearing girl was left completely dazed and confused. But she just decided to brush it off as a funny little prank.

“Clover dear, is everything alright?” Another darker-skinned woman stepped out of the tent, she looked like she just jumped out of a GnD (Goikys and Dragons) campaign, wizard hat included. “I heard some yelling.”

“Oh, hi Candle!” Clover turned and hugged her older sister. “It was nothing serious, just some boys being a bit silly.”

“Then I guess I was worried for nothing then.” She chuckled, a warm smile plastered on her face. She seemed to be in a good mood.

That wouldn’t last.

“Hello.” A man of no discerning features approached the two. “I have something I must share with you, the both of you.”

Candle’s expression immediately soured. Clover didn’t understand why. “My sister will not be a part of any discussions.”

She gestured towards the entrance of the tent, while maintaining direct eye contact with the man, who looked mildly annoyed. He enters first and Candle follows suit, leaving her confused sister completely alone on the outside.

The two sisters had a very close bond with one another, with Candle taking in Clover after she moved out of their childhood home. But even so, Clover knew that her older sister wasn’t fully honest with her. 

And the thing about Clover is that she was always the type of person that wanted to know more of something, always seeking to understand the full picture.

So Clover, driven by the desire to understand just what was going on with her sister, walks to the back of the tent in an area where the words that come from the inside can be heard more clearly.

“—and that’s why she is so important.” She manages to hear the man say, in a somewhat monotone voice.

“I have said so multiple times already. Clover isn’t the one we’re looking for.” Candle sounds incredibly mad. Something Clover hadn’t seen—or in this case heard—since she was 13.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I haven’t seen it!” Clover could hear her sister slam the table inside the tent. “And if I haven’t seen it, then that means it’s not her!”

“Oh please. Everyone knows your flames have been fizzling out in the past few years. You’re on borrowed time, Seer. But the Forrests’ grace isn’t indefinite.”

“Those are some bold words.” Candle spoke with authority, in a voice veiled by a thick layer of disdain completely foreign to Clover. “Need I remind you, a carrier pigeon’s job is to deliver a message. So, if you have nothing else to say, I suggest that you go back into your cage.”

“T-there are more things to discuss.” The man’s voice was shaky, Candle clearly scared him stiff with her words. “Such as—”

Clover was taken out of her eavesdropping session by footsteps approaching the backside of the tent. In an effort to make it look like she wasn’t obviously listening in to something she wasn’t supposed to, she pulls out her phone and starts fake scrolling. 

“Excuse me.” A female sounding voice called out to Clover. It sounded robotic, like it was coming from a text to speech model. “I want to ask you a question, if that is ok.”

The one who approached Clover was a robot, fully metallic, with eyes like camera lenses and visible doll-like joints. Clearly an older model from back when YoyleLabs didn’t care to make their robots look, or sound, even remotely human. She was wearing a battered up white button up shirt and a light blue tie—that wasn’t even tied correctly—with the letters D, P and A written on it in what looked to be sharpie.

Clover, being the big nerd she was, was so enthralled in the idea of seeing a vintage model that she didn’t even register the question.

“Uhm, is everything alright? Did I come at a bad time?”

“N-no!” Clover snaps herself out of it. “I was just… surprised to see an… older… you know…” She didn’t even notice just how offensive she was probably being until she was half-way through her sentence. “Sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m proud of the fact that I'm an older model that hasn’t spontaneously combusted yet." Clover tries to ignore just how morbid that sounded. “But anyways. Do you mind answering some questions?”

“Oh, sure.” Clover was still a little bit out of it after eavesdropping on Candle’s conversation.

“I saw that there was another woman with you. Are you two related?” The automaton’s question put Clover a bit on edge. Why did she want to know about that? Was she planning something? But at the same time, she didn’t seem untrustworthy to her… but the same could be said about most people Clover comes in contact with. She always sees the good in people.

“Yes.” Clover—even if she was cautious—just couldn’t bring herself to lie, at least not about something so trivial. “We’re sisters.”

“I figured as much. You two are very similar in appearance.” She seems to take a mental note of that information. “Now. What about that other man? Do you know him?”

“No, I don’t. I’ve never seen him before.”

“Alright. Alright.” The vintage model crosses her arms and looks down at the floor. She’s processing everything. “Does the name Forrest mean anything to you? Does it ring any bells?”

She had heard that name before. Candle would sometimes mention it while on the phone with other people. She also overheard it now: but the Forrests’ grace isn’t indefinite . This name meant something important, something this robot was looking into, something her sister was involved in.

It was now clear to Clover that whoever this was wasn’t just asking questions to be friendly. This was an interrogation .

“I’m sorry but… I don’t think so…” The fear of whatever could possibly happen to Candle if she spoke the truth caused her to lie.

“Sigh.” She audibly speaks, since she doesn’t have any way to actually sigh. “It’s alright. I apologize for being so sudden. I thought I was onto something, but it seems like I was just jumping the shark. Have a good evening.” She turns to leave.

Clover had many things she wanted to say, but she only managed one. “Uhm, I didn’t quite get your name.”

“Oh, of course. You can call me Remote.” 

“Alright then Remote, I’m Clover. It was nice to talk to you.” The girl speaks back, hiding her unease with a warm smile.

“Likewise. Have a nice evening, Clover.” Remote takes a couple of steps, before small wheels pop out of the soles of her feet, and she rollerskates away. Leaving Clover even more shocked than she already was. She must have someone to personally modify her, It’d explain why she was in such peak condition.

The uneasy girl walks back to the front of the tent, where Candle was waiting for her. “There you are. I was just about to call you to ask if you went ahead without me.” She was back to having that kind smile on her face, but this time Clover was sure she was faking it.

“I just lost track of time messaging some friends.” Clover has lied more than she has in her entire life just in the last few minutes.

“That’s great that you had fun. Can’t say the same for myself.” She says that last part under her breath. “But let’s get going. I’ve got a feeling it might rain.”

Clover giggles. “Did you divine that too?”

“No, I just watched the weather channel.”

The two sisters laugh together as they walk to the exit of the amusement park, leaving the events of the day a secret from one another, and the tent to be emptied out by the park staff.

Chapter Text

Taco — March 5th, 2024

An obnoxious alarm blared through the room and the sleepy woman slammed her hand on it to turn it off. She slowly opened her eyes, they were red and teary, like she had cried herself to sleep. She let out a deep shaky sigh, before dragging herself out of bed.

After taking a quick shower, reapplying her hair dyes and putting on her signature poncho she finally left her room, slightly dejected. 

She walked through the hallway to the living room where a woman with scarlet red hair sat at the center table, coffee in hand.

The two of them lock eyes with each other. “Wow you look hideous.” The girl at the table said, a look of utter disgust on her face. 

Taco thought of a clapback, but the woman sitting at the table was completely spotless. Her hair was perfectly groomed, her clothes didn’t have a spec of dust on them and her eyeliner was on point. “Pin… just shut it.”

Taco goes over to the stove to boil some water for tea. (they live in one of those apartments where the kitchen and the living room are together)

“There’s no way you are still not over that lo-ser.” Pin sounded incredibly disappointed.

“I am.” Taco’s voice was lower than normal. She was lying.

Pin frowned. “He was just a dumb stu-pid idiot, Taco. Besides, you were just playing him any-way.”

“How would you know that?” The British-sounding woman was clearly offended.

“You li-te-ra-lly told me that.”

Taco sighs and sits down at the table with her cup of tea, still looking sad. It had been two weeks since the fiasco at Hotel OJ. A big brawl that ended in multiple people injured and the entire place on fire. And while the brawl happened because of an argument between a jock and a jerk that ended up escalating, no one managed to catch the arsonist. 

On that same day, Taco had a very bad falling out with her then boyfriend Pickle. Sure, as mentioned by Pin, she was mostly just using him for his influential status. But, she still felt hurt about him insinuating that she never cared about him. She did care… Not much, but she did!

“You know.” Pin started. “I was watching the news while wai-ting for you to wake up. And I saw that the owner of that ho-tel that burned down lost his license.”

Ironically enough, that information made Taco feel better. Who would have thought that her hatred for OJ was enough to override her sorrow. “Serves him right.”

“Of course you’d say that.” Pin teases.

“What do you mean?”

“You can fool them, but not me. I know you’re the one who burned the place down.” A chill went down Taco’s spine. How did Pin know? She made sure to cover all of her tracks. No. She must be bluffing.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really? There was a big par-ty for people the hotel owner knew and you get in-vi-ted.” She smirks at the tea-drinking woman. “You ha-ted him and wan-ted to get back at him, so you esca-la-ted the argument between those two idiots and sneaked off to burn the place down while everyone was figh-ting.”

Taco looked at Pin, completely dumbfounded at the fact that she was able to just deduce her entire plan. “How!? Was it that obvious?” 

She casually took another sip of her cup of coffee. “No. I just have experience.”

“In burning buildings?”

“What!? No! Social engi— enjee— enji— Ugh!”

“Social engineering”

“Yeah, that.”

Taco was accustomed to helping Pin with stuff like that. Sometimes some words, usually the big and complex ones, just wouldn’t come out for her. No one really knows why, and Pin just refuses to try and get it diagnosed, instead opting for sounding out a word’s syllables, like a toddler that just learned how to speak.

“You should really get that speech impediment checked.”

“I alrea-dy said I don't need to!”

“Pin. What’s Leafy’s favorite food again?” Taco stared at her with a big smirk on her face.

Pin frowns, then sighs. “Ye-llow to-ma-to soup.”

“Thought so.”

The two chat until it’s time for them to leave. Exiting through the front door, and going for Pin’s car—since Taco has neglected getting her driver’s license.

After a bit of questionable driving, they arrived at a big beige building, it was a library. Some people say the place’s floor plan was made to resemble a filling cabinet, but Taco doesn’t really see it.

She steps out of the car and begins to walk towards the library’s big glass sliding door, before Pin rolls down the window of the car and calls out to her. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?”

“I’m certain.” Taco turns to face the woman at the car. “But do say hi to Leafy for me will you?”

“Will do!” Pin floors the gas pedal, speeding away—and making an obnoxious tire screech sound.

Taco watches the car disappear into the horizon, before walking through the sliding glass door of the library. It was insanely big on the inside, with periwinkle colored walls and enormous bookcases housing books of every genre and time period you could possibly think of. All neatly organised.

The poncho-wearing woman crossed the main area of the library, passing the multiple sections containing all sorts of genres from sci-fi to fantasy, self-help to cookbooks, and so on and so forth. 

Eventually, she ended up in a section with practically no one and a hanging ceiling sign that read Foreign Works. The section itself had multiple different bookcases, each one containing books from a given country.

Taco goes to the left-most side of the third bookcase—since the books were sorted by publishing order from left to right—and grabs a book with a yellowish cover and a title written in French. 

Satisfied, she walked towards one of the beanbag chairs to begin reading, but stopped when she caught sight of something peculiar, another girl, around the same height as her, was sitting at a table alone. She had both of her hands on her head and both of her elbows on the table. She looked… off.

Taco sighed and approached the girl carefully. “Is everything alright?”

The girl looked away from the open book in front of her and towards the one talking to her. She really did look out of it, but Taco couldn’t—nor wanted to—pinpoint why.

After a shaky deep breath, she spoke. “Yes. I’m alright.” 

“Alright then.” The two just stood there… staring at each other. It was pretty awkward. Eventually, Taco decided on doing something to break the silence. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

“O-of course not! You can sit wherever! This is a public library, after all.”  

Taco nodded, sat down at the table, and began silently reading her book. She stayed like that for a while, absorbed in her book, oblivious to the passing time and the world around her. That was until, the girl spoke once again. “What genre of books do you like to read?” 

The girl’s question brought Taco back to reality. “I don’t really focus on the genre that much. I usually just read the synopses to see if I’m interested.”

“That’s nice.” She flashes Taco a smile. “It must be easy for you to find books to read, I assume.”

“It still does take some time. Some synopses can be quite big.”

“Oh, definitely…" The girl’s eyes land on Taco’s book. “What about the book you’re reading? What is it about?”   

“It’s not the most interesting book, but I quite like it. It’s the story about a man who commits a murder. I’d recommend it if it wasn't in french.”

“Oh.” The girl looked very surprised. “You speak French?”

“Why are you so surprised?” 

“You just… don’t look French. S-sorry if that sounds rude I—”

Taco felt highly offended for a moment. Until she realised that, yeah, she definitely didn’t look French. Everyone she met has said she looks Mexican. Come to think of it, Taco is kind of an enigma, she sounds British, looks Mexican and is French. How such a thing is even possible is something not even the smartest of scholars would be stumped on.

Of course, all of that could be explained by simply taking a look at her family lineage, but she’d sooner die than have to even come close to her parents.

“Don’t worry. I get it, truly.” Taco reassures the girl. “What about your book?” 

She gets taken off-guard. Seems like she wasn’t expecting to be asked that. “O-oh it’s not very interesting at all. Just a book about mental health."

The Mexican-looking woman tried to take a peek at her book, but all she could see was its orange cover. She did take this moment to observe her appearance, the girl had oak colored hair with clearly uneven bangs—it was as if someone had cut it badly on purpose—she also had a dark brown shirt and beige pants with yellow suspenders. 

“So, uhm…” She starts, catching Taco’s attention. “What’s your name?”

Taco ruminated on that question, which she shouldn’t. It’s just a simple question, but she couldn’t help thinking if there could be any negative repercussions of this stranger knowing her name. In the end, she realised she was just being paranoid. “The name’s Taco.” 

“Well then, I’m Suitcase!” She shows a weak smile, the smile of someone who was, slowly but surely, losing their reason to smile. Taco had seen that in Leafy before. And just as she did with Leafy, she felt pity.

“So, Suitcase, you seem to really like books.”

“Y-yes! When I’m not working, I’m always here to read!”

“Would you like to talk about books some more?”

“Of course!”

And the two stayed like that, talking about the multitude of books they’d read before for hours. Suitcase’s face got brighter and brighter with each moment she spent talking, and in turn, made Taco’s day all the brighter. So much that it got her thinking that maybe, just maybe, it was good to do some good once in a while.

Chapter Text

Clover and Candle — February 23th, 2025

“And that’s the last of them!” Clover cheered. She had been helping in moving some packages with her older sister, some were small wraps while some were big heavy boxes. “What are these for anyway?”

“They’re all very different from one another, some are clothes, others are books, and this one…” She opens up one of the boxes and pulls from it a purple deck holder. “This one is for my readings.”

Clover looked at the purple rectangular box her sister was holding with interest. “But I thought you already had a deck.”

“I do, yes, but this one is custom made.” Candle giggles to herself, like a child that just got a new toy. “It helps with the spectacle of it all, don’t you agree?”

Clover nodded. She really did agree with her sister, seeing her fully in costume, inside the densely decorated park tent, was indeed quite the spectacle and these fancy looking cards really were gonna add to that.

The young one was always by her sister’s side when it came to the readings at the A2sement Park, handing out pamphlets, answering questions and moving things around. 

And yet, she never had her fortune read.

“Hey sis.”

“Yes, dear.” Candle addresses her younger sister while still admiring her new tarot card deck. 

“I was wondering… Could you read my fortune?”

Candle looks at the green haired one in surprise. “Why?” She asked, a bit bluntly. “I thought you didn’t believe in these things.”

Her sister was right, she never really believed in Candle’s esoteric ideals. All this talk of auras, tarot cards, fate, energies and magic crystals—that somehow defy all laws of nature and just straight up heal people—it just didn’t make sense to her, like at all.

But she still couldn’t find it in herself to challenge her older sister’s beliefs, both because it did seem to be working out—somehow—but also because she felt like she shouldn’t.

It’s the least I can do. She thought to herself. Especially since, after everything Candle has done for her, critiquing her spirituality would be very rude.

That and maybe, just maybe, understanding her sister’s card readings could get her closer to whatever that whole Forrest deal is.

“Yeah, but I want to see now. Plus, I wanna know what I’m advertising.” She says, that same weightless smile plastered on her face, except this time it wasn’t quite as weightless.

“In that case…” Candle shoves the leftover packages to the side and sits at the table, before gesturing to the chair in front of her. “Please, take a seat.”

Clover obliges, while staring awestricken at the older woman’s dexterity, as she quickly shuffled and re-shuffled the deck of cards, before laying them face down on the table.

“Now please, choose three cards, but don’t flip them yet.” 

Clover obliges, noticing just how pretty the back of the cards are. They were black, with ornamented borders in silver color, and three glowing purple eyes in the middle.

Come to think of it, those purple eyes pop up a lot in Candle’s stuff.

Probably a branding thing.

The fortune-teller separates the three selected cards, while neatly putting the rest aside.

“Now what?” The curious girl asks, looking at the three face-down cards in front of her.

“Now, I’ll read the cards.” She places her hand on the left-most card, gently flipping it, revealing a picture of a wheel. “Ah.” Candle giggles. “Of course it would be this one.”

“W-what do you mean by that?” Clover asks, a bit worried.

“Wheel of Fortune, in an upright position.” She blinks slowly. “It represents luck and fortune.”

“Oh.”

“However, it can also represent an everlasting cycle, a wheel forever turning, orchestrated by fate.” She takes a deep breath. “Sometimes we may be at the top, but what comes up must always go down.”

“Wow. That’s… uh… a lot of words.” Clover really didn’t know what to say. People always mentioned how lucky she was. Lucky this, lucky that. It was always about luck with her. So could this…

No. It’s just a funny little coincidence.

“I assume you’re ready to go for the next one?” 

Clover replied with a nod, and Candle proceeded, flipping the middle card and revealing a picture of two people holding hands, except this one was upside-down.

“Now this one I wasn’t expecting.” Candle looked genuinely surprised, Clover didn’t know if that was a good thing, or a bad thing. “The Lovers, in reverse.”

“Oh no! Does that mean I’ll never find true love?!” Clover joked, trying to liven her own mood.

Candle giggled at her younger sister. “Now now dear. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Despite the name, this card’s meaning is much more related to an idea of balance and harmony.” 

“That’s great then!”

“However, as you can see…” She points towards the card. “The card is in reverse.”

Clover frowned a little at her sister's words.

“When reversed, this card references conflicts, either inner or outer." Clover could notice the worry in her sister’s voice. “It can also mean an… imbalance in a given relationship, platonic or romantic, the harmony that once existed in said relationship is… compromised.”

The fortune-teller’s words hung in the air, making the atmosphere much heavier than it needed to be.

“A-anyway! Let’s just go for the last card.” Candle quickly turns the right-most card. This one’s picture was much more elaborate, a tower standing tall amid an ocean of flames, thundering dark clouds high up in the sky. And if that wasn’t enough, the card was also in reverse.

Clover noticed her sister freeze the moment she saw the card, a complete foreign expression on her face. The young girl may not know what that expression entailed, but she knew Candle was in distress.

“Hey.” She put her hand on her sister’s in an effort to try and call her down…

Multiple images flashed in Candle’s head in quick succession, like a video being played at 2x speed. She couldn’t make out most of what she saw, but she could make out some things:

Clover finishing high-school;

Clover passing her entrance exams;

Clover leaving her parent’s house;

Clover enrolling in her dream college;

Clover dropping out of college;

Clover speaking to some random blond guy;

And lastly, an image that instilled complete and utter dread in the fortune-teller, Clover with a flower crown on her head.

“Sis? Is everything alright?” Candle felt herself being, quite literally, shaken out of her trance by Clover.

“Yes, dear.” She answers in a shaky voice, as she slowly gets up from the table. “I just… have to go cover a shift for a colleague today.”

She grabs her phone and her house keys, and makes her way to the door. “Please… tidy up the place for me will you?” 

She turns to give her worried little sister a comforting smile, but it falters and she exits the apartment, leaving a perturbed Clover behind. 

—

Candle was slouched against a wall, staring intensely at the other wall across from her. She couldn’t get that visual of Clover out of her head no matter how hard she tried.

They couldn’t have been right, could they? Maybe that was just a coincidence, maybe that was just a random flower crown, maybe it had nothing to do with the Forrests, maybe—

“Hey, Dreads!” A voice called out to Candle, breaking her out of her completely derailed train of thought. It was a blond woman—smaller than herself—standing at one of those small counters you’d see in the entrance of a restaurant. She was wearing a standard outfit you’d expect a waiter to be wearing, a white dress shirt and black pants and waistcoat, as did Candle. 

“You were staring off into space, and I’m not exactly in the mood to greet customers by myself.” The woman crossed her arms.

Candle had been assigned by her manager as this girl’s mentor two days ago. She very clearly did not have the makings of someone fit for customer service jobs… like at all. She was rude, easily irritable, hated being told what to do, couldn’t keep up a friendly face to save her life and, worst of all, sounded British. Candle truly had no idea why she was even hired in the first place.

“I still struggle to understand why you are even working here. Especially with that attitude of yours.” Candle told the rude woman, with the tone of an elementary school teacher that is very disappointed in her students.

“At least I haven’t burned any menus.” 

Candle took a deep breath, trying to maintain her composure, and prepared a reply, only to be interrupted by another voice.

“Can you two please behave?” Another woman made herself known, coming from the inside of the restaurant. She wasn’t dressed like the two waiters, instead being in a full black suit—she was one of the managers after all. “Especially you.” She pointed at the blond woman.

“Oh please, Mic.” She rolls her eyes. “This is just some banter between coworkers, nothing serious.”

The assistant manager raised her hand up to her face and squeezed her eyes shut, before letting out a very deep sigh. “I’m just going to say this straight to both of you.” She put her hands together, and gave the two a smile of someone that is way too stressed. “We’re going to be receiving a guest today. He has a reservation.”

“And what does that have to do with us arguing?”

“He’s like, mega rich. Unbelievably rich. Like, ‘may or may not invest in our restaurant if he likes it a lot rich’.” 

The two waiters stared at their manager without a word, processing what she had just told them.

“And you decided to tell us this now? And not at the beginning of our shift, so we could have planned accordingly?” Candle asks, feeling herself tense up at the mere thought of meeting rich people.

“Ms. Incense is correct. You could have told us earlier.” The blond woman didn’t seem to mind the fact that she was gonna be meeting someone of a higher societal bracket than her, but that didn’t really surprise Candle all that much. She always had the air of being rich herself—even if she was clearly a bum… it’s probably the accent.

The three could hear the sound of the restaurant’s glass door opening, as a man entered the establishment. He had long silver hair tied up in a ponytail, and wore a white poet shirt. 

The man looked around the entrance of the restaurant, examining every nook and cranny of the place, as if trying to find any flaws. Until he, eventually, locked his eyes onto Taco, who turned to Mic for guidance, only to be answered with an anxious smile and two thumbs ups, as she moonwalked out of the room. 

Taco turns back to the restaurant’s honored guest and clears her throat, before speaking. “Welcome to Reality Restaurant.” She straightens her bowtie. “A table for one?”

The man’s expression softened as he heard Taco speaking. “Yes, it will be just me.” He also spoke in a British accent, much to Candle’s dismay.

“Splendid! Please, follow me.” Taco directs the man to his table, while Candle goes to the inside of the establishment to grab a menu.

Candle takes a menu off a little counter, and carefully makes her way to the rich man’s table—all the while every single worker in the restaurant stared at her, silently pleading for her to successfully deliver a menu for once in her life.

“Here’s your menu, sir.” She flawlessly sets the menu on the man’s table, and the entire restaurant sighs in relief. 

“Thank you, dear.” He answers, and starts browsing.

There’s something off about this man. Candle thought. He seemed… troubled. She was very good at noticing these subtle tells on people, it was one of the reasons she knew what to say during a fortune-telling session. Well, that and something else.

Candle took a deep breath and closed her eyes, transporting her to a world where the light couldn’t quite reach. And it was in this world, where she could see clearly. Where the silver-haired man sat, was now a tiny flame, on the brink of fizzling out. It barely had any color left, but Candle could tell that it was once purple. And it was then that she understood.

She opened her eyes once more.

“My, oh, my, I truly wasn’t expecting so many options.” The man says, slightly condescendingly. “I’m having trouble choosing.”

Now was her chance to make a good impression. “Do you have any preferences in dishes, sir?”

“Yes, quite a lot in fact, but today I’ve come to expand my culinary horizons.”

“In that case, might I suggest the salmon risotto? It is one of our chef’s specialties.”

“Salmon it is then.” The man closes his menu and places it on the table.

“Anything else?” Candle asks, while jotting down his order.

“A ceasar salad.”

“Any drinks?”

“No, I’m not too fond of drinking during a meal.”

Candle finishes taking the man’s order. “Very well, your order will be done in a few minutes.”

The waiter left the table to take the order to the kitchen, only to then notice that around 30 more people had already been seated. She sighed in defeat and prepared herself for all of the orders she was gonna have to take.

—

It was now 9 p.m. and a now exhausted Candle was preparing to leave the restaurant she had spent the entire day working at.

I need sleep right now. She thought, as she grabbed the glass door to leave.

“Hey, Candle. Do you have a minute?” And just like that, her moment was ruined.

“What is it, Microphone?” The worker turned to face her manager, not even trying to put up the front of being relaxed. “I’ll have you know, I’m at the park on Mondays, so don’t expect me here tomorrow. It’s part of my contract.”

“Yes. Yes. I know that.” Mic sighs. “I’m not trying to get you to do extra work.”

“Then what is this about?” Candle was getting impatient, which was very uncommon for her.

“It’s about the guy with the reservation from today.” Candle raised an eyebrow, and Mic continued. “He spoke to me after his meal, said it was ‘splendid’.” She tried to mimic his accent, and failed miserably. “He also went on and on about how he loved the service here.”

Candle was now paying full attention.

“So basically, you did a great job and you’re getting a raise. He-also-asked-me-to-give-you-this.” Microphone shoves something in Candles hands and goes back into the restaurant.

Candle inspects the object, it was a small piece of paper that read “I wish to speak more with you. Please feel free to contact me.” in very pretty cursive, followed by what Candle assumes must be the man’s phone number.

The woman blinked a couple times, debating if she should just throw the paper in the trash. She decided against it, shoving it inside her pocket haphazardly, and leaving the establishment.

She was pretty interested in what she saw in the man, his energy, it was fading and his aura was very weak. That and well…

There could be some benefits to befriending a rich person.

Chapter Text

Taco — February 20th, 2025

“Didn’t you see the news today?” Taco could hear Microphone’s voice coming from the living room. It sounded like she was talking to someone on the phone. “I heard they said it was gonna rain again…”

Taco was currently sitting at the guest-room’s bed, bundled up with three blankets. She woke up even worse than she was yesterday; she felt like outside the comfort of the blankets was too cold, while inside it she felt too hot.

Her eyes were red from lack of sleep, her nose was clogged, her head throbbed with a headache, and she felt like she was gonna drop dead any moment now.

She was so awful that she didn’t realize that Mic had already finished her phone call and was now at the door to the guest room.

“Hey! Uhhh…” Mic enters room with a cup of tea in her hands. Her eyes immediately landing on the sick creature that sat at the bed. “I brought you some tea.”

Taco takes the tea from Mic’s hands and takes a few sips, not being able to even taste it anymore.

“So…” Microphone sits next to Taco at the bed, the mattress denting as she did it. “It’s still raining outside.” She stares at the room’s window intensely. “I don’t wanna risk going out in the rain, and you look like an expired raisin; so I guess neither of us are leaving this apartment anytime soon.”

“You. Took me in. And are still afraid of getting sick? In the rain?” Taco tries to speak, her voice hoarse.

“No. I just don’t wanna short-circuit.” 

Mic’s blunt answer confused Taco.

“Short-circuit?”

Microphone whips her head around to look at Taco, an unamused expression on her face.

“Have you ever seen a human with dark-gray skin before?” 

Taco stares at Mic’s face, now noticing how her eyes looked incredibly glass-like and that the shine in them that she had seen the day prior might have simply been the reflection from the restaurant’s lights.

She truly didn’t know what to think of the new information. She had never—in all her years of living in Goiky—interacted with an artificial being before. The closest she’s ever got was Firey’s… project… a year or two ago. And even then it didn’t look, nor sound, as life-like as Microphone.

“I. Apologize… I didn’t realize…” Taco whispered in her hoarse voice, a tinge of sadness in her voice.

A sadness that Mic picked up on. “Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s alright.” She places her hand on the sickly woman’s forehead, who flinched as soon as her cold hands touched her.

“Your hands. Are cold.”

“Did you expect metal to be warm? In this shitty weather?”

“What metal are you even made of?” Taco asks, her voice slowly getting back to what it once was. It was definitely the tea.

“Uhhh… Brass, bronze and… Uhhh… Aluminium…? I think.”

Taco takes a very puzzled expression. “Those three melt too easily. Why not just use steel?”

“Dude. Can you even imagine how much I’d weigh if I was made of steel? Also, why are you asking as if I made myself?”

“Never-mind-that. How much do you weigh now?”

“Twice or three times as heavy as an average adult man.”

“That’s…” Taco takes a second to think about it. “…a lot.”

“Yep.”

The two stay in silence for a long time, with nothing but the sound of the rain outside, and Taco sipping tea. 

This atmosphere made Taco quite introspective. Maybe it was the rain, or the silence, or the sickness, who knows. All that matters is that she caught herself thinking about her past choices.

Her past friends.

No.

Her past acquaintances.

Come to think of it. Has she ever had any friends?

She and Pin were close, yes. But was she truly her friend?

Was Leafy?

Was Coiny?

Was Firey?

Was Pickle?

Every time she approached someone, it was because she had something to gain. 

Pin was a local, she knew her way around; something Taco, a foreigner—a stranger—desperately needed.

Coiny came as an extra while hanging out with Pin. They were inseparable, nauseatingly so. But he also had connections, he knew certain people that could further benefit Taco in some way.

Leafy was similar to Taco, in the sense that she knew how to make people curve her way. She was friendly—no—cordial. She was the type of person that could get anything and everything just by flashing a smile and talking softly. She used to say it was just the norm where she was from, and Taco never questioned it.

Firey was no one special, but that was exactly what made him special. He was a goody two shoes, the first one to bow down towards someone of greater power than him. He was inconspicuous, a perfect alibi.

As for Pickle…

He was an influencer, he had a following. A large following. Such following gave Taco visibility, and that visibility gave her privileges. 

Privileges that made her feel special. 

Privileges that made her feel vindicated.

Privileges that she always wished she had.

But now… 

She no longer had anything.

Just like back home.

Truth be told, she had been this sick before—if not even worse. Wandering the streets of Paris with no place to call home; the scrutinous eyes of the well-dressed following her every move, the eyes of those who would look at her with profound distaste.

To them she was nothing more than a bum, a hobo, une miseráble.

That’s what she was then…

…And that is what she is now.

Nothing more.

“…Microphone…” Taco’s face coats itself in tears that she could no longer hold back. “Do you think that… bad people… are worthy of redemption?”

The gray robot recoiled at the unexpected question, before dropping her gaze to the ground. 

“I…”

She focused on her hand, with the stare of someone that had seen much more than they wished they had. 

She took a deep breath and raised her gaze.

“Whether or not they are worthy is a tough one… But I think if they’re truly willing to try…” Mic turns to face Taco. “There’s no harm in giving them a chance, right?”

“But… I’ve burned so many bridges…”

“And? You can still build new ones; I-know-I-did.” She sneaks that last part under her breath.

Taco rests her head on Mic’s shoulder. 

It was cold, hard and very uncomfortable.

But she didn’t mind. She slept in worse. Much worse.

She didn’t want to fall asleep, she had much left to say.

But alas, the land of dreams claimed her.

All the things she left unsaid dripping, staining the floor, like the raindrops outside.

Chapter Text

Candle and Clover — February 25th, 2025

Harmonic hums echoed through a dark room. It was illuminated exclusively by scented wax candles, as the room’s only window was boarded up, not only impeding the light from entering, but also anything from getting out.

Four people stood at the center of the room, perfectly still, like statues. They were all huddled together in such a way that made the one in the middle, a very familiar looking dark-skinned woman, very uncomfortable. She was blindfolded, arms outstretched, and being embraced by the other three, one for each arm, and one from behind.

She felt claustrophobic and airheaded, as one of the people—more specifically the one who hugged her from behind—was pressing her chest a bit too tightly.

While all of this was going on, a fifth man, older than the rest and responsible for the humming, circled them clockwise, slowly. 

A scenario like this would be the stuff of nightmares to almost any woman. Being stuck in such a compromising position, for multiple hours, while being this close to literal strangers (all men by the way) in a dark room, no less.

However, that was something Candle had already grown accustomed to a long time ago.

Eventually, the old man circling them stopped dead in his tracks, ceasing his humming in the process. Almost as if instantly, the other three men released Candle and slowly made their way to the door of the room. 

A winded breath escapes the blindfolded woman’s mouth, as the door closes once again, leaving only Candle and the old man in the room.

“Your expression means our attempt is once again inconclusive, correct?” The old man speaks in a soothing voice.

“Yes…” Candle answers, between heavy breaths.

“Shame, a real shame.”

The man brushes his wrinkly hand over one of the tables. On top of it was a little pouch and two cups of water, one was full and the other was at its half. 

“It seems our previous methods did indeed prove more effective.” He grabs the pouch and fiddles with it. “Returning to such methods would surely benefit all.”

The man’s words wormed their way into Candle’s head. Sowing small seeds of doubt within her.

She shook them off.

“While I understand our current predicament, Mr. Forrest.” She stares intensely at the blindfold she held in her hands. “I’ve already explained why returning to prior methods would lead to problems.”

“Such problems could easily be resolved. I have told you so.”

Candle shoots a glare at the man, incredibly uncharacteristic of her. “And I have already told you that such a thing will not be happening.” Her gaze softens as she slowly tries to recompose herself. “I truly am grateful for everything you and the family has done for me during these past years; but I cannot allow my sister to reach such lows as I have.”

Candle fully recomposes herself. “I have to be there to provide for her; to assure that her path forward is the least bumpy one possible.” Her gaze drops to the floor. “The previous method would impede that mission.” 

Once she raises her head she is met with Mr. Forrest holding a cup of water, an unnervingly calm expression plastered on his face. “In that case, we’ll just have to look for other possible alternatives.”

Candle nods, taking the cup from the man and drinking it in one go, it tasted weirdly salty. 

“I’ll be taking my leave then, Mr. Forrest.” Candle takes a bow and leaves the room through the open door, leaving the old man alone in the room.

He stared at the table once more, where the half empty glass stood next to an open pouch with little colorless medicine tablets spilling out of it.

“I apologize profusely, Seer, but I will be looking into other possible alternatives myself. As this family’s father, the onus falls on me to provide and care for them.”

—

Clover was walking through the Goikian National Park, taking in the scenery. The big trees and abundance of greenery and pretty flowers, brought joy to her heart.

At a time like this she should have been in class, hearing Prof. Bubble’s lectures about the importance of cultural preservation—while trying really hard to understand her funky accent—, but ever since the university went on strike for reasons only Director Four really knows, she’s been trying to find ways to kill the time.

Usually that would entail her spending hours of her day watching youtube tutorials on how to play her older sister’s bass. 

However, the past few weeks have been very… complicated for Clover.

The mysterious man that talked to Candle, the questions asked by Remote, her sister’s reaction to the card readings…

It all made her very uneasy, so she decided to take a walk at the park to try and take her mind off things.

Keyword being try.

Because it wasn’t working. 

Those thoughts continued to haunt her, alongside her usual insecurities, making the already hostile environment that was her mind even worse.

She started walking faster down the jogging track in the park, picking at the skin around her nails, as her anxiety rose exponentially.

She couldn’t believe it.

There was no way her relaxing trip to the park was going to turn into such a nightmare

Only a miracle could save her now.

…

…

Clover then ran face first into someone, as she wasn’t looking at where she was going.

Neither of them fell to the ground, but Clover’s head now hurt like hell after the collision.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going!” The one who she ran into—a blond guy in a varsity jacket—scolds her, before inspecting the screen of the DSLR camera he held in his hands. “At least the photo didn’t get ruined…”

The man looked at Clover rubbing her head in pain, a mix of concern and frustration reflected in his brown eyes.

He sighed.

“You okay?”

“Y-Yeah! I– I’m so, so so sorry I wasn’t looking and—”

“It’s whatever.” The man continues messing with the settings of his camera.

Clover, head still pounding, takes notice of his expensive looking camera. “That camera looks very… professional-like. Are you a photographer?”

“Yep.” The man didn’t even look away from his camera.

“Why are you taking pictures of trees in the public park?” Clover scans the area, looking for other people. “Did someone commission you?”

“Nah. I just… felt like it today.” The blond guy, finally, looks away from his camera. Staring at the big tree he was previously taking pictures of.

Clover giggles. “So you’re saying that you just woke up and thought “Today I’ll take pictures of trees at the park”? ‘Cus that’s kind of silly.” 

The man scoffs. “You clearly just don’t understand my methods. Besides, the pictures turned out great!”

Satisfied with his pretty picture, the photographer starts walking away.

“Where are you going?”

He stops and turns to look at her, eyebrow raised. “Why would you wanna know that?”

“O-oh. I-it’s just that… I wanted to ask you some tips about photography…” Clover backtracks, after noticing how creepy she probably sounded asking him that.

“I guess that makes sense. I’m going to the center of the park. They have some food stalls there.” The man looked at Clover one more time, she was twiddling her thumbs while looking back at him with a rather awkward face, he sighed again. “You can come with me if you want… I’m not paying for your food though.”

“I’d love to!” She answers—as if she wasn’t trying to coax him into offering. 

The two start walking towards their destination.

“My name’s Clover, by the way.”

“I’m Gold.”

The giddy girl gasps. “Gold? Like Gold Horseplay? I’ve seen your work online! You’re the one who took the photos of that one hotel!” She looks at Gold, his expression blank. “You know, the one that—”

“That burned down, yeah.” There's a brief period of an undecipherable emotion in his face. “I was good friends with the owner too.”

“It really was a shame what happened.”

“I’d say it was karma, if you ask me.” 

Clover felt like asking him why he thought that, but she realized that that was a personal story she wasn’t entitled to know about. So she decided to ask about something else.

“Do you believe in karma?”

“Do you?”

“My sister is the one who believes in this type of stuff.” She starts thinking about Candle again. “But I don't know if I believe in it.”

“I like to think it’s real. ‘Cus then the people who wronged me can get screwed over.”

“And what if you wrong someone? Then what about you?”

“Then I get screwed over. Simple as. It’s only fair.” Gold looks at Clover, a thinkative expression on her face. “But that’s just what I think.”

“It’s just… What if they regret it? Like, say, the person that burned that hotel; what if they regret it afterwards? Do they still deserve karma?” 

“Do you have something to confess?” He asks playfully, raising his eyebrow.

“What? No!” She shakes her head aggressively. “That was just an example!”

“Then maybe they should’ve thought twice before committing arson.”

Both share a laugh.

“I guess you’re right.”

The two continue walking and talking about a myriad of topics.

I guess coming to the park was a good choice. She thought to herself, finally taking a moment to think about something that wasn’t the anxiety-inducing mysteries surrounding her sister.

But still, she wandered.

Where even is her sister anyway?

—

Candle arrived at her destination, a super big apartment complex.

It was in the north area of the capital, where all the 20-something story buildings were built—all of which were inhumanely expensive.

The mere size of the buildings made her feel dizzy, which was weird since she wasn’t the type to feel that way.

Whatever the case, she approached the desk where the building’s doormen stood watch.

“Excuse me.” She began. “I’m looking for a Silver. Does he live here?”

One of the doormen simply stared at her with a look of incredible scrutiny.

At first she was incredibly confused.

Until it finally clicked, and the warm smile on her face was replaced with a big frown.

“Don’t mind him.” The other doorman pushes the previous one to the side. “Mr. Silver mentioned he’d get a visitor. I’m assuming you’re Ms. Mason?”

“Yes.” Candle answers bluntly; she isn’t a big fan of being addressed by her surname.

“In that case, it’s the closest elevator to the left. It’s the one on the 20th floor.”

Candle made her way inside the elevator and pressed the 20th floor, the very last one.

Of course he’d live in a penthouse. 

She watched as the little screen above the buttons, displayed the floor numbers in ascending order; its red light slightly irritating her eyes along with the other bright lights inside the elevator.

Eventually, the elevator reached its destination.

The 20th floor of the building, where only one door stood—it was a penthouse after all.

She raised her arms to knock on the door, only to freeze for a moment, overcome by a weird wave of dread.

Like what she was about to do.

Couldn’t be undone.

She took a very deep breath, shook that irrational feeling off, and finally knocked on the door.

“I’ll be right there!” Came a shout from the other side of the door.

After a couple of seconds the door swung open, revealing a familiar long-haired man.

“It’s very nice to see you, dear.” Silver says, with a smile. “Please, come in.”

He gestures for her to enter, and she obliges, stumbling slightly from her dizziness.

Upon entering she noticed just how luxurious the place was; with hard wooden floors, a huge leather coach, expensive carpets, large window panels that covered two of its walls top to bottom, displaying the most beautiful view of the city at night, and that wasn’t even half of it. 

It was also incredibly well-kept and clean.

Silver seemed to notice Candle analyzing the place. “A great place, yes? I’m always making sure this place is in peak condition; even if it sees little to no visitors, besides, well, myself.”

That information shocked Candle. “With a status such as yours, I was expecting this place to get filled with others for higher-class get-togethers.”

“Oh please, dear. I may have the money, but I haven’t been able to do much networking as of yet.”

Candle noticed that those words were weighty, coming out of the posh man's mouth with a great deal of pain, perhaps even a dash of self-loathing.

Her dizziness was getting worse.

“Is that why you called me here? To have someone to share this place with?” Words fell out of Candle’s mouth. 

Words that seemed to slightly destabilize Silver.

“S-somewhat, yes.” He restructures himself. “As I’ve mentioned before, I’m not exactly from here; and you seemed very knowledgeable in more regional matters, so I thought it was only natural to discuss such things in a nicer environment.”

Candle’s eyes burned, as the lights from the room they were in seemed to blend together. “I’d love to speak to you on that matter. However, could we go to a room that doesn’t have as many lights? They’re irritating my eyes.”

Silver nodded, and proceeded to lead her up a small staircase at the side of the main room.

Said staircase connected to the second floor, with a couple extra rooms. 

The duo entered one of them, a relatively neat—and surprisingly humble-looking—little bedroom. It was decorated with some books and a couple of potted plants.

“Is this room more to your liking? It is my bedroom, but I suppose it will have to do.”

Candle didn’t respond.

Instead she just stared at the wall across from her with a vacant expression.

She seemed… out of it.

“Is… everything alright?” Silver extends his hand to touch her shoulder, but freezes halfway, not wanting to cause any discomfort by touching her.

Candle blinks rapidly, before coming back to reality. 

“Y–yes! Of course!” She turned to face Silver once again, allowing him to notice how her eyes looked slightly reddish. “I… apologize. I was just deep in thought.”

The two shared a silence.

Silver was capable of noticing that Candle was very clearly agitated, taping her foot nervously and scratching at her forearm. All the while maintaining intense eye contact with him.

It made him uncomfortable.

“Are you sure you're alright?” Silver asked once more.

Candle giggled, taking a step towards him.

“Perhaps the reason why you ask that is simply because you yourself are in distress.”

Silver’s words got stuck in his throat, as the atmosphere of the room got much heavier.

Candle takes yet another step.

“I understand the circumstances in which you find yourself…”

Silver notices how her demeanor was completely different from when she was in the restaurant.

Candle takes one final step, stopping mere inches from him, his back facing the bed.

“You’re alone, lost, drifting aimlessly amid the vast sea of life. Devoid of a concrete purpose…”

Her pupils weren’t always that color were they?

Candle trips.

No.

It was on purpose.

She throws herself onto Silver. Who catches her and manages to balance himself so that he doesn’t fall backwards.

“I can help with that.”

Those words echoed inside Silver’s mind. 

His whole body was shaking, as Candle was putting her entire bodyweight on top of him and he was exactly the most physically able person out there.

But not only that.

His body shook for he knew exactly what was going on.

The stumbling.

The vacant staring.

The red eyes.

The leg bouncing and the arm scratching.

It was clear to him that she was clearly under some sort of influence.

He knew the best solution was simply to lay her somewhere so she could rest.

But judging by the way she spoke, the way she acted, it was clear what her goal was.

He tried to set her up straight, but he had neither the strength nor the will to do so.

He faltered; his legs gave out and both fell backwards into the bed’s purple bedsheets.

In the end, the two stayed in that bedroom until the dawn of the next day, the sole witnesses for what happened being the roses in Silver’s room, not yet ready to fully bloom.

Chapter Text

Pepper - February 25th, 2025

“Alright Salty-salt. Here’s like, another one.” 

Two girls were sitting at a table in the middle of the school’s courtyard. A mountain of science related textbooks on top of it.

“What is the name of the hormone, produced in the anterior pituitary gland, that is responsible for the maturing of ovarian follicles?” The darker-skinned girl asked the lighter-skinned one, while holding a biology book.

“Wait! I know this one! It’s the… uhh…”

“Girl please. We’ve been here for like, three hours.”

“I promise I know this one. It’s the one that starts with F! Come on Pep, help a girl out.”

“I don’t think that answer’s gonna like, cut it on an exam, Salt.”

“It’s not my fault all these names are impossible to remember!”

The two girls continued their study for an extra hour, before Salt had to go.

Leaving Pepper to wander the school-grounds alone.

Come to think of it, when was she ever alone?

Was there ever a moment of her existence, in which her entire being wasn’t tethered to Salt?

She shook her existential woes off and decided to go get a bite to eat at the cafeteria.

She arrived at the counter and paid $20 for a croissant—an absolute robbery, but she was hungry so whatever.

Upon leaving the cafeteria she saw something that caught her eye.

A girl sitting alone on a stone bench, her golden hair so long it almost touched the floor. She was staring at her phone with a sad expression.

Pepper knew that girl, they were both in the same class and had gymnastics together.

She was also the ex of the most popular boy in school, that being OJ.

Even though they seemed to end-off on a high note, Pepper never could shake off the feeling that there was much more that happened behind the scenes.

But there was no way anyone would listen to whatever Pepper had to say, she was known around the school for having beef with OJ, after all.

“Hey girlie.” Pepper approached the saddened girl. “How you like, doin?”

“I’m good…” She says, still looking downcast.

“What are you like, doing in school after class? I thought you like, hated staying here.”

“I could ask you the same thing…”

“Oh, you know how it is… Just helping my BFF out with her studying, nothing much.”

The girl raises her head, as if she was scanning the courtyard for something. 

“I don’t see Salt anywhere though.”

“She left like, a couple of minutes ago. Something about having a family get-together.”

“And you’re still here?”

“Yeah, not like I have much of a choice.” Pepper checks her nails, while making a look of disinterest. “Our Majesty called for a council meeting; I like, kind of have to participate.”

The girl makes a weird face. “Our Majesty? You mean Michael?”

Pepper pretends to hurl. “I don’t like calling him by his name honestly. You know what they say about not inviting evil into your life, or whatever." She giggles at her own joke. “He does act like royalty though; but I guess you’d know that, right?”

She doesn’t answer; instead she grips the sleeve of her orange hoodie.

Pepper notices.

“Are you sure everything’s alright?” Pepper asked, completely dropping her popular girl persona for once; much to the girl’s shock. “Every time I see you in class you look very down.”

She still doesn’t answer.

So Pepper continues.

“And I haven’t seen you in gymnastics since forever.”

Pepper gently places her hand on top of the girl’s. “Just know that you can talk to me about things, alright? I am a great listener.” She flashes the girl a smile that radiates a kind of warm never seen before from Pepper.

She doesn’t give Pepper an answer.

Instead, the girl forces a giggle. “I guess you’d be good at listening, since Salt never lets you get a word in anyway.”

Pepper scoffs. 

“Come on now! Me and Salt are always there for each other! We both pull our weight! I… I have a voice.” She says, sounding much more desperate than she was trying to sound. 

The long-haired girl gave her a solemn look of understanding, the kind only a victim of unreciprocated and disproportionate love could give.

The two sat in silence after that, allowing those cold winds to carry them farther away from their own problems.

Problems that might sting a lot, more than anyone around those two could possibly conceive.

But at the very least…

They had each other.

Sitting on that cold and hard stone bench.

So similar, yet so different.

—

Pepper sat at a wooden bench at the park. The heat of the sun bothered her slightly, as she scrolled through her phone.

She wasn’t really paying attention to her surroundings, at least not until the sound of two voices caught her attention.

“—it just gave in.” The voice of someone she knew.

“The whole thing!?” And a completely new voice she had never heard before.

“Yep. They were lucky that someone there happened to be a lifeguard.”

The voices came from a man and a woman, walking together. Pepper knew who the man was, but not the girl.

The two seemed to be happily chatting away, which surprised Pepper; since he wasn’t really known for being the most talkative person.

“Weren’t you gonna go to the food stalls?” Pepper asked the man as he approached.

“Yeah. But they were packing up unfortunately.”

“Shame.”

Pepper noticed that the other woman was looking at the ground awkwardly.

“Sooo… who’s she?”

“Oh, her? She was just asking for some photography advice, and since I was going to the stalls I offered for her to come with me.”

“Wow, didn’t know you were like, such a ladies man.” Pepper teases, making Gold smirk, and the girl blush a bit.

“You know what they say, I’m just irresistible.”

“No one says that Gold; and also you’re still single.”

The other girl snorts.

“But anyways… What’s like, your name?” Pepper asks.

“I’m Clover.” She answers with a cute smile.

“Well, it’s like, nice to meet you Clover; I’m Pepper, Gold’s only friend.”

“Hey!” Gold interjects. “I have other friends!”

“No you don’t.” Pepper answers bluntly.

She grabs her phone to double check something before directing herself to the blond man.

“So, are you like, going to the party or not? It’s in a couple of hours.”

He sighs. “Do I have to?”

“Not really.”

“Who’s gonna be there anyways?”

“The usual group, some other bystanders and…” She shivers. “Her…”

Despite little to no information, Gold knew exactly who she was talking about. “Oh… Yeah I’m going. I’m not letting you be alone with Her.”

“Awesome! This is why you’re my BFF Gold.”

Pepper looks at Clover, who was admiring the little butterflies fluttering about.

That’s when she had an idea.

“You know…” She began. “The party allows for plus-ones.”

That seemed to catch Clover’s attention. “What?”

“What I’m saying is… wanna come with?”

“But I literally just met you two.”

“So what? Are you gonna decline a free invitation?”

“Pepper, that’s like safety tip number one: stranger danger.” Gold deadpans.

“We introduced ourselves! That means we're not strangers anymore, right?”

Gold facepalms.

“Come on, there's gonna be free wine!”

“I don’t drink.” Clover’s snappy answer makes Gold snort.

“T-there’s free… a-apple juice…?”

The two others look at her, a mix of confusion and amusement.

Clover thinks for a moment—a very long moment—, before letting out a very long and exasperated sigh and returning to her signature smile.

“Sure. Why not?”

—

Pepper arrived at the party alone, since Gold offered to drive Clover to the place.

She also arrived a bit late, due to the fact that she took too long to get dressed.

The party itself was at a big house in a remote area of the city. 

No one has any clue about who actually owns this house, and Knife—the one organizing the whole thing—refused to elaborate.

Either way, Pepper gets accompanied inside the house by Knife himself, before he disappears in the blink of an eye.

Leaving her alone in the middle of a bunch of people, most of whom she had barely spoken a single word to in her entire life. It made her feel left out.

Everyone in there had someone.

Knife was talking with a tall gray-skinned woman while his boyfriend, Felix, chatted away with Clover about something, with stars in his eyes.

There was a girl in a bear hoodie playing cards on the floor with a group of people Pepper had never seen before.

A blond woman with a pink beret was playing around with a laser pointer in one of the corners of the room, while her group of four other women laughed behind her. She was probably drunk.

Next to them was a short bronze-haired man, talking to a scarlet-haired woman wearing spiky bracelets, who Pepper swore she had seen in the news a year ago.

There was someone Pepper genuinely had talked to before—quite frequently actually—that being Book, but she was completely knocked out from excess drinking; sleeping peacefully on top of a larger woman. 

Said woman looked more alert than everyone in that place combined, silently watching and analyzing everyone she would land her eyes on.

It gave Pepper chills.

But not even those chills were enough to shake off the feeling of absolute desolation that overtook her.

Everyone had someone.

The droning sounds of music and chatter blurred together in her mind, as she felt herself completely detached from the location at hand.

She felt… 

Alone.

She had no one.

She hasn’t had anyone…

Not since…

“Hi, Pepper!” 

And just like that, all that desolation was replaced with dread. As a woman in a blue dress approached Pepper and gave her one big hug.

“I really thought you wouldn’t be coming! How have you been?”

“Great, Magnet. Just great.”

This girl had met Pepper in college, and for some reason she just wouldn’t let go of her; like at all.

She was like a magnet.

Hence the nickname; since Pepper could not be bothered to actually remember the girl’s name.

She kept going on and on about her life, while Pepper just stared off into the distance, spacing out to avoid having to talk to her; silently praying that something happened to save her from her plight.

“There you are Pepper.” As if to answer her call, a short man dressed in yellow approached her. “I was looking for you.”

“Oh really?” She asks, practically clawing herself out of Magnet’s hug. “What for?”

“Horseplay wants to talk to you. He's on the balcony, it’s up the stairs to the left.”

It seems her prayers were answered after all.

“Shame, I wanted to talk more with you Pepper.” Magnet sighs. “But I guess it can wait.”

Pepper was already at the balcony by the time Magnet finished her sentence.

And surely enough, there was Gold; arms rested on the railing.

He was wearing an orange hoodie. A completely basic and uninteresting piece of wardrobe for anyone that saw him wearing.

Everyone except Pepper, that is.

She recognized that hoodie. 

She knew what that hoodie meant.

It’s incredible actually. 

Just how much history such a mundane piece of clothing could hold.

How much meaning it could possess.

Pepper approached him, leaning on the railing as well.

The two stood in silence for a while, basking in those familiar cold winds from long ago, responsible for carrying them this far.

Eventually, Gold spoke.

“Do you remember when we met for the first time?”

“Yeah; you were my partner in gymnastics.” Pepper reminisces, using her real voice for once. “I still remember the big gold trophy.”

“Do you still have your copy of the photo? Mine's ruined.”

Pepper gave Gold a solemn look. “I do… I can… make a copy if you want.”

“Nah, there’s no need. Just keep it safe for me, will you?” A layer of melancholy coated his words. “That’s the only one left.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I… only have photos from after high school… Everything else is gone.”

Pepper thinks for a moment.

“Is that why you got into photography?”

“Maybe, it was.”

A silence befalls them once more.

Until…

“I never got to ask. What did you think about the whole hotel stuff?” Pepper asks.

Gold exhales sharply. “Part of me was… happy, actually. I thought it was karma for all those years.”

“But I’m guessing you were conflicted.”

“I was. It was a tragedy; he was lucky only the common areas of the hotel got caught in the flames.” 

The man looks at his hand, multiple things going through his head. “I guess that’s just a me thing; being conflicted.”

“Don’t be like that.”

Gold’s eyes started watering; and he burst into tears.

Tears that had been built up for years of distress.

Pepper hugged him gently.

“You’re my BFF.”

She allows herself to cry as well.

“I–I’ve said it once… a–and I’ll say it again.” She was sobbing uncontrollably, gasping for breath in between each word. “Y–You c–can t–talk to me about t–things, alright?”

She tightened her embrace, gripping on his orange hoodie.

“I’m a great listener.”

Gold manages to bring himself to hug her back.

He opens his mouth, finally ready to say what he never did all those years ago…

The answer that girl never gave Pepper.

“Thank… you…”