this is probably the biggest plot twist (? plot device?) in this entire fic. but trust me, there's a reason! very important
tw: transphobia
-
It was bright. Undescribably bright. So, so, so incredibly bright, and there were no words that could possibly capture the unsettling, the impossible, the absolute radiance that shone from the golden light, daffodil, buttery, amber sunshine dancing over her eyes.
It blinded her. Scorched her retinas and seared her irises, burnt across her lashes and turned them to smoldering cinders that burst up in strands of wispy smoke that drifted away. Even the dark mist was invisible in the light as it cast its scattering beams in this wormhole of illumination.
Tick-tock. Well, it couldn't particularly be described as a tick-tock. It was more a series of persistently echoing gongs, a million chimes of a clock tower, except all the rings were compacted into a single fraction of a second. There were two sounds to it, and the second one resonated the first, almost harmonizing but so distantly dissonant. It jangled like windchimes and roared like the rush of water, and it clanged like steely light. Tick-tock, tick-tock; tick-tock. A third toll, perhaps, as it echoed.
The light showed no sight of fading as its hue turned warm and orange, like a flame, gentle like a shimmering candle, tick-tock, and vicious like a wildfire that consumed everything. Toasty air streamed over her, pleasantly, as if the tropical wind of a seaside beach, cozy and temperate, tick-tock, and she could almost feel the water lapping against her heels.
But it certainly didn't last, when frigid air overpowered the heat and the brilliance slithered away in a thousand tendrils of dying light that dissolved into the shadows. Faye was left in a dark night, the moon gone, a gleaming white-marble mansion before them.
There were still the chimes, tick-tock. It almost reminded her... almost reminded her... of that night. No, it couldn't be...
Tick-tock. The chimes rang again, deep, in pace with the shattering of stone as debris rolled off a cliff some leagues away. Dust billowed as the shards struck the field below and grass bloomed in a fog of hazy brown.
Two children, a girl and a boy, both with twinkling blonde hair. Tick-tock. One, the girl, with red blotches streaks running through her neatly cropped hair, and the boy sported a plain cut with specifically styled hair and a headpiece.
Oh, no...
- J. R.
June blinked as her eyes adjusted to the new light.
Tick-tock, tick-tock. Warm and inviting, as the summer skies, and June shivered in the night wind as she bundled her cape around her and leaned into Fitz's embrace, letting his warmth tickle her skin.
The two children danced, their arms flowing delicately, the colored stripes in their hair fluttering as the wind stroked their shoulders and whipped their loose sleeves against their elbows. Silk twirled in the night, around their necks and hands, and the girl laughed joyously.
"I wish it could always be this way," she murmured, sporting a pouty face as she flopped onto the boy's shoulder, her hair hanging loose over her face. "But I have to go to Fox~fire. Bo~ring."
The boy crossed his hands. "You're lucky. I wanna go to Foxfire."
"Ugh, no you don't," the girl gagged, pretending to vomit as she draped her hands over the boy and tilted up his chin, his pale skin especially white in the luminescent moonlight. "School is bo~ring."
"No it's not!" the boy protested, hopping up and supporting himself over the girl, his legs binding around her shoulders as he flipped and landed behind her, followed by a playful and gentle slap to the cheek. "You get to learn to bottle lightning, and play splotching, and-"
"And study," she whined, feinting to the left. When the boy raised his arms to parry the attack she sidestepped, moved her left leg back, and launched a quick snap kick toward the boy that struck him squarely in the chest and left him hobbled and doubling over. "Ugh. Wimp. You know you're fine."
"That was uncalled for," he grunted as he swiftly glanced at the moon. The silvery beams brightened up his pale, pale blue eyes, before they were replaced by those blistering beams of unbridled solar flares that charred June's eyes and left her recoiling in surprise.
There was something painful, insecure? (was that the right word?) and miserably agonizing about watching the moment unfurl. Perhaps because she wasn't sure how the moment would end, if it would dissolve into catastrophe or lead into a true happy finale, but it was... the aching.
She stared at the boy and girl, messing with each other's hair and flipping over each other's shoulders, and hurt inside. It hurt, a lot.
- F. V.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
There was that certain ringing in his ears, completing a synchronous migraine-tension-cluster-headache combination. It was as if someone had tossed a hollow bastion bell into his skull and it was now ricocheting across his brain, but it was a chime? A certain clicking? A roaring? It was everything: tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.
He groaned. His body was stiff, and everything still throbbed with the pulse that matched the rhythm of the chiming. Tick-tock. He could barely see straight, and water was clouding his vision, and the figures before him were splotchy and distorted, as if he was faced by an entire army of Blurs. Tick-tock. A girl leaned over him concernedly, was it June? Sophie? Faye, even? Her lips brushed his, softly, sweetly. It was June, he could tell, it was a gesture she specifically reserved for him, god he loved her, tick-tock tick-tock TICK.
TOCK.
The clicking graduated into a crescendo and cascaded into a waterfall-like symphony, TICK-TOCK, and so it was just damned loud! Why? WHY?
WHY, WHY, WHY DID IT HAVE TO HURT SO MUCH?
Something flared in his chest, his brain, his arms, everywhere, and pain overwhelmed him, seizing him and forcing him to double over, the damned pain! THE PAIN! TICK-TOCK, and the girl, June, she pressed her refreshingly cool palm to her forehead and eased the exertion, and he clung onto her, weakly, oh, god, he hated it, TICK-TOCK, TICK-TOCK, and pain overtook him again, like torture, whips lashing against his chest, and something so incredibly soft, and so prettily pink, dipped over his mouth and up again, TICK-TOCK, what was it?
He was faintly aware of the brilliant and heavenly warm gold that swept them away, since it was prickling his skin, quite electrifying! TICK-TOCK. Was he going insane? But short, dark hair fluttered over his eyelids, brought by the sweet-scented wind, he saw, TICK-TOCK, subconsciously? the pink pair of heart-shaped lines that skimmed over him, and the wind seemed to soften the aching, why did it ache so much? But god it hurt! TICK-TOCK. Damn that roaring, he wished it would stop, "June? June? June?"
And June replied, "Yes, I'm here," and pink touched him, and his focus sharpened, and the golden strands whirled around him and sent him away.
- S. F.
Sophie gasped when the gold rush faded for the second time, and they were left on a field of windswept grass, facing the same crystal white manor they'd seen before, and the boy and, was that his dad? were arguing voraciously.
"You're what?" the dad? spat, his features twisting into a mask of total anger. "Say. It. AGAIN!"
The boy inhaled, deeply, as the air swirled around him. "I'M. TRANS!"
His scream shook the earth, sending dust swelling up the field and tearing out the stalks of grass, a surging mist of green and brown that rose like a tidal wave before crashing down. The dad trembled with fury, his foot half-raised like he wanted to stamp it, before he took a horribly excruciating breath and his mouth flew open.
"WAS BEING TALENTLESS NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU? YOUR SISTER. SISTER. FEMALE SISTER. MANIFESTED. AND YOU DIDN'T. AND NOW YOU'RE TRANS?"
"Yes!" the boy yelled shrilly, tearing off the crest, a silver, jagged circle detailed with splotchy mist and angular ridges running through the center, like branches of a tree blasted with lightning, withered and torn away by the wind. "I'm. FUCKING. TRANS!"
"SAY IT AGAIN!" the dad cried out. "SAY IT AGAIN!"
"I'M FUCKING TRANS!"
The dad struggled with his words, his tongue curling behind his teeth, before he snatched his son's arm and twisted it behind him. The cracking of bone filled the air with its pop pop pops and Sophie found herself clutching her ears.
The boy's fingers uncurled and the crest dropped to the ground. The dad cast one disgusted look at his son before he trampled the silver circle into metal dust and stomped away, his footsteps sending clouds of shredded grass into the air.
Sophie stood motionless as she examined the boy's face, a mixture of horror and pain and deep, impossible regret. He stared at the scraps on the ground before he turned away and his hand traveled to his face. She felt strange. She felt... pity?
A soft quaver near her, and Sophie turned to see Faye shaking with spasmodic tremors. There were tears gathering in her eyes, and she was nervously combing her hand through her hair, her lips bitten down in sardonic expectation.
Golden light flared and ran over her, taking her away, again.
- J. R.
Was Fitz fine?
She wasn't sure. But his forehead was glowing yellow and his body was spasming erratically. His cheeks held a greenish tint and his arms were limp by his side, except for his occasional jerks, and perspiration was continuously trickling down his hairline and into his lips.
Okay, scratch that. Fitz definitely wasn't fine.
Heck, she was so concerned about him she hadn't even noticed the golden light had dumped them into the night air again. Sure, she felt the chilling breeze ruffle her skirt, but it was all wind to her (that was an inaccurate sentence. She was a Guster) and her eyes had been trained on Fitz.
"June? June? June?" he had whispered, and she had responded, "Yes, I'm here," and it seemed to help. Because his head had lolled onto his shoulder and he was now drooling (!) into her lap. As much as she hated to say it, he looked unbearably cute, even when he was as sick as he was now.
Were they in a tunnel of golden light? She didn't particularly care. And Fitz groaned, softly, and she was already rushing to tend to whatever aches he might be experiencing.
"Ju-June," he managed to stutter, and June laughed with relief.
"Yes," she whispered, uncontrollably giggling at Fitz's expression. "Yes, it's me. Hey, Fitz. Fitz."
"Mmh," he murmured, his smile insufferably sweet as his hand climbed up her arm and grasped her shoulder, his index finger tickling her bicep. "I saw."
"Saw what?"
He smiled, trance-like, and rested his gaze on her lips.
"Mmh," he murmured again, his head swaying in the golden light (yes, there was golden light) before it froze, and his eyes were on her lips still, and his head relaxed into her lap and he began to snore.
"Get some sleep," she whispered to the beautiful, sleeping boy, and her head instinctively lowered. She brushed her hair from her face, leaving the flyaway strand alone, and that strand of hair touched Fitz's forehead. Golden light blossomed and he stirred at the touch, before his lips formed a delighted smile and June's lips collided with his and they shared a kiss. Not a perfect kiss, mind her, but it was a kiss, and Fitz smiled before he slumped down and fell asleep again.
- S. F.
The light rushed away again, leaving them cold in the air, and this time they were peering through a white-stained window and watching the same boy and girl slouch against a sofa. The girl had a smirk on her face as she spun a pen on her knuckles and the blue tip traced circles in the air.
Meanwhile the boy was sulking as he fiddled with a sheet of paper, colored light blue and pink and white. It was somewhat representative of the trans flag, Sophie realized, but there were certain details that were off. Clearly he was attempting to recreate the flag out of some distant memory, and he wasn't that far off from the accurate flag.
"Aisy?" he whispered, brokenly. "Has Mom come back yet?"
"Mmh? No. But it's nice, isn't it?" Her sharp glance cut over to her brother, and she smiled when her pen dropped and swung between her fingers, like a pendulum of an olden grandfather clock.
The boy didn't respond, staring desperately at the flag. "It's been three days. Have they not even hailed you?"
"They didn't want me to. Said they were having a romantic honeymoon over Khasmhanger. The view is beautiful, I've been there. What?" She tilted her head, studying her brother, who had been keeping the colored portion of the flag hidden from her. "What's that in your hands?"
"Aisy..." the boy murmured.
"Mmh?"
"I can't, I can't, I can't," he chorused, like he was a broken piece of machinery jammed on repeat.
The girl stood and her pen clattered to the ground, spilling some of its blue ink as the cartridge shattered. "What are you not telling me?"
"I have to go," he said, and he made to stand before the girl tackled him back onto the couch, and they landed with a painful oomph.
"What are you not telling me?" she demanded, her voice faltering when her pale blue eyes flashed with realization. "Where is your pin?"
"I don't have it," he gritted out, tearing his arms from the girl's grip. He kicked against the floor with a burst of channeling and their sofa skid to the opposite wall from the force as he charged from her grip. "Let me go!"
He stormed out the living room and the door flew out after him.
- F. V.
He woke. The tick-tock had finally faded. Somewhat. It was still reverbrating faintly in his ears, but at least it was at a manageable volume now. And he was doing all he could to concentrate on June's concerned face, and her eyes glowing light blue. God, she was beautiful.
He clung onto her arm as she pulled him up, and he reclined against her shoulder as he rubbed his eyes and cleared the water clogging his vision. The world blinked into focus. And of course, the first thing he heard was yelling.
"WHAT?" the girl thundered, the wind spiraling around her and picking up dust and grass and immaculate shards of rock that spun in a cyclone, its edges glistening as it eroded roughly under the wind.
The boy took a deep breath, his entire body shuddering, maybe from the cold. "They're-" the boy stammered, his lips vibrating in a wretched pattern. "They're- they're gone."
"Gone," the girl spat, her spit flying in her fit of rage. "BECAUSE?"
"BECAUSE OF ME!" the boy screamed, and lightning illuminated the dark sky when he raised his voice even more. "BECAUSE I'M FUCKING TRANS, AND IF YOU DON'T WANT TO ACCEPT ME THEN LEAVE!"
Wind exploded behind the girl and her hair began to shred, streaks of dark panicking as earthy mist covered her face, which was masked with pure hatred and anger. "Trans," she hissed, her lips flying and ruggedly forming the word.
Thunder roared. "Yes!" the boy cried out. "I'm damned trans!"
"AND MY PARENTS ARE GONE BECAUSE OF YOU?"
"They're my parents too!"
The girl's face twisted horribly, and the wind further warped her expression, transforming it into something venomous and increasingly murderous, before she dug her feet into the soil, kicking up clouds of brown, and spun away.
"Wait!" the boy cried. "Aisy!"
She didn't turn her head.
"Don't call me that anymore," she rasped, like she was crying, "and don't try to look for me. Goodbye."
She ran, ran, the wind carpeting her steps as she ran away, and the boy lunged for her, crying, his sobs heaving and grief-stricken, and gold light sweeped them away. Finally.