Work Text
1. Rose/Kanaya
Kanaya knocks a spell against the door to the wizard tower and it groans open for her. It’s wrought iron and heavy purple wood, carved like thorns and constellations, tentacles and tomes.
The tower creaks, a ponderous, monstrous thing. Kanaya climbs past her wife’s experiments — portals into the void, elixirs full of blinking-eye bubbles, libraries coiling into more spiral-staircase towers — and finds Rose bent over her latest manuscript. She was human, once. Shadows wriggle from and around her like arms.
Kanaya brought tea and muffins. She leads Rose out to take a break on the tower patio in the sun.
2. Barzum/Joey
Joey meets Barzum Soleil and her twin brother at dance practice. They’re gymnasts, taking ballet for variety. They’re so far ahead of the rest of the class it burns her, at first. Seeing a photo of their glittery, garish trophy wall back home, knowing they’re headed for the Olympics; watching them snicker to each other behind quick hands.
“I almost never get days off,” Barzum sighs to Joey, finally. Her leotard is yellow-purple-black harlequin print — her eyes are searching, decorated with sequins. “But I’ve got tickets for the carnival, tomorrow. Wanna go?”
“With you and Baizli?”
“Just me.”
”Um. Sure.”
3. Chahut/Calliope
The Priestess smears sacred oil across skeletal statues, painting clownish smiles that smell like incense and buttery popcorn. She murmurs honey-voiced poetry, arms dripping open, eyes piously closed. She’s exhausted. Above her temple, space seethes and stretches, full of strangeness and miracles.
A green skeletal fingertip taps against the Priestess’s chin. She looks up, eyes syrupy-wonder, into the face of a Goddess. Undiscovered stars.
The Priestess was never smaller than anyone trying to kiss her, before, until the Goddess started visiting. She’s always curling into herself, slouching, bending for others’ comfort. The Goddess holds her upright, like she’s what’s holy.
4. Jane/Roxy
Jane and Roxy first kiss in the middle of a fight. Unfinished thoughts, frustrated tear-salt and Jane’s cookie dough-flavored lipstick.
Jane’s saying something she doesn’t believe, because she’s embarrassed and overwhelmed and inheriting a company. An electronic novelty tiara; a lofty title she thinks… maybe… shouldn’t actually exist.
Roxy’s struggling to understand what Jane means, even as her words sting like a tequila shot when you’re already drunk-sick. Roxy cups Jane’s soft cheek, her neck. Designer jacket. Pearls. Panic.
Jane’s so startled… amazed, overcome, beloved… that she drops her Diet Coke. It stains the powder-blue floor of her fanciest car.
5. Marsti/Folykl
Marsti only stole all that money to get Folykl treatment, you know. That’s how she can still stand, still shoot back snarky comebacks. Still break her girlfriend out of prison.
Yeah, you heard me.
When Marsti pulled her heists, she worked at each place for months, first. A humble, unassuming janitor — stained work suit, vague eyes, polite nods. Banks, ritzy companies, that one rich guy who kept telling her to call him Zebruh and maybe sit on his lap while cleaning his desk... ugh.
Folykl does things differently. Explosions, blackouts, sirens. Consider it a supervillain origin story, and for love.
6. Feferi/Aradia
The Mermaid and the Ghost sit on a raft, lost at sea. The Ghost’s body rots beside them — she told the Mermaid she’s allowed to eat that sloughed-off meat, now, but it feels weird. Her warm blood smelled delicious while she was still holding on. The Mermaid brought her fish, coral decorations, curious head-cocked smiling fangs. She tried dragging her raft towards land. Fresh water. Life.
They didn’t make it in time.
The Ghost has dimples, a mischievous smile. Now that she’s dead, they can finally understand each other’s languages.
Feferi takes Aradia to visit barnacle-studded ruins, beneath the waves.
7. Meenah/Aranea
Captain Meenah was waltzed around the deck blindfolded, on her old ship. She was danced off the plank as her mutinous crew plucked away all her golden bangles. Shoved, finally, by the man she said she couldn’t love. Drowned, velvet coat dissolving slow into the water.
Now, Meenah listens as a chatty historian in cat-eye glasses records her adventures. Plucking apart her stories. Aranea studies ancient coins, writes historical fiction novels. Meenah prefers the web of her mind to the truth.
Asks, “Come with me?”
“Yes.”
Aranea dreams of open sea, kisses on her neck. A black flag above them.