Realistic or Modern ˗ˏˋ TRUST FALL. | ( *starboob & ellarose. )

[ellarose]

"Gah!" Valentine gasps, jerking to life as the spray of water hits her in the face, and tosses her head from side to side. Droplets cling to her eyelashes, wisps of unloosed hair from her ponytail cling to her face. Her brow furrows as she places her hands over her face, rubbing at it in confusion. The wet on her face isn't sticky or warm, there's no foul odor, nor is she submerged. She can breathe. That quells some of her panic, but not all of it. Without releasing her face, her eyes flutter open.

Staring at Miro through the gaps between Valentine's fingers are a pair of bright red eyes. She stares unseeingly at them. For now she's as far away as she can get from the town of Bellwick Springs, lost in a dream. The friend-shaped figure in front of her needs to know what's happening. They need to know, don't they? She should explain it to them.

"I was sewing these puppets. They started vomiting blood-- so much blood-- and I was drowning in it and--" Valentine blinks. Violet blooms in the center of her eyes as the blue in them slowly returns. Her gaze flicks right, then left. She exhales shakily and her hands fall into her lap. "...There was a giant spork."

Giant spork. When Valentine sees the spork in question lying a few yards away, it all comes flooding back in excruciating detail. Mabel. Miro's call for help. The club. The ketchup, the daisy abomination, the mind control, all the way up to the last thing she can remember-- her reflection in the spork. The red eyes staring back at her. Then the world went dark.

Valentine's gaze snaps back to Miro in an instant. They didn't leave. They're here. They saw all of it. Red eyes. Are they still...

"Don't look at-- don't look at me!" Valentine quickly whips her head to the side. Her hands are in front of her face again, this time to hide behind. "Don't look at me."

Why are they still here? Why aren't they totally freaked out? Valentine commanded the entire town to leave and they left. She nearly tore reality apart, time and space shuddered and changed all around them. They've been through a lot lately, a lot of weird shit, but still. Though she worries that Miro's remaining braincells may have taken a vacation... another possibility exists. She needs to check before this goes any further.

"What happened?" Valentine asks cautiously, trying not to sound as tired as she feels. "Are you still you? Say something only Miro would say."

 

[starboob]

"Is it weird that I've got a hankering for eggs and weenies, now?" Their stomach gurgles in agreement. "This magic business works up an appetite like no other, dude."

In spite of her request, Miro never once stops looking at Valentine Thorne. Her glowing red eyes don't bother them nor the display of her power earlier. For all the ways she might appear to be a normal girl, Miro Syke has never thought that of her. Aside from the fact that she probably derives genuine pleasure from organizing her sock drawer, the legends to her name outmatch the Greek and Roman myths combined.

This is a good thing in their beady, gold flecked eyes. Normal is boring.

"I think you broke the space-time continuum for a second," they shrug, relaying the series of prior events as cavalierly as one might describe a typical Tuesday night. Nothing can really phase them now that she's admitted to being able to break them like a toothpick. If she wanted, she could take them out at a moment's notice so why would they even care about the means or methods that she uses? "Pretty metal if you ask me."

They take the spot next to her under the tree and look down at their coated red lap and smeared red arms, then over to her, looking up and down at the splotches of ketchup where Miro had held her. Their cheeks brighten, eyes immediately locking forward. 'Maybe she won't notice…'

"Anyway, you also got, um, eaten by Daisy? Or she fell on you… I'm not really sure, but I totally saved you."

Sharona clucks indignantly.

"Don't listen to her. She set me up." Miro shoots the chicken a rare scowl. They pull their beanie off their head, stuffing it in their back pocket now that they know matchy-matchy means nothing to Sharona. (Her lower beak drops.) Their buzz cut is flattened at odd angles, pieces sticking up while others are pressed down. "The red glow is cool. It's like your Super Saiyan form, yeah?"

Miro tilts their chin up, staring at nothing in particular. The clouds roll by in the languid they do when there's no breeze chasing them. It's odd to think that only a few minutes ago, Bellwick had been threatened by a demonic egg. Such is life here, they suppose. They clasp their hands behind their head, more aware than usual of the bandages that keep their skin from touching. Maybe it's from the shine of Valentine's vulnerability that they notice them now, having mostly adapted to the permanent accessory at this point.

After another beat, they shift again, scratching at the bandage on their cheek. They play with the edge of it, until a decent portion has rolled up and peel it off with a deep inhale. Underneath, the gnarled angry scars looking more like fresh wounds, fresh as the night they got them, nearly blending in with the ketchup. It spreads like a fern over their left cheek. The deeper parts of the burn mark seem to pulse red, albeit faint and unnoticeable in the light of day. "It doesn't hurt," they say, turning so Valentine can see. "But I don't like people looking either. They look gross, too, so I'd rather keep 'em covered." Their eyes meet with Valentine's, finally. "I know it might not be the same, but I'm never going to look away from you. I want to see you, Valentine Thorne."

 

[ellarose]

Valentine might have done something stupid, like reach out and touch them, but she's a smart girl.

Their promises are as sweet and as temporary a comfort as a piece of chocolate that melts away in her mouth. She can give Miro the benefit of the doubt, she can let herself believe they'd earnestly try to keep it-- that if they see her, they'll remember and fight the urge to question and ultimately forget her existence as she fades from their photographs. The cold hard facts remain unmoved by such sentiments, they're unchangeable. Unless they stay.

Asking that of anyone is asking for too much. It'll never happen. Their city is too precious, their friends, the pursuit of their career in photography. That's why she won't ask. If she swayed anyone's choice to stay by making them pity her it'd sit in the back of her mind all the damn time, taunting her. That's exactly what happened with Garrett. It's the worst feeling in the world, knowing he stayed because he knows. Now all she can do is push him away.

"You're a beautiful fool, Syke." Valentine sighs, leaning back against the tree. She gives their wounds a long, meaningful look. She doesn't recoil, she wouldn't dare. She sees their gesture for the olive branch it is. It's only when their arms triple and quadruple that she has to tilt her head back and close her eyes. "Are you turned on by danger or something?"

Then again... what is Valentine doing if not pushing Miro away, too? Where is this road going to take her?

"...Or maybe you're smarter than anyone I know. I could break the world in half and you know I wouldn't hurt you."

She's so alone. So tired. Sharona clucks concernedly, curling up in her lap. It doesn't sound like the chicken's give a clucks are on vacation... she'll have to get the full story from her later.

"This is why I hate that silly twenty questions game." Valentine whispers, frustrated. "Being known is a curse." She waves her hand dismissively. The branch above her head creaks, following the motion of her movements. When her fingers curl inward, the branch coils back. Simmer down, missy. "Don't mind me. I'm feeling punchy. I need to go home." Though her intention is to teleport on out of there, she remains right where she is. She cracks her right eye open. "...And I'm still here. Lovely. Looks like I'm walking."

Valentine stands, sways, and ultimately sinks back down onto the ground where she was before. Her plans to run from the conversation have gone up in smoke, like many of her plans these days. "...I'm not walking, am I?" This is humiliating.

 

[starboob]

"You are not, nope. No, ma'am." Miro shakes their head, already standing. Though they would offer to give Valentine a hand — they'd even offer to prop her up or carry her — they are not so clueless that they can't figure out that she isn't in the mood for the usual camaraderie. Her posturing all but says, 'Leave me be.'

They busy their restless hands instead, clasping them behind their head, and peel their eyes from the local good witch, giving her some semblance of privacy, to look at the clouds. They kind of remind them of scrambled eggs.

"Danger's my middle name, you know. It comes right after trouble-maker." Their usual grin bleeds into their tone, but it fades towards the end. The doom and gloom coming off of Valentine like tidal waves tells them that she's not exactly in the mood to joke around. They kick at the ground with the toe of their shoe, feeling rather useless without their ordinary armor. "I think if you were going to hurt me, you have done it a while ago tbh."

Certainly not on the first night they met, but maybe when Hadeon took over and the angels were trying to smite them. (What had they called her? Cambion? What even is that?) That would have been her chance — it would have been the perfect excuse. Miro was out of control. Hadeon was going to kill her (or try to). But she hadn't seen the need to smite them then and she seems to be the only one who believes in them now. Every now and again they think about Garrett's offer and wonder if they're both in over their heads.

Then again, what do dads know?
Then again, what do cops know?

They shake away the thought. Hadeon might have brought them to Bellwick Springs, but something greater brought Miro to Valentine. They have to believe that. They have to believe they can beat this, the both of them.

"You're too much like Spider-Man. You know that with great power comes great responsibility, unlike some freaks living rent free in my mind." Decidedly, it turns out that they cannot drop their armor. It might be the last thread that holds them together. (That and the promise of ice cream on every horizon.) Miro sighs, then blows out a raspberry. "I don't know much about you, so no additional curses here."

It's difficult for them to suppress the wounded note in their tone. They've gone to every effort to get to know Valentine Thorne, their partner in not-crimes. While it's not lost on them that they are the one who has been forcing that dynamic, they are hurt that she feigns honesty behind half-hearted answers that satisfy them in the moment, and then leave them wondering later. It would be easier if she stuck to being the ice queen they saw through that first night, but she seems stuck between that and playing the role of the girl next door. Though they know they aren't entitled to knowing her, let alone her friendship, Miro Syke might be having a hard time reconciling that not everyone will fall for their undeniable and irresistible rizz.

They brush one palm over their fuzz, then stick both fists in their pockets as they look back down at Valentine. "C'mon. Let me walk you home." It's not so much an offer or a suggestion as it is a declaration. "I won't even play twenty questions — that, by the way, you reduced to five (5) — but I can tell you about me. The mortifying ordeal of being known is hardly a curse to me." Especially if it means they have a greater chance of knowing love and being loved; and that, at some point in their life, has become their ethos. "Like, there was this one time I almost set the police precinct on fire. It was an accident, by the way. Like, how was I supposed to know that cherry bombs could do that!"

 

[ellarose]

Miro Syke's been sent here to destroy her. Valentine knew that the day they arrived in town, as much as she tries to avoid it now.

With that in mind, Valentine tries not to shy from the wounded look in their eyes. In fact, she tries to glare at them-- to silently tell them to back off-- but they're right. She manages a pitiful squint and falters, unable to manage it, and looks at the ground. Defeated. It's not her intention to hurt them. Not even like this. It's not their fault she's been so cagey, swinging like a pendulum between listening to her heart and to her head. There's nothing to prove, no fire fueling her actions. She halfheartedly pushes them away, but that's obviously not what she wants.

They're making it so damned difficult. Why can't she find it in her to hate them or at least hold them at arms length like the townspeople? Valentine wasn't built for this life-- she's not as infallible as the town would like her to be-- and the cracks in her mask are beginning to show. Once her heart's involved, her control of the situation veers right off the rails.

"...So what you mean to say is that you've always been something of a pyromaniac?" Valentine asks flatly, thankful for the change of conversation. She peels herself off the ground, pressing her hand to the tree behind her to keep her balance. The world flips sideways, her vision blurs, and she has to take another beat. She squeezes her eyes shut firmly, grappling with a behemoth of a headache. Her red nails sharpen, digging deep claw-like marks into the tree as she endures the town's stirring-- as the power inside takes up too much space. Her next words rattle out of her, light and breathy. "I should be taking notes."

Hadeon must be taking notes, too.

Valentine takes a sharp breath, her nails slicing right through the tree. Quick to react to her blunder, she raises her arms to catch the trunk before it can crush them both. Gingerly, she rights it and holds it in place until the lightning-shaped gashes she left in the bark mend on their own. Whew. She wrings her hands together, bringing them to her chest, as if that might keep the town safe from her meltdown... and she finds them covered in blood.

She starts, her eyes widening with horror, and then realizes-- ketchup. It's ketchup, remember?

"Golly." Valentine deflates, relieved and a bit embarrassed. They can't go back to her house together-- especially not when she's in this sorry state. "Sorry. I-- I'm not feeling like myself right now." 'I'm losing my gosh darn marbles.' But she doesn't want to be alone like this, either. "It's just a lot."

Suddenly the world grows larger, or they grow smaller-- it's as if they ate the cookies in Wonderland. Because suddenly, every flower and blade of grass in the vicinity towers over their heads like buildings in a city. The distance between them and her house has grown exponentially. Looks like they're not walking anywhere now. A giant Sharona dips her head down to peek at them. Her head twitches from side to side... then, one by one, she plucks them up in her beak by their shirts, placing them onto her feathery back.

"Sharona... take us to the garden, please." Valentine surrenders, slumping against the chicken's neck. At this rate, she can't keep dragging the rest of the town into her mess. "Miro, hold onto me. Things are about to get weird." She pauses, "Weirder. Though weird doesn't really seem to faze you, does it?"

 

[starboob]

Great. Now they've got a hankering for dinosaur chicken nuggets. The tyranny of their appetite is chasm deeper than the Marianas Trench.

In another life, maybe they would have had the self preservation necessary to panic when the world suddenly grows to be seventy times larger than themself; and perhaps in that same life they would have run from the chicken who plucks them up from the ground and places them on her back. But they do not live in that world and a lack of self preservation is what's gotten them this far in life. For better or for worse.

As it is, they find themself more hungry than terrified. Not that they are thinking of eating Sharona or anything! Sharona might have tricked them earlier, but she's a homie nonetheless and Miro is confident they can work through this rough patch.

In their reverie, Miro misses the directive to hold onto Valentine until it's too late and they almost fall, but being a favored patron of Lady Dumbluck, they catch themself on a feather. They steady themself then lurch forward to clasp their arms around Valentine's middle, immediately flooded by her warmth. Their cheek squishes against her shoulder, resisting the urge to nuzzle against her and gather more of her warmth. 'Focus. She asked you something.'

"Not really, no." From this angle, the world is like it was when they were a child, when the grass was so tall they could crouch and be hidden; when they could play tiger and rabbit with friends at the park. They rest their chin on Valentine's shoulder.

Bugs sound more like helicopters at this size. A dragon fly races towards their noble steed and Sharona hops, fluttering her wings to catch her prize in her beak with a gritty crunch. She turns, tilting her head with the limp bug hanging from her mouth like she's offering some of her snack. They wrinkle their nose, shaking their head. She clucks and tosses her head back, gobbling up her treat.

"Weird shit happens everywhere — maybe not to the degree it does in Bellwick, but we once had a sewer rat uprising no thanks to a chemical plant illegally dumping their waste." They chuckle. "Honestly, those little bros were pretty cool. The subways haven't been as fun since.

"Things get helluva lot weirder the closer you get to Bellwick." Miro knew this prior to their travels, of course. Being the legend that it is, plenty of people take holidays out to the strange seaside town and come back with wack stories. Miro always wanted to go as a kid, but their parents were too pretentious to consider it, no matter how much they begged and pleaded. 'Drs. Killjoy.' "It takes a drastic turn once you get to Cutwater — their backwards waterfall doesn't even scratch the surface. Like, the bus I was on turned into a giant spider the second we crossed the town boundary." They shiver. "I'm not scared of them or anything, but when you don't suspect it, I think it's reasonable to get squigged." Took them a whole week to get all the spider hairs off their things, too.

"I accidentally started a fire there, too. But I swear I'm not a pyromaniac," they say, returning to a previous point in the conversation. "Fires just kinda happen around me, you could say." The rate of which has increased since Hadeon's hitched a ride in their body and lends them his power when it suits his interests. "Funny, 'cause I always thought I was more of an earth person. Like, sturdy. Solid. You've also got an earthy vibe with maybe some water." They nod, sagely.

After a beat, they sink against her back, chin once more resting on her shoulder. "Sorry you're feeling all crummy. Wish I could help you feel better." They adjust their position. "Whenever I'm hungover, I like soaking it up with a grilled cheese. Do you think a grilled cheese would help?"

 

[ellarose]

"Of course you would suggest food." Valentine breathes a short laugh, exasperated yet amused by the growing familiarity of Miro's appetite. Aw, fine. She can't resist. She releases Sharona's neck with one hand, snaps her fingers, and summons an apple from her garden. Her good intent brings forth a rotten fruit covered in leaky, ghoulish black eyes. Nope. She cringes and tosses it over her shoulder. The discarded apple spasms into various diamond-like shapes before disappearing into the forest of grass below. "...I tried. We can grab a snack later. When it's, ah, safe."

The road ahead bends like rubbery spaghetti, flipping upside down and curling into loop-de-loops. Valentine tightens her grip around Sharona's neck with one arm and squeezes Miro's arm cautioningly to make sure there's not a deadly repeat of their almost-fall from before. "Don't let go of me for a second, Miro Syke. I'm warning you."

Sharona's chicken feet stay planted firmly on the ground, defying gravity as the road turns them upside down.

"A grilled cheese can solve a lot of problems, don't get me wrong." Valentine continues the conversation, as if they're traversing a normal road on a normal morning. "Not this one, though. There's no official guide to being the good witch of Bellwick Springs. I've been writing it myself. This part is-- I'm still figuring this part out..." She trails off. Careful. With Miro's arms wrapped around her waist, warm and dangerously reminiscent of an embrace, the paper-thin ice that defends her heart starts to melt. Before she can admit that their breath on her neck is a strange comfort, and doing weird things to her insides on top of that, she's very aware it's also her enemy's breath that she's feeling on her neck.

Valentine may not be perfect, she may be far from perfect, but upholding that image is ultimately about keeping the likes of Hadeon from learning her weaknesses. Now that it's been revealed that there's so much she doesn't know about the Bellwicksons, their symbols, the town's history... she's not in a position where she can comfortably give him more ammo. Tears of tired frustration brim in her eyes if she thinks about it too much. This is why she's been researching instead of sleeping lately. She desperately needs an edge if she's going to succeed. She needs a plan.

It's overwhelming for one person... but Valentine's the only one who can do this.

Miro's sweet to offer her their help, a listening ear, their friendship. Even sweeter yet to offer those things after getting a glimpse of the horrors lurking behind the good witch facade-- a glimpse of her true self. In another life she wouldn't have hesitated to play twenty questions with them. But if Valentine reaches out for their hand and ultimately finds herself in Hadeon's grasp she'll only have herself to blame.

To Miro's credit, they have been able to keep Hadeon from hurting Valentine thus far. But she's also seen them slip under his control without even realizing it was happening. Deciding to trust in them is like deciding to cross a rickety bridge. Sure, the bridge is there, offering passage across a ravine. If she dares to walk across, it's a gamble whether or not the planks would support her. They might give beneath her feet, dropping her down, down, down to the sharp rocks below. It wouldn't be just Valentine falling, either. The fate of the town she's carrying on her shoulders would fall with her. By failing herself she'd be failing everyone, including Miro.

But... if she makes it across, then what? There's companionship. Something waits for her on the other side of that trecherous ravine that she's been waiting for, yearning for just as much as her freedom. Maybe-- maybe Valentine should trust herself a little more. She could let her walls down and be ready when she does. When Hadeon thinks she's at her weakest, she'll be strong, and then...

"You really think you could pull that off? Don't be an idiot, Val." A familiar voice scratches at her ears like dirty hands digging their way out of the grave. "They're calling you Val now, aren't they? Oh, I can't wait to see the look on your face when you fall from grace."

Valentine clamps her hand down over her locket, as if that might cover his mouth. It scorches her palm, as if in protest. Wisps of ghostly arms escape the heart-shaped pendant, slipping through the gaps between her fingers. Hands clamp onto her shoulders, around her neck, gripping her chin and pulling her hair...

"You'll finally burn with your stupid-- stupid-- little town."

"Bok!" Sharona's startled cluck snaps her from her reverie. The chicken stops short, unintentionally throwing Valentine and Miro off her back and into a heap on the ground. Seconds later, they revert to their true sizes-- the taunting voice stops, the ghostly hands disappear. When Valentine lifts her head, she sees the reason why Sharona stopped so suddenly. The road in front of them has crumbled away into a deep ravine filled with green flames... and the only way across is none other than a rickety bridge. You're kidding.

Valentine bites her lip, turning her attention to Miro... who just so happens to be on top of her after their fall.

 

[starboob]

"This is just like Shrek," Miro huffs, bracing their elbow against the soft surface of —

Valentine Thorne. They squeak, hastily kicking their legs around to pick themself up off of their companion. (How does this keep happening?!) Their face brightens to a color that blends in with their ketchup stained cheeks — a convenient cover to save them from further embarrassment. "I, er, uhhh.."

As if their initial comment hadn't been bad enough, now they seem to have lost all ability of speech. That might be for the best, all things considered. If Miro had any sense of self preservation they would filter their thoughts and not blurt out whatever first comes to mind. But to do that would be to water themself down and they refuse to be a muted portrait of who they are.

They clear their throat, hastily returning their attention to the newly formed ravine — anything to distract themself from the memory of Valentine's shape underneath them; the way she bit her lip looking up at them. They clear their throat again and take a couple steps closer to the ravine. "Is this real?"

Valentine mentioned that things would get weird (weirder), but the line between reality and fantasy blurred somewhere between fighting an evil sunny side up and getting turned small (or the world growing larger). Miro shrugs in answer to their own question and creeps closer to the ledge, waving their hand over the green flames. Tendrils like creeping vines reach for them and lick their palm, tickling them as they burn through the bandages. "Yup, totally real."

The act first, think second mentality is strong within them in spite of all that they have been through. Lady Dumbluck is working overtime keeping them alive.

"If we run acoss the bridge really fast, I think we'll be okay." That's just how physics works. "Then once we're across the bridge, I'll make you a cure all grilled cheese." Miro might not know the weight of Valentine's power, but they can see how it's cracking her spine with its weight. She tries so damn hard for this town and she's trying so damn hard for them that even if she insists that a grilled cheese can't fix this problem, they're determined to at least help her feel something different. Maybe not better, but also not the same and that has to count for something, right? Probably not. They aren't sure their antics could ever come close to easing Valentine's burden.

"I'll test it out first."

The fires roil up over the edge of the ravine and while they cannot feel the heat, the rush sends Miro skipping backwards. The green flames collect at the center of the bridge without burning it and twist into a rising column. The column shivers and warps into the shape of a massive fish. It swims in a loop-de-loop as its form settles, then eventually turns to face the duo, floating above the bridge. "Miro, you idiot."

The voice is a familiar one. It's not the thunder that comes with Hadeon's timbre. It's harsh and raspy from years spent smoking; it's chastising in the way only a best friend could get away with using. Miro's eyes shimmer at the form of their friend.

'It's a trick, isn't it?' They rub their eyes, but the fish in the sky remains. They turn to Valentine, to see if she can see it, too; to see if she knows what to make of it. Is it a product of her leaking magic? Is it some trick of Hadeon's? Is it their own projection?

Why is it blocking them from crossing the rickety bridge from Shrek?

"Don't you ever think?"

"I think all the time — I'm thinking about grilled cheese right now!" It's true, in spite of this development they still have their eyes on the savory prize that awaits them at the end of this weird (weirder) journey.

Their answer, however, does not seem to appease this fish version of their friend. (It's not really her, right?) Her flames brighten, flashing until she resembles less of a fish and more of a bright green ball of fire. Wayward embers rain over the bridge, though they fizzle out upon impact. That's a good sign, they think.

"Take your life seriously for once!" Her voice trembles as her fish form starts to waver, the flames peeling off scale by scale. "Or I'll fucking kill you!"

(Definitely Vega.)

Miro shields their face as the fish continues to deteriorate, filling the ravine with green flames once more. A few embers land in the grass. Sharona stamps and pecks over them before they can spread, however. "Damn," they chuckle while tears gather in their eyes — for unknown reasons. "What was that lady on, huh?"

For all their bravado (stupidity) before, the fish-ghost seems to have gotten to them. They don't inch towards the ravine.

 

[ellarose]

In the back of her mind, Valentine wonders if Miro's subdued response to Bellwick Springs, specifically to her display of world-shattering power, is because of Hadeon. It makes sense, doesn't it? An entity that has already seen and dealt with such oddities wouldn't be fazed by anything. An outsider like Miro ought to be freaking out or questioning reality itself by now. Questioning her. Time itself spun all around them, morphing reality as they knew it at breakneck speeds. She commanded all of the townsfolk to abandon their weapons and leave like they were a hivemind under her control. A sewer rat uprising doesn't hold a candle to what she did back there.

Slowly, Valentine wades through her brain fog and uncovers what's starting to nag her about it. They're too calm, suspiciously so, and it's not so far fetched to presume that Hadeon is numbing Miro's emotions the same way he numbed their senses as he blends himself into their soul. As warm and cushy as that moment of acceptance was, it's hard to trust the immediacy of it. Valentine finds she'd have preferred it if her actions back there had been treated like they mattered-- even if it entailed some yelling or a healthy amount of fear or hesitation. Because it matters to her. This is her reality, it's terrifying and enormous and ought to be treated as such.

'They're calling you Val now, aren't they?' Valentine twists the chain of her locket around her finger, her brow crinkling into her classic thinking face. She has to consider every possibility. No one else is going to look out for her, so she's got to do it herself. 'I can't wait to see the look on your face when you fall from grace.'

Come to think of it, the mention of a sewer rat uprising alone is Suspicious with a capital S. According to her research, supernatural happenings of that level should be unable to occur beyond the bounds of the Seam-- the bounds of Bellwick Springs. The town swallows all outsiders who mean to share stories or photos of the town's stories with the outside world. Those who visit rarely ever make it back home. So how is it that Miro treats most oddities and dangers in the town as commonplace? Even the most levelheaded of outsiders in their position would be perplexed or at least mildly surprised.

...It might be Hadeon's influence. His experiences and memories may be leaking into Miro's mind, giving them a false sense of familiarity with the unfamiliar.

It's just a theory. One theory of many, but it does stand to reason that the real Miro Syke is someone that Valentine has never met before. Traces of them may still exist as they make modern pop culture references and crack jokes, but is it really them? There's a possibility Hadeon has been using their body as a Trojan horse, expertly acting out the struggle between a likable photographer with a heart of gold and himself in order to get closer to her. To the Seam. Saying all those smooth things with romantic undertones, about seeing her... 'Just like him.' (After that their first suggestion was to walk her home! If not for the ravine stalling her, encouraging her to stop and think...)

Valentine considers all of this as Miro dips their hand towards the flames, flirting with danger without batting a lash. Once again taking everything too damn lightly.

'Why are they like this?' Miro Syke... Miro Sus.

All of this may be an elaborate and sinister plot... and she refuses to be an easy mark. She'd be a damn fool not to consider these things before putting any more of her trust in them. It's a shame Valentine doesn't have any testimonies from people Miro knew before their possession, to see whether or not this theory holds any weight.

Perhaps this line of thinking is what inspires the raspy, disembodied voice to rise from the ravine... which ultimately manages to stop Miro from crossing. 'Good. We need to talk.'

"She had a point and you know it." Valentine says in the aftermath, her voice firm but unmistakably gentle when she notices the shine of unshed tears in Miro's eyes. While her heart stings with sympathy, she finds she's also relieved. Human. They're not completely gone, she doesn't think so anyway. If Hadeon were in total control, they'd likely have dismissed the lecture as nonsense and continued across the bridge to get closer to the Seam. This personal, emotional detour wouldn't serve that purpose. Still sitting on the ground, Valentine hugs her legs to her chest and props her chin on top of her knees. She stares at her feet. "You said you're not afraid to be known, Miro. After everything that happened earlier... is grilled cheese really the only thing on your mind?"

 

[starboob]

"A grilled cheese is the only thing on my mind." It's not a lie. There's much to consider when it comes to a grilled cheese — nay, the perfect grilled cheese.

The thickness of the bread is not even a question until one can determine the type of bread. Plain white would, of course, be a classic choice and for a slightly more elevated approach one could go with sourdough — homemade is best, but store bought will do in a pinch. But to make that decision in haste would eliminate the possibility of whole wheat, rye, pumpernickel, and so many others.

Then there's the matter of cheese! Only basic bitches would settle for those orange plastic slices you can get at the supermarket and one is only slightly less basic if they were to go for cheddar. A true grilled cheese master would settle for no less than three different kinds of cheeses — sharp cheddar for flavor, mozzarella for stretch, and Parmesan for those salty nutty notes. If they are feeling particularly fancy they could even get into a garlic butter spread with a sprinkle of parm on the outside for added texture (cronch-cronch).

And because this is a cure all grilled cheese, they may as well add a pat of honey mustard, some thinly sliced apples, and caramelized onions into the mix.

How does Valentine Thorne not understand that a grilled cheese can absolutely occupy about 99 percent of their mind? Why is that ludicrous?!

What is everyone expecting from them?

Miro spreads out their arms and tilts until they're falling backwards into the grass. They hit the ground with a dull thud that might have hurt them three months ago, but only leaves their brain rattling in their noggin’ and vision momentarily blurred. They fish around in their pocket for their trusty pocket knife, smoothing their thumb over the scales before they flip it open and closed. "You might have dissected me like a classroom frog, but that doesn't mean you know me. You don't get to tell me what I know, Val."

Having just faced the image of their friend, they cannot stand anyone trying to tell them about themself — that was her hard won right as someone who pierced through soul and cared for the person underneath that chipper, happy-go-lucky veneer. She was and is their soul's mate. Not even d̶͎͋͝é̴̲̘͙̋̒̚a̶̡̯̮̣̼͍͓̲͗̓ț̷͇́̕̚ḥ̷̊͋́̾̒ can pry that title away.

"I can bring her back." Hadeon whispers, tempting as he is taunting. He's been too quiet so of course he'd strike when they're down. Miro shouldn't be surprised to hear him, but maybe just maybe this body was theirs alone again. "I can give you more time with her."

Miro screws their face shut, inadvertently causing those unshed tears to fall but they're nothing. It's nothing. They bring the knife close to their chest, clutching it until their knuckles turn white. 'Not now. Go away.' He doesn't listen. They can feel him laying over them like double exposure, but he's quiet the same way a snake in the grass is.

"Noah fence." They push through the intrusion, reminding themself of what the point they had been trying to back before. Right. "You're a friend, don't get it twisted." Though she's nowhere near tier four. "But don't talk to me like you know better. Like, how’d you feel if I told you that you ought to be sleeping more? And asking for help? I'm not stupid."

Hadeon chuckles.

Miro glares and snaps up, bending themself in half. 'Shut up.'

"You act so careful for someone invincible, but I'm so reckless because I know I'm invincible." They were reckless before this, too. Hadeon's gifts — if they can be called such — have only emboldened that part of them. "Just 'cause we have a different approach doesn't mean anything. I care about my life."

The way they see it, they are just taking the only path forward they have and that path happens to be a rickety bridge over a flaming ravine full of Hadeon's fire. (What a metaphor.) But Vega — if that was her — wasn't wrong and neither is Valentine.

Reckless got them here.

"I just want to help. It's my life being messed with." It's their life that they messed up — taking an ugly deal with a demon. They wish they could remember what happened that night. Maybe then they could find a loophole out of this like they do in T.V. — some witty one liner that could undo it all. "I just want this to be over. I want to be normal again."

But is that even possible after everything? Vega is… They inhale sharply, turning away from the thought to make it less real. (It's not real.)

"Trading lives for lives is what I do. It doesn't have to be real, little ripper."

"Sorry, I'm being an ass." They ignore Hadeon, even as his shadowy silhouette appears in their peripheral. "I am annoyed that you were right, but that's not your fault. You were just eavesdropping on that loud ass conversation." Lecture, more like. "Just a little touchy, I guess. That fish reminded me of my best friend and I just miss her. A lot." When was the last time they went this long without talking to each other? Miro isn't sure they went more than 8 hours without at least calling each other and those 8 hours were mostly for sleep (on Miro's end, at least).

Now it's been three of their loneliest months since knowing her.

They inhale sharply and pinch the bridge of their nose, massaging the tears back into their eyes. ‘Don’t cry.’ “Hadeon’s here, btw. Or here-er.” They pull their knees up to their chest and rest their cheek on top of them so they’re facing Valentine. “How do we get home from here?”

 

[ellarose]

Indignation leaves Valentine's cheeks rosy and hot. She's been busting her ass for them and this is how they're going to treat her? While there is plenty she could say, plenty she wants to say, she bites her tongue and waits until they've said everything on their mind. Considering it's more than grilled cheese, she finds it's worth hearing, and by the time they've finished she finds she's already cooled down. Ultimately, she's not so upset that she can't see where they're coming from. '...At least they apologized.'

“...You want to know why I’m so careful?” Valentine asks quietly. She has weaknesses, just like anyone else— not that she's going to tell Hadeon in those exact words. Still, there must be something she can say to help Miro understand her better. “It's because I care about your life. I care about the lives of all the people in Bellwick Springs. Whenever I do anything, from sleeping to eating, I think about how my actions are going to affect this town. Maybe that'll sound overkill to you, but I've been through hell before and..." The words wilt in her throat and shakes her head. "If I only thought about myself and what I can handle, you betcha I would get more sleep at night. I know I need to sleep. I know I need help. I can own that. But what else am I supposed to do? You saw what happened back there. If I overslept this morning, half the townsfolk would’ve been gobbled up by a sentient flower! In my experience, negligence and carelessness have deadly consequences.”

Deadly is not an exaggeration, either. Valentine rubs her eyes.

"I've spent every waking moment since we met trying to help you get back to normal." Valentine breathes a soft, hysteric laugh. "You say you're invincible... but you're not. That's all Hadeon. He's trying to control you, to push you out, and you need to acknowledge his influence if you're going to fight it. You can't let yourself become numb to everything that makes you fragile and human... this becomes a cakewalk for him the second you get too comfortable. If you care about your life, you need to start acting and thinking like it."

Valentine hesitates to delve further into this. Hadeon is here. Miro said so... although, truly, they don't need to say so for her to know he's always lurking in the shadows. It's become apparent that she needs to level with them here. If they keep everything surface level, they're never going to get anywhere. Hadeon knows that Valentine doesn't trust him. That's not news to anyone.

"I understand that you want to be more involved, but can you try and consider this from my perspective? It’s not that I don’t want your help… in fact, as a concept, I think it sounds dandy! I would love to have a partner in crime. I would love to get some sleep knowing that the town would be safe in my absence." Valentine sighs wistfully thinking about her bed. It’s been so long since they last met— far too long. She fidgets with her locket. “...I would even love to be closer friends with you. I only hesitate because where you go, Hadeon follows. There are some things I simply can’t trust you with because I don’t trust him. He manipulated you to get as far as he has, Miro, that’s his whole shtick— how am I supposed to know he’s not using you to play mind games with me? I can see you’re still there, but I didn’t know you before your possession… I still don’t know how deep his influence goes. That’s why I’ve been so guarded. For my sake and for yours.”

“We’re in a real pickle here, Miro Syke.” Valentine says. Pickles begin to rain from the sky at her prompting, because of course they do. She snaps her fingers and a giant umbrella sprouts up from the ground like a flower, popping open just in time to protect them from being pelted by vegetables. The pickles bounce off the umbrella with a rhythmic thunk, thunk, thunk. They start to fill the ravine, smothering the green flames. “I used to have more friends here in town. I’m so meticulous about every little thing I do because I’ve lost them all in one way or another. Life is too precious to treat it carelessly.” She flops back in the grass. “So anyway… I know a thing or two about missing people. I get it.”

Mysteries were easier to solve when Valentine had backup. They were even fun. Nowadays... it's lonely.

“Let’s just rest here for a bit, okay? Pickle rain is pretty harmless.” Valentine deflates with a sigh. “…Is this something that happens in Shrek, too?”

 

[starboob]

"You haven't seen Shrek?!" This revelation eclipses all other revelations — so much so that Miro has temporarily forgotten their conversation as well as the gravity of it. It will come back to them — it has to — but for now their jaw hangs on its hinge, ready to fall clean off their face. "Dude. That's like saying you haven't seen Spongebob." Their hands clap over their mouth. "Wait, don't tell me you haven't see that either."

Valentine might as well have insulted their mother and cursed their lineage nine times by admitting, in her roundabout way, that she's never seen the world's greatest and most subversive take on Beauty and the Beast. The girl who can cause pickles to fall from the sky, who can bench press Mothra Jr., who can save the town with her command alone has not seen Shrek. Shrek!! 'She probably doesn't even know about the musical.'

"Damn." Miro inhales in an attempt to press down any more judgment. This is Bellwick Springs. It's possible the film never made it out this way. "Alright, well then the first thing we're doing after this pickle storm passes is having a Shrek marathon — there are four of them out, but that doesn't include holiday specials or the Puss in Boots spin-offs."

They nod, resolute in this plan. Then they lean over, swiping a pickle that's just landed on the ground, and wipe it off on their ketchup crusted clothes. They don't seem to notice or realize this, biting into the end and humming contentedly. These pickles aren't half bad and with a ravine full of them, they wonder about taking some back into town. It would be such a waste to let them rot…

But the thrill of sky pickles and Valentine's admission only tides them over for so long. In its stead, the weight of their earlier conversation gradually settles on their shoulders. Valentine is laying down close enough that they could reach out and touch her shoulder, but the distance between them is starting to feel more like a chasm. It was always there, they realize. But seeing it out in the open, no longer obfuscated by a thick fog of false hope and naïveté, still hits them like a pallet full of bricks.

"Should I leave?" It's the first thought that comes to mind; it's the easiest solution so as to not be a burden on Valentine or a danger to the town she cares so much about. Maybe they'd both stand a better chance if Miro can get away from Bellwick Springs as soon as possible; maybe they could even figure out a way to live with the demon inside of them. "Then you won't have to worry so much. You could get more sleep, too."

But that's no solution and they know it. Miro doesn't even need to wait for a response to know that Valentine probably thinks the same. Because if they leave, Hadeon will continue to grow stronger and there will be a day where Miro stops being Miro. When that happens, Hadeon will return and… Well, either Valentine defeats him then or she doesn't. Either way, it would be the end of Miro and though they might not know what they want from this life, they know they want to live.

Miro is still Miro and that's an advantage they have right now. It would be absolutely dog water to let that slip through their fingers.

Still, they have no other solutions to offer. Without the internet (or web, as Valentine likes to say) they're kneecapped.

They pull out their phone and turn it around in their palm. The screen lights up a few times, providing nothing other than some dim light, the time, and a picture of their rugby team. Though they know that frantic and worried messages are trying to push through Bellwick's deadzone, they're somewhat relieved that they can't. It was getting excessive. 'Just wish they'd trust me. I'm... fine.'

Miro sighs and takes another bite from their pickle. "I don't know that I'd have a place to go if I left." The city will always take them back, but they don't think they could stomach bringing Hadeon there. "My friends would want to help. I actually had to turn off my location so they wouldn't try to find me." Mostly because they had wanted to do this alone.

Though if they think about it, they wonder if Hadeon had compelled them to do that. At the time, they blamed themself for what happened to Vega and felt (and have felt) that it's their responsibility alone to help her. But with everything Valentine has said, with the developments since that time, they're having a hard time trusting what actions have really been their own in these last three months. 'Am I still me? How much is left?'

"No need to worry about that."

"I don't think I could bring them into this now," they say half to themself, to comfort their doubts and quiet Hadeon. "Too dangerous."

After a beat and in spite of the chasm between them, Miro lays down on their side and faces Valentine. "Sorry about your friends. They should invent a machine that brings them back. All lost friends, really." They set their fish knife down between them. "I wish you and I could be friends." Closer friends, that is. Bitter as it is, it's also sweet to know that Valentine wouldn't be entirely opposed to the idea if things weren't as they were.

 

[ellarose]

"I don't own a television set." Valentine admits, not understanding the enormity of Miro's bewilderment until she catches a glimpse of their jaw on the ground from the corner of her eye. She blushes. This feels familiar. "I... I've seen plenty of flicks. I'm not completely out of the loop!" Yet somehow the more she explains, the less convincing she sounds. "I can put a word in with the owner of the drive in. Maybe we can get Shrek someday."

"...All four of them. And the spin-offs." Valentine's fairly confident she could make that happen. She's owed a fair number of favors in Bellwick Springs and rarely ever cashes in on them. Miro will surely be impressed with her then. "Someday."

'Someday.' Valentine closes her eyes, listening intently as Miro mulls over the possibility of leaving. She can tell by the tone of their voice that they know what she knows, that that's not the solution here. Besides, she promised she would help them. If they leave, they'll be going somewhere she can't follow. They'll be back someday regardless, and...

Friends would certainly help, wouldn't they?

'They'll be back someday regardless.'

The seedling of an idea takes root in this moment. A frightening idea, but one with potential. The thought grows like ivy around her heart, wrangling it into a choke hold. It would be risky. The memories they've made thus far flash through her mind in a whirlwind and suddenly, Miro's on their side facing her. Valentine mirrors them, rolling over to her side and facing them. She sees them in a cafe full of chickens, dancing on a dirt road, standing on the rooftop at sunset snapping pictures.

'I wish you and I could be friends.'

Valentine stares at them searchingly. Despite the everything they've been through thus far... well, they said it themself. Miro doesn't even see her as a friend. Not really. Though this realization hurts more than she thought it would, she can admit that loneliness must have warped her own perception of-- whatever it was they had going on. That's her own fault. If they left, lost their memories of her and came back again... they wouldn't be losing much, would they? Just... just her.

"Yeah..." Valentine agrees, closing her eyes. She breathes carefully, holding fast to her composure as the dagger in her chest sinks deeper. "Me too."

In the long run, it would benefit them both to rally a team, to have more people on their side. Teammates who know the town's intricacies as well as she does. Teammates who know Miro, who can tell the difference between what's real and what's false. Surrounding themselves with people they both trust.

In the long run, this will all be for Miro's benefit. What Valentine loses is inconsequential if it means they get to live their life to the fullest.

"You have a machine that connects you to your friends." Valentine opens her eyes, twisting her mouth to the side inquisitively. She nods towards their cell. "With a location feature? I don't know how that works, but... maybe you should turn it back on." Emboldened now that she's set this notion in motion, she sits up. "Let's face it. We need backup, Miro. It might be dangerous, but I won't let them get hurt. I swear it." She offers them her pinkie to prove she means business. "...That said, I've thought of a new mission for you. This time it really is something only you can do. First thing's first. Do you know how to drive?"