starboob
lover / leaver
In the heralding year of 1989 Willow James decided to save love.
She liked to believe that she was an ordinary girl. She had few ambitions and moderate goals. Nothing exciting ever happened to her and she was fine with that. She grew up leaping with the frogs, running with the wolves, and buzzing with the bees. She practiced her magic, got good grades, and kept a moderate social life. She dated, had her heart broken, and fell in love again––despite knowing that all of those relationships had been with no strings attached (literally). She loved her life––it wasn’t perfect, but really what was? Wasn’t life all about falling in love with all the little imperfections because that’s what makes it so special? She liked to think so and she was perfectly happy with that. Really, she was.
Well, no.
There was this secret part of Willow––that she shared only with her diary, Phil, and the letters to her future love––that desired to be more than just ordinary. More than extraordinary, even. She wanted to become legendary.
The problem with that? The tree that tapped against her window scared her every night. She squeaked whenever the toaster surprised her––she swore it knew when her guard was down. And the most exciting thing to ever happen to her? Probably the time Meredith, her high school best friend, “abducted” her on a typical Tuesday night (a school night!!) to sneak into the carnival. (Her heart was beating so fast climbing over the chainlink fence and she swore up and down that they were going to get caught, arrested, and she’d never go to college or escape that small town.)
There was just no way for this Willow James to ever become legendary––at least not like the heroes in her books. So even while she desired to become a legend, she also knew that might not be in her cards in any capacity and while she was disappointed to know that, it was fine. Really, it was!
The only thing she could never ever give up on? Finding her one true love, the love of her life, her end and beginning, her Achilles heel. Ever since Willow James had been a little girl, she’d dreamed of her big, big love. She read countless books and magazines and watched as many movies as possible in preparation for the moment that she’d look up, lock eyes with her love, and just know. She didn't know when or how it would happen, but she knew it would. It had to, because everyone had their invisible string to follow. Everyone. Nothing in the world could sever it.
Or so she thought.
It started a few years ago with a case a few counties over. A fated couple who had met sometime in their youth, whose relationship was nowhere near picturesque, got into a fight, said things they could never take back, did things they could never undo, and their string just snapped. They hadn't seen their string since they first met, but in that moment it appeared between their chests and it was severed. When it happened, it was chalked up to an anomaly. Anything can happen, right? But then it happened again with another couple a few months later. Then again. And again. And again. Once is a coincidence, but twenty-two times? That was a pattern if Willow James ever saw one and she knew something had to be done.
So how did ordinary scaredy cat Willow James become the savior of love? Well, it’s kind of a funny story…
With one big heave, she pulls on her favorite burgundy adventurin’ boots, adjusts her dragon print wool socks, and sets her baseball cap determinedly on her head. For luck, she’s even wearing her favorite flannel (a gift from her high school bestie) and her great great great grandfather’s flight jacket from the war. She even has her dad’s colorblock hiking backpack that sits right beside her door––it’s stuffed to the brim (and that’s saying something for a pack that’s bottomless). Essentially, she’s packed everything except for the army. (Her only defense is that she truly doesn’t know when she’ll be back. She is hopeful she’ll be back before classes start again, because she definitely did not tell her thesis advisor that she is taking a leave, but she doesn't know for sure. Is this a bad idea?)
She cannot get into that debate. Not when she’s this close to embarking. She’s Willow James and she’s going to be the change she wishes to see in the world––
“H––“ she claps one hand over her mouth and the other clutches her chest.
‘Ho, ho, holy shit!’ She slowly opens her eyes and looks over to face that terrible pegasus panther scraping at her window! Oh. ‘Just the tree banging on the window. Nothing new. Come on, Willow. Sorceress up!’
She clenches her fist and takes three quick breaths, turns on her heel, and then grabs the bag. The entire time she shakes like a leaf, still spooked from the window knocking and also scared that with each step she takes, the more confident she becomes in this choice. Like, this isn’t a joke or a fantasy. This is real. She’s doing this. ‘I’m doing this. Holy crap.’
She takes one last look at herself in the mirror, smooths her hands over her blue-green flannel and tiptoes through the Rhode Island house. As she walks by each bedroom in the multi-family home, and she is deliberate in making sure that she stops by each one, she says a quick goodbye. “Goodbye, grandma Juniper,” she whispers, sliding a letter under the door. Then she moves onto the next room to repeat the process. “Goodbye, Leif. You still suck for stealing my piece of bread.”
And so it goes.
Once she has finished with her goodbyes, the sorceress glides through the living room and swipes her family’s sacrificial dagger from over the mantel, looping it through her belt. The dagger is a family heirloom said to be from the Other Side––back from the time when the two sides still interacted with one another. It technically belongs to her idiot brother, Leif, but he’s not using it for anything important. (She is deeply horrified that her brother, upon inheriting the relic, immediately went to ‘his guy’ and ‘totally tricked it out.’) I-it’s in better hands now, she knows that for sure. Before she can let the guilt of her theft consume her, she grabs her staff and slips out the door.
The morning air is crisp and it bites into her cheeks like apples. The grass around the property is wild and reaches her knees; it moves with the wind like the sea. She used to love hiding in the green waves when she was a kid, but there’s no time for silly business on this gray morning––she’s on a tight schedule if she wants to reach the checkpoint before noon. And she knows that if idles for even a second more, she'll turn right back around, shed her clothes from her body, and slip back under the covers, never to go on this important mission.
Without thinking on it any longer, she crosses the field between the house and the barn, throws the barn doors open, and beams upon seeing her sleeping twilight colored dragon, “Lucky, you better get up. I told you seven times already that we’re leaving at the buttcrack. No more snoozin,’ we have a big day and I don’t want to lose my nerve!”
Willow James likes to have a plan for everything. She even likes to have several back-up plans at her disposal. Most people––everyone––think that she over prepares and she kinda sees where they’re coming from. Packing twenty-seven toothbrushes probably is overkill––even if she had a particularly scarring experience trying to haggle in a dialect of elvish that she isn’t familiar with for a new one after dropping hers in the ducking toilet while on vacation. Still, it’s never really hurt her! It's under preparing that hurts and, apparently, there is one thing Willow James did not consider (and she really should have).
Getting lost.
While she is prepared for almost every type of known disaster (and even a few she made-up just in case), she did not prepare to get lost. And now she’s lost. Hopelessly lost at that. Usually, this wouldn’t be an issue. She has Lucky, her dragon, who could easily take her above the trees and fly her home! Except that… Lucky saw something fluffy, went to chase after it, and now she hasn't seen them for at least two hours. (It's worrying, for sure, and she's trying not to think about it.)
“Great,” she mutters, turning her map around and around as if that might help her pinpoint just exactly where she is in the woods. “I knew this was a bonkers idea… I should be working on my research,” she continues, still speaking under her breath, as she wanders around aimlessly. The woods used to be a place where she'd play and explore––as many kids do––but she's never been this far into it before and it's honestly giving her big haunted energy. Haunted energy that she is trying to ignore lest she curl up into a ball, cry, and bargain with the gods to take her home. To make matters even worse, there's a threatening rustle coming from her left and she's too scared to look. If she doesn't look, then it's not there and therefore not real. 'Don't look, don't look, don't look!'
Turns out, she doesn't need to worry about temptation when the totally scary monster bursts out of the bushes and flies right past her, flicker her with their tail as they passes by. Naturally, because she had been trying to not look, her eyes fly over in time to catch Lucky's blue and purple tail fin disappearing around the bend. "Ah, Lucky!" The sorceress taps her map with her staff, disappearing it back into her bag, as she breaks into run to chase after that unruly dragon of hers. 'Why couldn't you have stayed, like, a cat or something? You were so cute as an ocelot!' "Lucky! C'mon, get back here! This isn't funny and I think I actually want to go home! Don't make me use the whistle," the dragon whistle that only Lucky (and other dragon's) can hear. Lucky has informed her, not with words, that it is deeply annoying so she tries not to use it, but if they're going to be like this she won't ducking hesitate.
She rounds the bend just as the tip of her dragon's tail slips through the split in one of the willow trees. There's no time for Willow to process this properly––in her mind, she only needs to chase her dragon––so she completely misses the shimmery veil like substance under the archway of the split. She just runs straight through it and bursts out the Other Side.
"Ooof––" Her head knocks right into a thick surface with a concerning thunk! The impact briefly knocks out her vision and she completely disassociates when crashes right on top of something. Someone. The, um, firmness of the body under her tells her that. 'Shoot, shoot, shoot!' She blinks her green eyes open and hurriedly pushes herself up and rushes out an apology, "S-Sorry!" She also starts running away, not because she's awkward (she is), but because she needs to get her dragon! Obviously! (It has nothing to do with her deep deep need to literally escape from the fact that she just ran right into someone like an idiot. It's probably a good thing that she doesn't notice the thread connecting her chest to the other person's. If (when) she notices that, she'll be mortified.) "Just gotta catch my dra––" To future Willow's utter horror, she totally eats shit and turns her nose into a faucet.
She liked to believe that she was an ordinary girl. She had few ambitions and moderate goals. Nothing exciting ever happened to her and she was fine with that. She grew up leaping with the frogs, running with the wolves, and buzzing with the bees. She practiced her magic, got good grades, and kept a moderate social life. She dated, had her heart broken, and fell in love again––despite knowing that all of those relationships had been with no strings attached (literally). She loved her life––it wasn’t perfect, but really what was? Wasn’t life all about falling in love with all the little imperfections because that’s what makes it so special? She liked to think so and she was perfectly happy with that. Really, she was.
Well, no.
There was this secret part of Willow––that she shared only with her diary, Phil, and the letters to her future love––that desired to be more than just ordinary. More than extraordinary, even. She wanted to become legendary.
The problem with that? The tree that tapped against her window scared her every night. She squeaked whenever the toaster surprised her––she swore it knew when her guard was down. And the most exciting thing to ever happen to her? Probably the time Meredith, her high school best friend, “abducted” her on a typical Tuesday night (a school night!!) to sneak into the carnival. (Her heart was beating so fast climbing over the chainlink fence and she swore up and down that they were going to get caught, arrested, and she’d never go to college or escape that small town.)
There was just no way for this Willow James to ever become legendary––at least not like the heroes in her books. So even while she desired to become a legend, she also knew that might not be in her cards in any capacity and while she was disappointed to know that, it was fine. Really, it was!
The only thing she could never ever give up on? Finding her one true love, the love of her life, her end and beginning, her Achilles heel. Ever since Willow James had been a little girl, she’d dreamed of her big, big love. She read countless books and magazines and watched as many movies as possible in preparation for the moment that she’d look up, lock eyes with her love, and just know. She didn't know when or how it would happen, but she knew it would. It had to, because everyone had their invisible string to follow. Everyone. Nothing in the world could sever it.
Or so she thought.
It started a few years ago with a case a few counties over. A fated couple who had met sometime in their youth, whose relationship was nowhere near picturesque, got into a fight, said things they could never take back, did things they could never undo, and their string just snapped. They hadn't seen their string since they first met, but in that moment it appeared between their chests and it was severed. When it happened, it was chalked up to an anomaly. Anything can happen, right? But then it happened again with another couple a few months later. Then again. And again. And again. Once is a coincidence, but twenty-two times? That was a pattern if Willow James ever saw one and she knew something had to be done.
So how did ordinary scaredy cat Willow James become the savior of love? Well, it’s kind of a funny story…
***
With one big heave, she pulls on her favorite burgundy adventurin’ boots, adjusts her dragon print wool socks, and sets her baseball cap determinedly on her head. For luck, she’s even wearing her favorite flannel (a gift from her high school bestie) and her great great great grandfather’s flight jacket from the war. She even has her dad’s colorblock hiking backpack that sits right beside her door––it’s stuffed to the brim (and that’s saying something for a pack that’s bottomless). Essentially, she’s packed everything except for the army. (Her only defense is that she truly doesn’t know when she’ll be back. She is hopeful she’ll be back before classes start again, because she definitely did not tell her thesis advisor that she is taking a leave, but she doesn't know for sure. Is this a bad idea?)
She cannot get into that debate. Not when she’s this close to embarking. She’s Willow James and she’s going to be the change she wishes to see in the world––
“H––“ she claps one hand over her mouth and the other clutches her chest.
‘Ho, ho, holy shit!’ She slowly opens her eyes and looks over to face that terrible pegasus panther scraping at her window! Oh. ‘Just the tree banging on the window. Nothing new. Come on, Willow. Sorceress up!’
She clenches her fist and takes three quick breaths, turns on her heel, and then grabs the bag. The entire time she shakes like a leaf, still spooked from the window knocking and also scared that with each step she takes, the more confident she becomes in this choice. Like, this isn’t a joke or a fantasy. This is real. She’s doing this. ‘I’m doing this. Holy crap.’
She takes one last look at herself in the mirror, smooths her hands over her blue-green flannel and tiptoes through the Rhode Island house. As she walks by each bedroom in the multi-family home, and she is deliberate in making sure that she stops by each one, she says a quick goodbye. “Goodbye, grandma Juniper,” she whispers, sliding a letter under the door. Then she moves onto the next room to repeat the process. “Goodbye, Leif. You still suck for stealing my piece of bread.”
And so it goes.
Once she has finished with her goodbyes, the sorceress glides through the living room and swipes her family’s sacrificial dagger from over the mantel, looping it through her belt. The dagger is a family heirloom said to be from the Other Side––back from the time when the two sides still interacted with one another. It technically belongs to her idiot brother, Leif, but he’s not using it for anything important. (She is deeply horrified that her brother, upon inheriting the relic, immediately went to ‘his guy’ and ‘totally tricked it out.’) I-it’s in better hands now, she knows that for sure. Before she can let the guilt of her theft consume her, she grabs her staff and slips out the door.
The morning air is crisp and it bites into her cheeks like apples. The grass around the property is wild and reaches her knees; it moves with the wind like the sea. She used to love hiding in the green waves when she was a kid, but there’s no time for silly business on this gray morning––she’s on a tight schedule if she wants to reach the checkpoint before noon. And she knows that if idles for even a second more, she'll turn right back around, shed her clothes from her body, and slip back under the covers, never to go on this important mission.
Without thinking on it any longer, she crosses the field between the house and the barn, throws the barn doors open, and beams upon seeing her sleeping twilight colored dragon, “Lucky, you better get up. I told you seven times already that we’re leaving at the buttcrack. No more snoozin,’ we have a big day and I don’t want to lose my nerve!”
***
Willow James likes to have a plan for everything. She even likes to have several back-up plans at her disposal. Most people––everyone––think that she over prepares and she kinda sees where they’re coming from. Packing twenty-seven toothbrushes probably is overkill––even if she had a particularly scarring experience trying to haggle in a dialect of elvish that she isn’t familiar with for a new one after dropping hers in the ducking toilet while on vacation. Still, it’s never really hurt her! It's under preparing that hurts and, apparently, there is one thing Willow James did not consider (and she really should have).
Getting lost.
While she is prepared for almost every type of known disaster (and even a few she made-up just in case), she did not prepare to get lost. And now she’s lost. Hopelessly lost at that. Usually, this wouldn’t be an issue. She has Lucky, her dragon, who could easily take her above the trees and fly her home! Except that… Lucky saw something fluffy, went to chase after it, and now she hasn't seen them for at least two hours. (It's worrying, for sure, and she's trying not to think about it.)
“Great,” she mutters, turning her map around and around as if that might help her pinpoint just exactly where she is in the woods. “I knew this was a bonkers idea… I should be working on my research,” she continues, still speaking under her breath, as she wanders around aimlessly. The woods used to be a place where she'd play and explore––as many kids do––but she's never been this far into it before and it's honestly giving her big haunted energy. Haunted energy that she is trying to ignore lest she curl up into a ball, cry, and bargain with the gods to take her home. To make matters even worse, there's a threatening rustle coming from her left and she's too scared to look. If she doesn't look, then it's not there and therefore not real. 'Don't look, don't look, don't look!'
Turns out, she doesn't need to worry about temptation when the totally scary monster bursts out of the bushes and flies right past her, flicker her with their tail as they passes by. Naturally, because she had been trying to not look, her eyes fly over in time to catch Lucky's blue and purple tail fin disappearing around the bend. "Ah, Lucky!" The sorceress taps her map with her staff, disappearing it back into her bag, as she breaks into run to chase after that unruly dragon of hers. 'Why couldn't you have stayed, like, a cat or something? You were so cute as an ocelot!' "Lucky! C'mon, get back here! This isn't funny and I think I actually want to go home! Don't make me use the whistle," the dragon whistle that only Lucky (and other dragon's) can hear. Lucky has informed her, not with words, that it is deeply annoying so she tries not to use it, but if they're going to be like this she won't ducking hesitate.
She rounds the bend just as the tip of her dragon's tail slips through the split in one of the willow trees. There's no time for Willow to process this properly––in her mind, she only needs to chase her dragon––so she completely misses the shimmery veil like substance under the archway of the split. She just runs straight through it and bursts out the Other Side.
"Ooof––" Her head knocks right into a thick surface with a concerning thunk! The impact briefly knocks out her vision and she completely disassociates when crashes right on top of something. Someone. The, um, firmness of the body under her tells her that. 'Shoot, shoot, shoot!' She blinks her green eyes open and hurriedly pushes herself up and rushes out an apology, "S-Sorry!" She also starts running away, not because she's awkward (she is), but because she needs to get her dragon! Obviously! (It has nothing to do with her deep deep need to literally escape from the fact that she just ran right into someone like an idiot. It's probably a good thing that she doesn't notice the thread connecting her chest to the other person's. If (when) she notices that, she'll be mortified.) "Just gotta catch my dra––" To future Willow's utter horror, she totally eats shit and turns her nose into a faucet.
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