Archive of Our Own

It felt like there was fire under her skin, as Ivory felt the ash rise into her eyes, obscuring her view as she stumbled over cobblestone and snow and grass and ash, thick and dark and clouding her vision, and it was going to drown her, before she even made it back to see her family die.

Not her family. Not by blood, not that they’d ever really liked her, except they did. They must. This would be for nothing, if they hadn’t.

Her family. Hers.

And she’d run away, as they died.

No. Not dead yet. Just like she wasn’t dead yet, not quite yet. Not dead, not until everyone she loved was dead.

So, soon.

It hurt. God, it hurt, it hurt, and she wasn’t done. She might, might, might, still be able to save them. She had to. If she didn’t, she’d be dead, and everything she’d survived, built, learned would have been for nothing. It would all have meant nothing. It would have been useless, and it couldn’t be, because she’d worked so, so hard.

No. No, she wouldn’t let them die. This was her one stand, in a world she’d always tried to slip through unnoticed. She had to do this, to prove to herself that anything she did mattered.

The ash was in her throat, but not in the wood, as she stumbled to the door, and knocked on it, fiercely, until her arms nearly gave out. Her legs were going. She hadn’t known she could run that far, that fast. It made her believe Serapter a little more, the idea that he really could fight, if he was forced to.

Serapter. She had to see Serapter again.

More knocking. More waiting. Maybe they were choking on the smoke and ash too, maybe her family were just on the other side of this door, and Ivory would never be able to fight through their corpses for enough space to fall to her knees and scream her pleas for forgiveness.

Of course, it was Clown, who Ivory’s teary, smoke-filled eyes found, the one she nearly fell onto, as her body nearly gave out in sheer relief.

“Ivory? Wh-“

“Fire. N- now, s- s- soon, please, K- Kantje-“

“Fire? Where?”

No questions. Ivory loved Clown. He believed her, without a word, he made sense, in a world that so rarely did. He did things right, and things needed to be done, right now.

“K- kit- kitchen. G- gas- gas stove, he- he left it on, the- the boiler- its broken again-“

“Stay here.”

No. No, she couldn’t. Ivory tried to say as much, but her protest died in her throat alongside the embers flickering out as they ran through the last of her oxygen. Clown was already moving, leaving, yelling, and she needed to help.

“Ash! Get everyone out, now! There’s going to be a fire!”

How fast had she run? How long had she had? How much of her little, precious time with her family had she burned through, how much had she wasted fearing them, upsetting them, lying to them?

Should she have told someone about the boiler, before she left? She hadn’t thought, she’d just run, after Kantje, after the stupid, foolish, childish curiosity that would get her killed, or worse. Render her alone again.

She just hadn’t wanted to be alone. Something had told her, one of those stupid instincts, that Kantje was out to hurt the people she loved. So she’d chased him down, run faster than she thought was possible, not pausing for a moment to think to warn the people she was trying to save of what she’d already known she’d done.

Maybe it was better like this. Maybe if she’d given warning, broken down panicking like she always did, it would have wasted time. Maybe this way, Clown could still save them.

She should be in there, saving them.

Ivory found her hand on the doorframe, palm catching on old splinters and breath on heavy gasps, purging the smoke from her lungs the longer she managed to breathe fresh air. Fresh air. Maybe she’d done it, finally made a difference. Finally done something, something real, something no one could take away from her. Something good.

Maddy was in her face, before she could pull herself together, tugging herself out of a sudden crowd to grab Ivory.

“Ivory? You need to go, Ash is telling us to evacuate, are you okay?”

“I- I- I’m okay. I need to- sorry.”

The world lurching around her, Ivory staggered forward, out of Maddy’s prying hands, into the house, which suddenly didn’t seem so clear. The smoke wasn’t just in her head, now. The heat might still be, that was burning inside her, eating away under her skin and destroying the only place she’d almost felt safe, deep inside herself.

But there was smoke. And people she still needed to help, to prove her love, to prove she was a good person. She needed, to do more.

She needed to save Pyro. Pyro, who’d been so kind to her, even when Mysty had been better. Poor, innocent Mysty, and now Pyro, who had never deserved to suffer. He was the only one who knew her secret, the one she’d created and divulged the same day. She couldn’t let that die with him.

It took a few tries, to find her voice, but it tore out of her, broken and breaking, and if this was the least thing Ivory did, she’d pour every missed opportunity of her life into making it worth it.

“Pyro! V- Vi! S- Sirs! Please!”

“Ivory?”

Not Clown. Vi, Vi, who never hesitated to touch. To hold her. To make her feel safe. Like she was human.

Vi, grabbing her arms, and Ivory felt like a wild animal, that rabbit in her poem, beat, beat, beat under her skin, beating on the walls of her cage in a desperate bid to get out.

“F- f- fire, Sir, I- I need- Pyro-“

“Pyro’s coming. Clown came, he- told us you knew what had happened. We need to go.”

“B- but-“

“I know fire. Trust me. I- I’ve started enough, and it’ll spread quickly, this place is old. Too old, l- like Dad.”

“Is- is Mr Zombie-“

“No.”

Ivory hadn’t realised she was trying to get away from Vi. Vi, who was now struggling to hold her in place, pinning her arms to her side like she’d gone insane, stopping her from charging into the hallways smoke was beginning off drift over the floorboards of.

“P- please, Sir, I-“

“Ivory-“

Vi couldn’t hold her. Grief, it turned out, was a more powerful force than any Ivory thought she could know. Preemptive grief, the guilt of letting those she loved die already eating through her like fire.

Her feet hit thick carpets, and the smoke was getting stronger, and Ivory wasn’t sure if she was meant to survive this. It was still survivable, but it might not be, further in. Her body might begin to give out, the silk they’d wrapped her in coming undone alongside her purpose.

She had to survive this. For Pyro, who might need her, for Zam, to which she could repay a small kindness that would always eat at her, for all of them who had the decency to treat her like someone.

Ivory ran, a hand over her face, her apron pulled clumsily up to keep out the smoke that felt like it was coming from inside her lungs. She ran, not for her life, but for someone else’s. She ran until she couldn’t see, until the smoke was everywhere, and Vi had been right. The walls in here were old. Too old to stand this.

She ran until she hit a warm body, and heard Pyro gasp.

“M-“

“Ivory. It- it’s Ivory, s- s- sir, and- and I need to-“

Words were too hard. Ivory felt herself start coughing, before she got halfway, and made a grab for Pyro’s hand instead. Respect meant nothing, if it kept her bubble safe as rafters came crashing down onto both of their skulls.

Her gripped her back, an iron hold that made her shiver, before she remembered who it was. Pyro. Just Pyro, who needed her to be his eyes. Especially now, when his damaged sight must be failing him more than ever.

“Th- this-“

“I’ve got you. Please, l- lead the way.”

Pyro descended into a fit of coughing, but his feet moved when Ivory hauled, her own toes scuffing on smouldering carpets, and shoulders aching with the need, above almost all else, to rest.

Almost all else. Her masters still topped her priorities, her love winning out over her self. It was an easy trade. Ivory’s eyes burned, as she navigated the same halls she’d paced like a spectre, leading the man she served in the stead of an innocent, dead girl through his childhood home.

The hilarity was almost palpable. Ivory was busy crying, tears streaming down soot-stained cheeks, trying to tell inferno from daylight. There was sound, and there was heat, and there were pinpricks on her shoulders, and she wondered if she was burning alive.

She’d been burning alive, for weeks. Feeling like she was being burnt at the stake, then burning of humiliation, following her like a trail of gunpowder, a ticking time bomb everyone was waiting to explode. A little more wouldn’t be much to suffer. Not if it saved Pyro.

The cracking gave out to noise, gave out to voices, and Ivory gasped in relief, finally allowing her eyes to close, to shut out the fires of hell she’d dragged Pyro out of, and again, she faltered. Again, she fell into someone’s arms, but they were familiar, torn silk gloves and a soft, fast voice.

“Ivory. Ivory, I- I told you to stay. Pyroscythe, are you-“

“I- I’m ok. Thanks to her.”

“…Alright, then. Out. Now.”

Clown seemed reluctant to let go of her hands. Ivory couldn’t bring herself to look, the burning in her eyes bad enough already, but the reluctance turned out to sway him away from the hellfire closing in on them.

Clown accompanied her outside, now the blind leading the blind, as Pyro held her other hand with his warm, steady grip. Ivory stumbled, and tripped, and they both held her, until she tried to pull away, biting back a scream. She didn’t want to be held. She wanted to save more of them, to see what of her family was left to save.

But that was no longer an option. Her burnt shoes crunched on the gravel drive, through the snow that had just been beginning to settle, through what was meant to be the cold, calm, banal part of the year.

It was broken by ash, and shouts, and loud, and Ivory’s head spun. She’d say she felt faint, apart from the fact that she wasn’t actively fainting, but she sure would like to.

“I can take her.”

“Are- you sure?”

“Yes. You go find your family, Pyroscythe.”

She wanted to see them. The Hemlockes, the bane and purpose of her existence, Ivory had been trying to save them. Them, and her friends, but she could hear them. Div yelling, Maddy talking fast, faster, Serapter-

Serapter.

“S- Serapter. P- please, I- I need-“

Clown got it. He understood, and Ivory would have cried, if she hadn’t been crying already. His grip tightened around her shoulders, and he lead her, wordless, to where Serapter was yelling nearly loud enough to rival the crowd and the sirens.

“Serapter. Here.”

“Oh my god- Ivory!”

It was so nice she liked her name. Ivory smiled, vaguely, and her eyes burnt worse and different for it, but adrenaline was making her dizzy. It was nice she’d found one she actually liked.

It was even nicer, when Serapter hit her neck, then her chest, then was hugging her so tight it would have hurt to breathe, if it hadn’t hurt to exist. Her eyes hurt, stinging worse than Ivory could imagine them ever feeling as fresh tears bloomed, and for once, she didn’t fear the mark she’d leave on her best friend, hugging him back with sooty hands and flushed cheeks.

“You’re alive.”

Serapter could always say what she couldn’t.

Except- it wasn’t that she was alive. It was that she’d kept them alive. Ivory’s survival had been absolute, and she’d needed to pay it back by saving them, and she had, and it was happy, happy, happy, bearing in her chest as the animal inside her settled, and Clown gave a soft murmur that didn’t hurt to hear.

“You two are going in the ambulance with Lopezz. Everyone’s out, Ivory.”

Everyone was out. Ivory sobbed, in relief, falling onto Serapter more than she already had. They were staying together. Forever. Until she found it in herself to open her eyes again, which might be never.

She was still clinging to Serapter, when Clown pushed them both gently into the back of an ambulance, and disappeared. He probably had better things to do. Ivory still made a small noise, not quite a whimper, but not far off, but she should know better. She couldn’t demand Clown’s presence, anymore than she could beg to see Bit, or Zam, or Muu, just to know that they were alive.

Clown had said everyone was alive. She could trust Clown.

Ivory didn’t trust the cool hand that pressed against her forehead, the cooing voice asking her if she felt lucid.

“She’s tired. Can’t you let her rest?”

Serapter sounded tired. Ivory tugged at his sleeve, slumped over in the back of the ambulance they were sitting side by side in, pleading with him to rest. She just needed a moment, and she’d pull herself together, and she’d be able to hadn’t this for both of them. Serapter needed rest. She’d be okay, if she just… took a moment.

“As soon as we’ve done an assessment. Can she speak?”

“I- I- I can-“

“Can’t she- she sleep first?” Serapter’s voice cracked, pleading, and Ivory wished she could bring herself to open her eyes, to see if he was hurt at all. He was protecting her so well. “You can talk to me. I’m okay.”

“Thank you, sir, and we’ll get to you-“

“D- don’t call him sir. We’re- we- we’re not-“

Ivory gave up, sobbing again, because it was dawning on her that she couldn’t open her eyes. That was the price she paid, then. That was what it cost, to save the people she loved. She was still willing to pay it, but it hurt, and she didn’t know why she’d even tried to speak.

“Miss, then? Can you open your eyes for me?”

Shaking her head hard enough for it to spin, the vague idea of screaming rose up in her throat. She wouldn’t, she shouldn’t, but some part of her wanted to. Maybe screaming would make someone come save her.

Maybe screaming would mean someone would notice the fire, still burning under her skin. Maybe Kantje would hear her, however far away he was, and know that he hadn’t done anything, she was still alive, and so was everyone, but she would never, never forgive him.

It was big, scary thoughts, and Ivory collapsed into soft tears, instead. No one needed to hear her. She’d done her part, she’d saved them as best she could, she could crumple back into quiet avoidance, now.

“Can I get eye drops, over here? Sir, do you know if she wears contacts?”

“I don’t think so. Ivory- Ivory, are you ok?”

No, no, no she wasn’t. She wanted Kantje here, to punch him. So he’d know how much pain she was in. So the others would know what she’d saved them from, that she wasn’t crying wolf, that she hadn’t just gotten lucky. She wanted to relax, to be happy with what she’d done, but she couldn’t.

“They’re just getting something for your eyes.” Serapter’s voice was closer, quieter, more worried. His hand ran through her hair, probably charred and stained beyond recovery. “Everyone made it out. I can see- the doorway, it- it fell down a minute ago, but Clown was the last one out, and he wouldn’t have- I can see everyone. I- I think.”

So Clown had been allowed to go back in. After telling her she wasn’t. Ivory wanted to scream at him, too, but it would do even less than screaming at Kantje, who she’d probably never see again. Clown had always had the air of being likely to either slap her, or tell her to go take a nap, if ever she broke down on him. It would be for nothing, because Ivory knew he wouldn’t care to see why the double standard felt like the embers inside her being crushed into her throat.

The fire was still coming from inside her. She must have started it, after all, no one would have had to go through any of this if she hadn’t come running back. Kantje might have lied, the shock of her arrival might have sparked the blaze. It could be her fault, because she brought flame and ruin, wherever she went running for shelter.

Ivory flinched away from a hand holding her face still, and Serapter caught her by the shoulders, holding her firmly in place. Even as she started thrashing, trying to get out, he held on, and it took moments for her to calm back down, to go limp in Serapter’s hands.

“Its ok. Not going to hurt you. Everyone’s safe, and so are you. Just... a second, Ivory, please.”

She calmed down. Serapter sounded like he was on the verge of tears. Ivory wouldn’t be the one to make him cry, not she she’d brought so much chaos to the house already.

Serapter was the only reason she held completely still, frozen in place like a rusted doll, as something cold hit her eyelid, worming its way into her eyes like liquid ice, and the worker offered some meaningless, cooing reassurance.

It didn’t hurt. But it did make her want to start crying again, as they did the other one, and Ivory imagined a world where she’d never be able to open them again. If she’d done all this, and it didn’t even save her.

“That’s all, Miss. Someone will need to look at you again, when you’re ready, but- we have a lot to do.”

She shouldn’t hold them up. Ivory nodded, tears streaming out of where the eye drops were cold and almost soothing, and heard them get up. Heard them walk away. Heard Serapter sigh, and heard Pyro’s voice, somewhere nearer than he should be to two servants who meant nothing.

She didn’t hear what was said. Room number something. God, everyone was going to need to stay somewhere. Did they know, that it might be dangerous, just to be near her? She was a killer, after all, a walking firestorm that came from who-knew-where.

Ivory hoped they knew better, than to let her put them all in danger again.

———————

Waking came, and so did darkness.

Ivory couldn’t remember what she’d been dreaming of, but it hadn’t been happy. Stone, and snow, and cold wind, whistling through unburned hair. It might have been one of those dreams where she was falling.

Whatever it was, when consciousness crept back in like the abashed tide returning to the steadfast shore, her world seemed to get darker.

Thankfully, she could hear herself screaming.

Quick enough, at least, to cut it off. The Hemlockes wouldn’t appreciate being woken by a silly girl’s morning shrieks. Nor would Serapter, who was probably trying to get some rest, after…

After the smoke. After the fire that had burned into and out of her skin. After the noise, and the hands, and the questions, and the heat, and the yelling. The screaming.

Ivory screamed again, when someone grabbed her hand.

“You’re awake.”

Serapter. He was alive. That much hadn’t been a dream, at least, and Ivory sobbed, clinging to him like he was her whole world. In that moment, he was. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t fucking see, but Serpater was here to ground her in a dark, dark world.

“Hey- hey, Ivory, it’s okay. You’re okay, they said- they said your eyes would be alright. Just a- a few weeks, at most, so they can heal. And there’s other people who want to see you, its not just me, everyone’s still alive.”

Everyone was still alive.

“E- everyone?”

“Yeah. Everyone. Except- Kantje, no one’s found… no one’s found him.”

“He- he’s alive.” Ivory sniffed, wondering. Had Clown not told the others? “S- somewhere.”

It was so scary, not being able to see. She hoped Serapter didn’t need his hand back, because she was clinging to it like a stuffed animal she might have once had.

And Clown had kept her secret. Even now, when she couldn’t see far enough to wonder if people were still staring at her, no one seemed to know the exacts of what she’d done. Some part of her wondered if Clown had written her out, entirely. Another knew he wouldn’t have. He’d just have talked around that part, absolved her and Kantje of any betrayal.

She needed to see Clown. And Pyro, a surfacing thought, followed swiftly by his youngest brother. Not that she could demand so many of the Hemlockes, not that they were probably even in the same place. She and Serapter might be somewhere on the streets, in a hostel, where they’d been discarded.

“Ser- Serapter…” Ivory felt her voice draw thin, scratching in her throat. “Wh- where are we?”

“The hospital. With everyone else. Should… I get someone?”

Quickly, Ivory shook her head. No need to intrude on anyone. She should be happy with her part played.

“Pyro?”

“N- no, no, S- Serapter- he- he’ll be busy-“

It was insane, that she was even considering it. That wasn’t possible. Pyro had no reason to want to see her, and Ivory had Serapter, and there was nothing possibly more that she could ever want and hope to get.

“Pyro, then. I- think he’s just down the hall. Almost everyone’s almost entirely fine.”

“A- almost?”

“You, Ivory. You’re the one a lot of people are still here for.”

“…oh.”

——————

“So… how does it feel?”

Pyro’s laugh was soft, and familiar, and coaxed a chuckle out of Serapter, too, quieter from where he was sitting across the room with Zam.

“H- how does what?”

“Being blind.”

Ivory smiled herself, hands moving reflexively over the bedsheets. She’d spent the past few hours mapping out every bit of her space she could feel, as she spoke first with just Pyro, then Zam, swinging by without a scratch on him, and finally Vi, who’d announced his presence and not said much else, aside from his hand never leaving Ivory’s hair.

“Not- not very good. Sir. Sorry.”

“No sir. No sorry. It does suck.” Pyro sighed, finding her hand, and adjusting the sheets for her. “But it’s temporary. Trust me, I checked with every doctor I could find. They all say you’ll be absolutely fine.”

“A- and- I was the worst, wasn’t I? No- no one else… got hurt?”

“No one else. Not as bad as you.”

“…okay. That- that’s good.”

“It’s still bad for you, Ivory. It’s- yes, I- I’m happy no one else got hurt, but…”

“N- nor did I.” Ivory’s fingers wrapped around Pyro’s, finding his scars and jewellery marks and shaking nerve fibres. “It- it doesn’t matter, sir. Not as long as- as everyone else is okay.”

“…god, Ivory, you- do you know what you did? You saved- twenty lives, at least, probably more, and…”

“She’s your angel?”

Zam’s voice was drawling and mocking, with a sharp lick of honesty that made it almost sweet. Pyro sighed, heavy, in a way that suggested it wasn’t the word’s first appearance.

“An angel. You’re an angel, Ivory.”

An angel with singed hair, that caught under Vi’s practised hands. She had three of them, here with her, and Ivory felt like the centre of the world in the most nauseating way. So much attention, heaped on her, undeservingly.

It was quiet, for a few, long moments. Ivory was fearing the moment she was left entirely alone, blind and senseless. Because it hadn’t happened yet. From the moment she’d woken up, someone had been there to hold her hand, to be Serapter lying across her legs and reading a book to her, to be Vi’s work-steadied fingers combing around where her scalp was the most sensitive.

Zam started talking again, something vaguely flirtatious about Serapter having a little more time on his hands. Ivory heard Vi laugh, softly, and knew why he wasn’t speaking. Family. Family, and people, and people Vi loved, but didn’t want to upset the balance of.

“Wh- what’s going to- to happen now?”

Her voice was thready, and it hurt a little, but she didn’t want Vi or Pyro to get bored.

“Well… Zolister might get my father arrested, when he’s out of here. And, after that- I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

With a small sigh, Pyro turned their hands over, and ran the backs of his nails down from Ivory’s knuckles to her wrist. She shivered, feeling a little sick.

“Z- Zolister? But- he was- he was nice…”

“Yeah. He was. My father isn’t.”

“…oh. Okay.”

She was probably unemployed anyway. Mr Zombie would want someone to blame, and she had been the one to throw the chaos into action. Besides, there probably wasn’t much of a house to service anymore.

“We’ll take care of you. If he goes down, his money goes to us. Old bitch wouldn’t dare to associate with anyone else.”

That coaxed a huff of a laugh out of Vi, and the first words Ivory had heard from him, in that soft voice he used when something mattered.

“I’d want to donate it. But- to the servants. You guys deserve it.”

“I’m keeping mine! Buying a new house for when you losers end up on the streets from altruism.”

“I’d rather that than stay in ours another day.”

Pyro spoke so quietly he could hardly be heard, as Zam scoffed, and muttered something else about his siblings being too pure hearted for their own good.

They all made Ivory smile, in a way. A family. Not hers, but she’d earned some grace. Maybe they would take care of her, and Serapter, and everyone.

A knock, and Ivory flinched, clinging to Pyro like she was trying to cut off blood circulation to his fingers.

“Should just be Muu. Maybe Izzy, too, if she’s gotten away from the police.”

“P- p- police?”

“Yep. She volunteered when Zam said we should come see you.”

“Wh- what- why- why are they-“

“They won’t be talking to you. Don’t worry. No one needs to mention you, and I don’t think they’re going it.”

“I’d kill them.”

Pyro made a slightly alarmed noise, maybe because of the frankness in Vi’s voice, maybe because of the way his fingers traced where bandages looped around the back of Ivory’s head. Either way, his fright was curtailed by Serapter, enthusiastically pitching in from across the room.

“And me! I- I would kill them with you.”

“I’ll bear it in mind.”

Ivory giggled. She could feel Pyro’s horror, and maybe she did belong in this little family after all, if Vi scared his own brother more than her.

“Vi- we’ll just lie to the cops, there’s no need-“

“Oh, I will also be lying to them. You underestimate me, brother.”

Grinning, Ivory pushed upwards, nuzzling into Vi’s hand in supplement for words of admiration and gratitude. It was a movement she didn’t think hard enough about, and didn’t regret as much as she expected to.

“Are we lying to the police for fun?”

“Not for fun, Zam.” Pyro seemed to have gotten over himself, a smile interwoven with his words as he relaxed in Ivory’s hand. “For Ivory. Who’s done more than enough, without having to deal with that.”

“S- so-“ Ivory swallowed, nervousness swallowing her whole as soon as the endorphins dropped, leaving her feeling like she was falling. “So I- I didn’t do anything wrong?”

“God, no, Ivory, you- you saved everyone.”

“A- and- I’m n- not- dangerous? N- no one- thinks-“

“No. No one. We’re- proud of you. And a lot of people owe you their lives.”

Following Pyro’s lead, Ivory relaxed, slumping back against hospital bedsheets and nodding. There was a lump in her throat, and an itching in her palms. Pyro made it better.

“…oh my god, you guys are useless.” Zam stomped, as he got up, coming closer to them at a pace. “Muu? Anyone? Or do we hate our sisters now?”

“Shit, sorry. I- got distracted.”

“Yeah, like hell you did.”

“Thanks, Zam.” Vi sounded like he was grinning, and Ivory suspected, in a way, that he just hadn’t wanted to introduce more of his siblings to the room. “Saves us the effort.”

“Please. You’d like all of us to clear off so you can check her for heat damage.”

“You don’t know me, either, Zam.”

“I know enough. We all want to take care of her, so back the fuck off, inventor boy.”

——————

Ivory watched, glad for Clown’s unmistakable silhouette, as he took the few steps ahead of them to hand the papers over the desk.

She squeezed Serapter’s hand like she was trying to choke him, remembering to refocus her eyes, and not to rub them. They were still sensitive. But she’d done her penance, and she was allowed to leave, now.

The discharge forms had been hard. It had been so easy to forget, in the week of being doted on and never left alone, how she’d ended up with bandages over her eyes. Clown, dictating to her the reasons for her admission for her to approve, had nearly been enough to push her all the way back.

She’d done it, though. It was just Clown and Serapter with her, right now, because Pyro was making sure her new apartment was set up. Just a small one, which Serapter had described to her, for them to share. Near Redd’s store, where Clown and Ashswag had landed a room through unspecified means.

Everyone was finding somewhere to go. The Hemlockes, Ivory knew, would be leaving town. Some of them. They didn’t have any family to go to, and Pyro had been right, all of Mr Zombie’s money would go to them.

But that would take time, and before then, Muu had wanted to go to the beach. To paint water. And Izzy had wanted to start setting up the new initiatives she and Pyro would be pushing into the company.

The other three were staying. Zam refused to say anything except that he’d be socialising more than he had been under their father’s oppressive rule, but he’d also refused to admit that he wasn’t going to move away from his home. Vi had the apartment above Ivory and Serapter’s. Pyro had found himself rooms, and offices, and was working with the lawyers.

Everything… drifted. Ash on the wind, charred scraps of paper drifting back and forth and landing on her windowsill, only to turn out to be leaves from the neighbouring trees. It settled. Things would settle, again, and Ivory would be okay.

Serapter’s other hand held her arm, giving them another connection point, and Ivory just watched. They’d let her go, now. To restart her life all over again. To try again, try to finally get it right.

She had real hope, this time.

“Done.”

Clown was back beside her, his voice a lilting tone she hadn’t heard from him before. He was so different, outside the house. Everyone was, but especially him. It made Ivory wonder what had changed in her, what would spring back to how it had been and what had been permanently altered.

Whatever it was, it seemed to have done good. She’d done good. She’d helped people, really helped, and they loved her.

“Ready to go, Ivory?”

“…yes, Sir.”

“No need for that.” Clown’s laughter was a little like wind chimes, or maybe that was her own poeticisms. “Follow me.”

Ivory smiled. She’d use his name, again. But it was fun to poke a little, to needle at the rawness the fire had burnt into all of them.

“Still scares the shit out of me, too.” Serapter spoke in a mutter, guiding her forward, out into the watery winter sun. “At least we’re not the ones living with him.”

“P- poor Ash.”

They shared a small giggle, and Clown pretended not to notice them. Ivory watched him walk, and watched the world around her, marvelling at the neat, snowy squares and frozen fountains.

It was beautiful.

The world was beautiful, and she was glad it was winter. She needed something cool, to hiss against her embering soul. She wanted to match what remained of her hair to the sky outside her window, she wanted to see Serapter’s eyes in the gas lamps as they burned down.

Winter would be a good time for her. Winter would be happy.

“What’s the first thing you’re going to do? With their money?”

That was the other thing. No more fear. No more worries. Just Pyro telling her she didn’t need to worry about which of theirs it was, just that she and Serapter would have enough to live on, and more than enough addresses to write to if they tired of a simple life.

“…buy a violin.”

“A violin?”

Serapter sounded surprised. He should be. Ivory enjoyed it, nodding and smiling and soaking in the sensation of being alive.

“Yeah. I’d… like to learn.”

“Not a piano?”

She shook her head.

“Too expensive. I- I wouldn’t- I’d like to try something new.”

“They’ll let you buy whatever.” Serapter grinned, and glanced ahead, and dropped his voice. “I’m gonna try to buy a car.”

“A- a car, are you sure?”

“Absolutely. I don’t think Zam would even notice, and he’s letting me put things on his tab in town.”

“He’s- Serapter, what-?”

“Don’t-“ Serapter giggled, looked around again, and spoke like he was blushing. “He offered. What was I meant to do, say no? Vi’d do the same for you.”

Ivory stared for a moment, bewildered, then shook her head with the smallest laugh. It felt like exhaling ice, and it felt like just the thing to clear her lungs of smoke.

“I- I don’t think Vi’s getting much. It- it depends if Pyro remembers him.”

“You’ll remind him, won’t you?”

“A- a- about Vi?”

“Duh.”

“…oh. I- I can do that, I suppose.”

“You certainly can.” Clown turned around, walking sharply and easily backwards, as they approached a row of buildings. “You’re our princess, Ivory. And Pyro’s angel, if I’ve heard right.”

Ivory felt her cheeks flush. It was embarrassing. It was embarrassing, to be recognised, even when this was what she’d wanted. Especially by Clown.

“Th- thank you. Clown.”

That earned her a nod, and a glow of pride. She was an equal, in her own way. She’d proven her right to a place, here.

“Thank you, Ivory, I’d say.”

“Oh, I- I don’t think-“

“I do think. We all owe you a lot. The least you can do is let a few of us pay it back.”