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Lizzie fluttered her wings gently, as she always did when she was happy. The afternoon sunlight coming in from above the trees made her golden wings look especially lovely.
When he had first seen her, Ren had assumed that her wings were that of a monarch butterfly’s. Since then, he’d realized that they had the shapes and patterns of a soldier- Danaus eresimus, not Danaus plexippus. He hadn’t known the difference, not until Lizzie had shown him the butterflies that landed on her, pointing out the subtle differences. (When one landed on his nose and he sneezed, she’d laughed, and he’d thought it was the most wonderful sound he’d ever heard.)
She sat in the grass, watching the clouds roll by. Ren sat behind her, weaving an intricate braid into half of her long pink hair. The motions were familiar- he used to do Etho’s hair, during the first game, and sometimes Martyn’s when he let it get a little longer (Bigb and Skizz both preferred their hair as short as can be, and Impulse never let anyone near his hair). He still couldn’t remember where, exactly, he’d learned to do it.
((Long blond hair- but neither Martyn nor Jimmy ever let their hair grow quite that long, and it definitely wasn’t Tango’s head full of flames. A green jacket they’d taken off and draped over his shoulders- viridian leather, not like Scott’s light green denim or Etho’s hunter green bomber jacket, and nothing like Bdubs’ moss covered cloak. Blue eyes- but no one’s eyes were ever blue; they were either green or yellow or brilliantly red. Not blue.))
It didn’t really matter where he learned it. What mattered was the here and now, where Lizzie was looking so lovely in the light. He continued braiding, and they spoke softly about everything and nothing.
“Do you ever think about Before?” she asked quietly.
Ren finished the braid, resting it over the shoulder. He started on the next one. “More than I’d like to.”
She held out her hand, and a butterfly landed on her outstretched finger. “I keep finding myself missing people, except I can’t remember who they are or anything about them. And sometimes…” She swallowed. “Sometimes I find myself missing the people who are here.”
“Like you miss the people they’re supposed to be, even though you don’t know who they are.”
“Yeah.” She exhaled. “Exactly like that.”
“It’s strange, because I sometimes miss them like that- like I miss the people they’re supposed to be- and I also feel I miss the people we were during the last game,” he confessed. “They’re all here, and they’re the same people, but they’re also completely different.”
Lizzie hummed in acknowledgment. “You miss the people you don’t know, and you miss the people you should know but don’t, and you miss the people you do know. And at the end of it all, you’re so homesick you’re almost physically sick.”
“That’s it exactly.” Ren pressed his face against the back of her head for a moment, then continued the second braid.
“It’s not everyone that I feel I miss, though,” she said thoughtfully. “Just some people. Joel and Jimmy and Scott and Pearl. I think- I think I must have known them Before.”
“It was the same for me, last time,” he told her. “With Grian, and Scar, and Impulse, and Bdubs, and Cleo and Etho and Tango. And then with Mumbo and Pearl.”
“I get feelings about them, sometimes.” She looked up at the sky. “Like Joel- he’s an artist, not- not a fighter. Not a killer. He should be painting or sculpting or building. He shouldn’t be here. And Jimmy- Jimmy is supposed to be larger than life. It feels so- so wrong to see him so small.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Scott should- he should be organizing parties and games and- and having fun and probably flirting with every guy he sees. He shouldn’t be planning traps and kills and things. And Pearl should be somewhere where she’s free to fly.”
“Yeah,” Ren agreed. “She should. So should Grian. And Scar shouldn’t be so untrustworthy, and Impulse shouldn’t be so cold, and Bdubs should be loyal. Cleo should be kinder, and Etho should be louder, and Tango shouldn’t be so angry, and Mumbo shouldn’t be so paranoid.”
“I feel like I should be different, too,” Lizzie admitted. “But I don’t know how.”
“I know what you mean.” Ren wished he could see her face.
There was quiet, for a little. The afternoon sunlight was warm, and Lizzie’s wings were mostly still at her sides, fluttering occasionally.
“Do you think- the people who knew us before- do you think they miss us too?” he asked in a whisper.
“Maybe,” she answered. “I hope they do- but also I hope they don’t. I hope they don’t have to feel like this.”
“Sometimes I feel like I almost remember them,” Ren confessed. “There’s- a blond someone with a green jacket and iron goggles. A creeper with goat horns and an arm made of metal. Someone with a helmet of purple glass.”
Lizzie was quiet for a moment. “Someone wearing sandy pale robes and a copper crown. A redhead with a red scarf and red goggles. Others, too, but I can’t quite…”
False was curled up, leaning against Doc’s non-robotic arm. He let her sleep. She definitely needed it. None of them had been getting nearly as much rest as they should have been.
Ren and the others were missing. For the second time, several of their Hermits had been taken from them- and this time there were even more people missing.
Xisuma had been looking nonstop for them. He was slumped over his admin screens, and he could barely keep his eyes open. He shook his head to clear it and kept working, half listening to Doc’s commentary. He could just hear False’s soft snoring. For their sakes, he was going to find Ren, and all the others.
Worlds away, Fwhip was looking too. He typed something out, blinked at his screen, then deleted it and tried again.
Pix had come over to try and help, but he’d fallen asleep wedged into a corner of the room. He started awake, shaking off the last of the nightmare he couldn’t quite remember.
The whole Cod Alliance was gone, except for him, and he missed them so much it hurt. He checked the time, then pulled himself to his feet. He had to go check on Lizzie’s axolotls.
“We’ll see them again,” Ren promised. (It wasn’t a promise that he could keep, and they both knew that).
He finished the second braid. He let it fall against her back.
She turned to face him. Her golden wings fluttered. “Oh, Ren,” she said softly.
“Lizzie…”
“You’re crying.”
He was surprised to find he was, in fact, crying.
She brushed a tear off of his face, then leaned up to kiss his cheek. She slowly kissed all the tears away. When she leaned back, he took her hands in his.
In the dying light, she looked ethereal; golden wings and soft skin and deep eyes.
(Maybe they didn’t need anyone from Before. Maybe as long as they had each other, things would be okay.)