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Br’aad is on his back in the grass, his friends scattered somewhere around him, idly tossing a pinecone up and up and up again, keeping a steady rhythm. As it drops back down into his hand again, he decides their little gathering is a little too quiet. “Hey, did you guys know tomorrow is New Year’s Eve?”
“Really?” Taxi asks, sounding genuinely surprised somewhere to Br’aad’s right. “That feels too soon. I guess I completely lost track of time.”
“Maybe because we fell through time a few weeks ago,” Sylnan suggests from Br’aad’s left.
“And we’ve been busy,” Velrisa adds, a little more quietly than the other two. “I completely forgot about New Year’s.”
“Never thought I’d be spending New Year’s trying to kill a fuckin’ dragon-turtle,” Mountain’s gruff voice joins in as Br’aad hears the click of a flask opening.
“How’d you spend all the other ones?” Sylnan asks, a grin in his voice. “Drinking?”
“Yeah.”
Br’aad smiles wider at Mountain’s deadpan, tossing the pinecone higher and higher, a small dark shape against the rushing clouds. Up and down and up, and then a furry hand darts into his field of vision and snatches the pinecone out of the air. Taxi’s head pokes into Br’aad’s view, silhouetted against the sky, grinning down at him. Br’aad gives up on his resting position in the grass and sits up, and gets a pinecone to the forehead for his efforts. He sticks his tongue out at Taxi. Taxi only smiles.
“What about you, Br’aad?" Taxi asks, ducking as Br’aad throws the pinecone back. “Ever do anything on New Year’s?”
Sylnan snorts. “The only way you could ever even tell it was New Year’s in the wharf was all the excess drinking.” He glances over at Mountain, whose flask is halfway up to his mouth. “You would’ve fit right in.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty much it,” Br’aad agrees, jumping in before Mountain and Sylnan can derail the entire conversation with their bickering. “I mean, it made it easier to steal from people, but that’s basically all we did. What about you?”
“Tabaxi don’t actually celebrate the same New Year’s you guys do,” Taxi says, his smile shifting to something softer, like he’s reminiscing. “Ours is in the spring, when the snow melts and everything starts growing again.”
“That sounds exactly like some shit you’d say,” Mountain says.
Taxi ignores him. “My point is, I’ve never actually celebrated a New Year’s like yours before. This would be… the first time.”
“So what do tabaxi do for their New Year’s, then?” Velrisa asks Taxi.
“Mostly old traditions, I guess. Family gatherings, specific meals. It was focused on time spent with others to bring in the new year together, so the more people you have, the better.” Taxi’s tone dropped off in a way that suggested his old celebrations hadn’t exactly reflected that. “What about you, Vel?”
“It was like that on Afterforge too,” Velrisa says softly, the same note of reminiscence in her tone. “There was food and music and dancing, and the whole island sort of came together to celebrate as one. It was nice. Loud… but nice.”
“So the loudness is always a thing. Good to know.” Br’aad pauses, considering, then asks towards the group at large, “You guys think we should throw a party?”
“What, fighting a dragon-turtle and trying to stop the end of the world from happening isn’t enough of a party for you?” Sylnan returns, eyes set on the flask in Mountain’s hand in a way that looks like he really wants to steal it just to mess with Mountain.
Br’aad mentally gives up on the two of them and just prepares for whatever argument that’ll inevitably follow. In response to Sylnan’s question, he just shrugs. “Old news. We’ve been talking about the end of the world for ages. New Year’s is new.”
Taxi nods sagely. “As is in the name.”
“I see your point, Br’aad,” Velrisa says, “But we are going to be very busy tomorrow.”
“Maybe we’ll end up defeating Ungoro really really early.”
Velrisa shrugs, a gesture that carries an I-don’t-care air with it, but Br’aad can tell he’s managed to amuse her. A little bit. “Then plan as many parties as you want, I suppose.”
Taxi’s ears flick as his face lights up with an idea. “Br’aad, we could make another cake!”
Sylnan gives a long-suffering groan, amid a few laughs from the others at the mention of Br’aad and Taxi’s fruit cakes. “Oh, fuck off.”
“That’s what you said last time,” Mountain accuses, now deliberately holding his flask out of Sylnan’s grasp. “You’re not cursed anymore. Stop being an ass about the cakes.”
“Aww, Mountain.” Taxi smiles in that way he does where it’s openly affectionate but a little smug and teasing. So mostly directed towards Mountain in general. “You’re so nice to me.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Mountain, without standing up, manages to scoot himself pointedly out of Sylnan’s area of reach, and shakes his flask with an air of finality before tucking it away. “Anyway, Vel’s right. If you wanna throw a party, throw a party. But good luck finding the time to do it.”
Br’aad fakes a yawn. “Time this, time that. That’s all we ever talk about these days. If I-”
“Speaking of time,” Velrisa cuts in, “Not to interrupt your party planning, Br’aad, but we all ought to get going. We’ve been here long enough as it is.”
There’s a chorus of groans from the other Fated, but everyone heeds Velrisa’s words and stands, Taxi reaching out a hand to pull Br’aad to his feet. As they begin to walk, Taxi and Br’aad are at the tail end of the group, and Taxi leans down to ask, sounding almost surprised, “Are you really going to try and have a party for New Year’s, Br’aad?”
Br’aad shrugs. “All I’m saying is, you never know what might happen. We could defeat Ungoro in twenty minutes and have all the time in the world left to throw the coolest New Year’s Eve party anyone’s ever thrown.”
“Or we could get eaten by the bastard in twenty minutes and that’ll be our New Year’s present,” Mountain suggests from up ahead.
“Now that’s a party,” Sylnan adds drily.
“You two are rays of sunshine today,” Velrisa comments from Mountain’s other side, giving him one of those warning looks of hers that still strikes Br’aad as amusing despite the subject matter.
“Don’t listen to them,” Taxi murmurs into Br’aad’s ear, under the noise of the other three bickering about their apparently certain doom. “You know they’re just-”
“Coping,” Br’aad finishes, because it’s not like he hasn’t made his fair share of jokes about the end-of-the-world situation. In some way or another, he knows that’s what the party planning is too. Maybe if he gives himself something to look forward to after the end of the world, the end of the world will seem a little less inevitable.
He doesn’t say any of this out loud, but Taxi seems to get it anyway, offering comfort in the shape of a soft, furry arm around Br’aad’s shoulders. They don’t acknowledge it, much. The jokes are easy, at least a little funny, and they tell it like it is. The honest emotional truth is different. It’s something no one wants to deal with anymore.
So Br’aad leans back into Taxi and starts shooting off ideas for their hypothetical New Year’s party that they might never throw. He gets into it until he’s laughing, and then until Taxi’s laughing, and then until he’s dragged the entire party, however unwillingly, into the conversation and they’re all making wild contributions. He talks and talks for the rest of their little journey through the woods, until he feels like he could really believe in a New Year’s Day happening after tomorrow.
He talks until he stops dwelling on it. It’s never really suited Br’aad to dwell on things, anyway.
* * *
Br’aad is lying on his back in the grass, his friends scattered somewhere across the battlefield, and for a moment, he doesn’t want to get up. His heart is beating loud in his ears, again and again and again, and his magic is exhausted, and his entire body hurts. He’s half waiting for one of his friends to come and bother him into getting up, half considering just sinking into the grass and lying there forever.
In the grand scheme of things, remembering suddenly that it’s New Year’s Eve is a pretty stupid reason for Br’aad to finally find the strength to pull himself to his feet and begin stumbling around in search of his friends, but if it works, it works.
It’s dark out, almost midnight, or maybe past it, and it doesn’t make the search easy. Br’aad is slow-moving, shivering lightly, squinting in the dark, and he feels almost ready to lie down again when he spots familiar curled horns and short, wispy hair kneeling down in the distance.
“Velrisa,” Br’aad tries, and it comes out as a hoarse whisper. He clears his throat, swallows, tries again. “Velrisa!”
Velrisa looks up, gold meets green as their gazes cross, and Br’aad is using the last of his strength to run towards her in one burst, falling into her arms as his legs give out again. She catches him, and holds on tight, and they kneel together, and Br’aad realizes he’s never really hugged Velrisa before but this might be the best hug he’s ever had in his life.
“Hey, Br’aad,” drifts up from the ground next to them, and Br’aad blinks and pulls back and realizes he hadn’t at all noticed the figure Velrisa was kneeling next to, which is one Mountain Stormbraid, nearly stained all red with cuts and slashes but alive and conscious and grinning with the same lopsided, somewhat battle-crazed grin he always wears after defeating a powerful enemy.
“Mountain,” Br’aad returns, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, because here Mountain is looking like he’s been through every circle of hell one by one, but he’s alive. He wants to hug Mountain too, but settles for helping Velrisa wrap his skin in bandages, amidst a silent understanding that Velrisa’s magical energy has all but left her entirely. Br’aad feels about the same. He doesn’t think he could so much as illusion his eyes a different colour if he tried.
It’s only when they finish, and gradually pull Mountain to a sitting position, that Br’aad registers the absence of two of their team members. He’s about to ask about it, or suggest they go search, or maybe just fruitlessly call out his brother’s or Taxi’s name, when he hears from behind him a small, short, “You guys?”
Br’aad nearly jumps out of his skin, and then he’s turning around faster than he’s ever turned before and hugging his brother more tightly than he’s ever hugged him before. Well, maybe that second part’s a lie. But he’s damn near digging his fingers into Sylnan’s back, face buried in his shoulder, for the longest moment that he’s ever lived through. Sylnan is safe, alive, and Br’aad can feel his heartbeat underneath his fingers. They both made it out this time.
Neither of them bother saying anything. No I’m glad you’re alive, no reminders of the times where things went worse. None of that needs to be said. There’s no way they could possibly forget it.
Slowly, Velrisa and Mountain find their way into the hug, and Br’aad feels something in his chest loosen, some knot untie. He lets himself relax, just a bit, in the comforting pressure of his friends surrounding him. But not all his friends.
“Guys,” Br’aad starts, and it comes out still a bit scratchy, muffled in the fabric of Sylnan’s shirt. He raises his head just a little. “Where’s Taxi?”
They pull back from each other, not far, Sylnan’s arm staying tight around Br’aad’s shoulders. Velrisa is the first to shake her head, eyes bright with concern as she says, “I haven’t seen him.”
Mountain just shakes his head along with her, and Sylnan sighs quietly. Again, something that needs no words. If any of them had seen Taxi, Taxi would be with them. The thing in Br’aad’s chest tightens again - in the midst of seeing his friends alive and alright, he’d almost managed to forget that things could still go wrong.
Br’aad looks at Sylnan, who looks back, and they stand up as one. Mountain seems to get the gist and begins to struggle to his feet, half lifted by Velrisa.
Sylnan raises an eyebrow at Mountain. “Are you sure you should be standing up?”
Mountain makes a muffled noise in his throat like an attempt at a scoff. “If you guys are going, I’m going.”
And so they go.
Half-walking, half-staggering across the remains of the battlefield, slow-paced with their arms around each other as support, the Fated search for their missing member. Even with his ability to somewhat see in the dark, Br’aad’s still struggling to make things out, looking up to the sky for light and finding only a gentle sliver of a waxing crescent moon. Time ticks on and on as they cross the rolling hills, silent as they search. Neither Br’aad nor anyone else has the energy to call out Taxi’s name.
Velrisa’s near-silent intake of breath next to Br’aad is, for a moment, the only sign that anything has changed. And then she straightens. And then she stops walking. And then she murmurs, “Look.”
A hill away, standing straight with a broken staff in hand, stands a tall, alert, furry shadow, head turning as though it’s scanning for something. Br’aad watches, heart rising with hope, as the shadow notices them. And then pauses for a second. And then runs.
They meet somewhat in the middle, Taxi crashing into all four of them at once, and they half tumble and half sink back down to the grass amid Taxi’s soft laughter. Br’aad can see him clearer now, and his shawl is torn, and there’s a rough half-healed slash across his eye. But he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Taxi quite as happy as he is in this moment. And somehow, it’s infectious.
They hug, somewhat properly, all clumsy, all injured. There are no more greetings, no questions of the events of the battle. No one quite seems to know what to say. Br’aad ends up with one of Taxi’s arms around his waist, seeking his warmth, and they lean into each other.
And then something occurs to Br’aad. “Hey, wait. Is it New Year’s yet?”
There’s a chorus of laughter from Mountain, Sylnan, and Velrisa, the kind of laugh that means oh, I forgot about that, but also something like that’s what you’re thinking about right now? Br’aad laughs along with them. It’s funny, again, that that’s what he’s dwelling on, but maybe he has more right to be dwelling on it now.
They’re all alive. They’re all together. Maybe Br’aad finally has time to think about something as frivolous and ordinary as New Year’s Day.
But Taxi doesn’t laugh, only shakes his head with a pondering look in his eyes. “I don’t think so. I would have heard the bells.”
Br’aad doesn’t get what he means at first, but Velrisa nods along with him. “I think you’re right.”
Right. They’re not far right now from a town, one that has a clock tower that tolls every hour, and Taxi and Velrisa have better hearing than possibly anyone in the world. But it’s quiet now, the only sound a gentle whistling wing rustling the grass around them, and it occurs to Br’aad that maybe they could hear it from where they are.
Some New Year’s party.
As though he could hear Br’aad’s thoughts, Mountain meets Br’aad’s eyes, grin as smug as ever, light with humour. “So how’s your party turning out, Br’aad?”
“Better than yours,” Br’aad returns, gesturing at their surroundings with his free hand. “You said we’d get eaten. Pretty sure we’re not in a dragon-turtle’s stomach right now.”
“Yeah, well.” Mountain manages half a shrug. “You win some, you lose some.”
“Well, we’re all here, aren’t we?” Taxi says. “This can be our party. We can just say that. We’re having a party right now.”
Br’aad almost expects there to be some pushback, some lighthearted jab at Taxi making fun of how lackluster a party like this would be. But no one disagrees. Mountain just nods, pulling out his neverending flask and taking a long swig. “Sure. It’s a party.”
“So what do we do?” Sylnan asks from where he’s half-lying on the grass. “Anyone have any New Year’s traditions that we can… actually do? Preferably without moving?”
“Well-”
Sylnan cuts Mountain off with a nudge of his foot. “Besides drinking.”
“I got nothing.”
Everyone’s silent for a moment, and Br’aad actually starts thinking, mind jumping back to all the previous New Year’s Eves that he can remember. Which isn’t many. In fact, as far as he can remember, most of them kind of sucked. He remembers, most recently, being alone in an unfamiliar place without Sylnan, full of guilt at leaving his brother at home on his own. Before that, years of shutting himself in the factory because of how chaotic the city got when people celebrated. Before that…
“You guys know something?” Br’aad said into the silence.
Four pairs of eyes looked at him. The four people Br’aad loved most in the world, traumatized and bleeding and alone together in the cold, were with him, safe. Listening.
“I think this is the best New Year’s Eve I’ve ever had.”
There’s a pause.
“Really?” Mountain asks. “This one? Kicking a dragon-turtle's ass really was your idea of a good New Year’s Eve?”
“Br’aad’s right,” Sylnan jumps in. “You’ve never had to see a Wharf New Year’s. I’d take the dragon-turtle any day.”
“That bad, huh?”
Br’aad and Sylnan nod in unison. Br’aad finds himself grinning.
“I like this one too,” Taxi says. “This is my favourite group of people I’ve celebrated with, anyway.”
Br’aad hums a sort of aww sound. Mountain makes one of his stop-being-so-sappy faces at Taxi. Taxi rolls his eyes at Mountain.
“What about you, Vel?” Sylnan asks. “Having fun?”
“I don’t know if I’d call it fun,” Velrisa says with a gentle smile. “But I do think this is my favourite New Year’s. We stopped the world from ending, didn’t we?”
Taxi nods. “We’re sort of the reason there is a New Year’s.” He pauses. “...Wow.”
Wow about sums it up, Br’aad thinks. Here, nestled in the grass, in Taxi’s side with his closest friends around him, it slowly begins to set in that they saved the world.
He’d been ignoring it for weeks, brushing it off with jokes and subject changes and fake plans for New Year’s parties. It was easier, kept the pressure off, kept the fear away, if they all pretended like saving the world wasn’t such a big deal. But the knot of stress in his chest is undoing once again, and as Br’aad relaxes, the truth sinks in, settling deep into his bones. The Fated had saved the world. They had done what they were destined to do. They’re sitting in the remains, in the wreckage, all still breathing, trading gentle jokes back and forth, still the same as though everything around them hadn’t kept changing and changing since the day they found out their destiny.
The Fated are alive. They’d saved the world. Br’aad loves them more than anything the newly saved world could ever offer him.
Gong.
The Fated all look up, as one, as the sound of a clock tower’s bell carries on the wind, across the rolling hills towards them.
Gong. Again. The eleventh ring.
Br’aad turns his gaze toward his teammates, his best friends, his family.
Ten.
It’s only when Br’aad’s gaze begins to blur slightly that he realizes he’d started crying.
Nine.
Br’aad wipes away the tears on his face with his free hand, then reaches for Sylnan. Sylnan reaches back.
Eight.
Sylnan’s hand slips into Velrisa’s, who leans into Mountain’s side. Mountain leans back.
Seven.
Velrisa looks up at the stars. Mountain looks away across the plains. Sylnan slowly shuts his eyes.
Six.
Br’aad looks up at Taxi.
Five.
Taxi is already looking back.
Four.
Br’aad sits, staring, and waits. For what, he isn’t sure.
Three.
He’s never been sure.
Two.
He could only ever love, and he feels so unbearably full of love, and he has no idea what to do with it.
One.
Taxi smiles, a smile that holds a million things at once, and ducks his head down, placing a gentle kiss on Br’aad’s forehead.
The world is, once again, silent. The world, somehow, feels born again.
“Happy New Year, Br’aad.”
Maybe Br’aad feels that way, too.
“Happy New Year, Taxi.”