Willow also looked away.
The sky was the color of an ugly bruise. The moon was white, almost yellow in the distance. She wondered if it was the same moon from back home. It had to be, but everything felt different. The weird buzzing in the air and the incessant loop that Willow had seen and witnessed and lived and created made everything so different.
The moon, however, was still the same. A constant. She smiled.
Willow smiled back.
"You're making it easy for me." She reached out toward the darkness, her hand firmly grasping at the air. "You know?"
A raised eyebrow, a comment left unsaid, a message sent right through Garnet like the glass in Willow's palm: all these things meant nothing in the long run. This whole experience was meaningless, and somewhere in that gnosis, Willow had lost and found herself. She moved a bit again, grabbing the candle by the handle.
"Really easy."
There's Static In My Bloodstream
Garnet's eyes tracked the motion of Willow's hand and froze there.
She wasn't walking the path, she was on the precipice, this moment hanging by a thread.
Each breath howled in her ears.
"...Easy for you to do what?"
She wasn't walking the path, she was on the precipice, this moment hanging by a thread.
Each breath howled in her ears.
"...Easy for you to do what?"
"Easy for me to set myself on fire." She deadpans in the moment of silence after Garnet's word, before even thinking.
She stares for another second before pulling the candle.
"And then." She hissed a breath through her teeth. She felt small.
She was.
She was so small underneath the stars.
Tiny. Microscopic.
She whispered. Almost not speaking, just mouthing the words. Intimate as it was, Willow still spoke in her broken voice.
"In the end," she muttered, "we're so small Garnet."
Maybe it was inconsiderate to drag the last remaining person through her dream, but she had to. Willow had to. No-one would do it if she didn't.
"What's a teardrop of pain in an ocean of suffering?"
She pulled the flame closer.
She stares for another second before pulling the candle.
"And then." She hissed a breath through her teeth. She felt small.
She was.
She was so small underneath the stars.
Tiny. Microscopic.
She whispered. Almost not speaking, just mouthing the words. Intimate as it was, Willow still spoke in her broken voice.
"In the end," she muttered, "we're so small Garnet."
Maybe it was inconsiderate to drag the last remaining person through her dream, but she had to. Willow had to. No-one would do it if she didn't.
"What's a teardrop of pain in an ocean of suffering?"
She pulled the flame closer.
"I don't get you, Willow."
The cliff face was crumbling beneath her feet.
"You keep lying.
"You don't really want to make it boring, but if you wanted this instead, you'd have—"
Garnet's mouth fought against the words, rebelling, locking her jaw.
She forced it open.
"—there'd have been so many chances.
"...I had chances."
Garnet looked at the candle.
"Are you asking for a reason? Not to do it?"
The cliff face was crumbling beneath her feet.
"You keep lying.
"You don't really want to make it boring, but if you wanted this instead, you'd have—"
Garnet's mouth fought against the words, rebelling, locking her jaw.
She forced it open.
"—there'd have been so many chances.
"...I had chances."
Garnet looked at the candle.
"Are you asking for a reason? Not to do it?"
"I'm not- I don't- I-
"I don't fucking lie. I'm not fucking lying."
Her fingers dug in the wax. She could feel the heat dripping onto her.
"This?
"This is your lifeline.
"Just fucking t-take it.
"It's free."
The candle was so puny in her hand.
"Don't- don't ask any questions.
"Don't you fucking dare take this away from me."
"I don't fucking lie. I'm not fucking lying."
Her fingers dug in the wax. She could feel the heat dripping onto her.
"This?
"This is your lifeline.
"Just fucking t-take it.
"It's free."
The candle was so puny in her hand.
"Don't- don't ask any questions.
"Don't you fucking dare take this away from me."
"So that's it?
"That's all this leads to?
"You're gonna sit there with just the two of us, and tell me that you lived for two weeks to burn yourself up at the last second?"
Freefall.
"Why me? Why now? You don't even know me!
"Just tell me the fucking truth!"
"That's all this leads to?
"You're gonna sit there with just the two of us, and tell me that you lived for two weeks to burn yourself up at the last second?"
Freefall.
"Why me? Why now? You don't even know me!
"Just tell me the fucking truth!"
"Because the road to hell is paved with good intentions, god fucking dammit!
"Get a fucking clue.
"Do you really think I want that? Do you really fucking think I don't want to be selfish for once and just go the fuck home and be left alone by everything and everyone?"
There were tears in her eyes. She swallowed them back. Her hand trembling as the candle wax dripped on her fingers.
"Because someone," she choked, "someone has to be the villain, someone has to be evil, someone has to be the yin to the yang to the winner or else none of this fucking matters."
She blew the candle. Metaphorically, at least. The heat reminded her that the plan was still moving right along.
"I've ruined everything I stood for.
"I hurt everyone around me, and I used and I pushed and I tortured, myself and others, to get here. To make sure that whoever was the last one standing could go home and be something else than a fucking victim
"So they could make something out of this
"Jesus fucking Christ, you dumb cunt. It's not just about me, and it's clearly just not about you. We all have roles to play, and just, fucking, just fucking do it. You get to live. I don't. Take it.
"Just fucking take it, dammit!"
She was panting. Her body wanted to push back against everything she said. She was selfish to the very end, and she assumed everyone knew it.
"Someone has to win. Someone has to or else this is all useless!"
And she wanted that. It would be easier if they both died, and the overwhelming selfish part of her just wanted to push for that narrative. It would be easier if they all died. But nothing was easy, and Willow, for once, hated it.
"Take it, please just take it." She sobbed, her nose running. "Please.
"I'm so tired."
"Get a fucking clue.
"Do you really think I want that? Do you really fucking think I don't want to be selfish for once and just go the fuck home and be left alone by everything and everyone?"
There were tears in her eyes. She swallowed them back. Her hand trembling as the candle wax dripped on her fingers.
"Because someone," she choked, "someone has to be the villain, someone has to be evil, someone has to be the yin to the yang to the winner or else none of this fucking matters."
She blew the candle. Metaphorically, at least. The heat reminded her that the plan was still moving right along.
"I've ruined everything I stood for.
"I hurt everyone around me, and I used and I pushed and I tortured, myself and others, to get here. To make sure that whoever was the last one standing could go home and be something else than a fucking victim
"So they could make something out of this
"Jesus fucking Christ, you dumb cunt. It's not just about me, and it's clearly just not about you. We all have roles to play, and just, fucking, just fucking do it. You get to live. I don't. Take it.
"Just fucking take it, dammit!"
She was panting. Her body wanted to push back against everything she said. She was selfish to the very end, and she assumed everyone knew it.
"Someone has to win. Someone has to or else this is all useless!"
And she wanted that. It would be easier if they both died, and the overwhelming selfish part of her just wanted to push for that narrative. It would be easier if they all died. But nothing was easy, and Willow, for once, hated it.
"Take it, please just take it." She sobbed, her nose running. "Please.
"I'm so tired."
Garnet leaned back, retreated.
The jolt was a cord she hadn't known was attached. She twisted and spun at its end, kicking and flailing.
That was it?
Somebody had to be bad and somebody had to be good? It cut all the way back to the black and white?
Garnet's hands clenched, shook.
She'd stumbled her way here, tripping over her luck, picking move after move that got her closer only because they weren't wrong enough to be lethal, and now she was supposed to be the hero. A hero by default. Worthwhile only in that she fit the bill, could be crammed into the right box. A winner because Willow needed somebody else, somebody who reached the staggering fucking bar of 'good enough'.
Garnet didn't know how this should end. She didn't know right from wrong.
There wasn't right or wrong. Just their choices. The last choices they had left.
Nobody was coming.
She was alone.
Go home. Have a future.
Willow's hand quivered.
"Wait."
The word ripped out of the depths of Garnet's throat.
"Hold on, just—just wait."
When had she stood? Garnet held the shotgun, the barrel jittering and swaying wildly. Her knuckles were white.
"Let me—if that's, if that's how you want to—if that's how it's supposed to be then, then...
"I've gotta take some responsibility."
It rose. Fell.
Rose.
Fell.
Garnet swallowed, inhaled, exhaled, tried to bring the wavering barrel to bear as it dipped, again and again.
"Just—I've just..."
She—she could—she could, she just, she needed...
The jolt was a cord she hadn't known was attached. She twisted and spun at its end, kicking and flailing.
That was it?
Somebody had to be bad and somebody had to be good? It cut all the way back to the black and white?
Garnet's hands clenched, shook.
She'd stumbled her way here, tripping over her luck, picking move after move that got her closer only because they weren't wrong enough to be lethal, and now she was supposed to be the hero. A hero by default. Worthwhile only in that she fit the bill, could be crammed into the right box. A winner because Willow needed somebody else, somebody who reached the staggering fucking bar of 'good enough'.
Garnet didn't know how this should end. She didn't know right from wrong.
There wasn't right or wrong. Just their choices. The last choices they had left.
Nobody was coming.
She was alone.
Go home. Have a future.
Willow's hand quivered.
"Wait."
The word ripped out of the depths of Garnet's throat.
"Hold on, just—just wait."
When had she stood? Garnet held the shotgun, the barrel jittering and swaying wildly. Her knuckles were white.
"Let me—if that's, if that's how you want to—if that's how it's supposed to be then, then...
"I've gotta take some responsibility."
It rose. Fell.
Rose.
Fell.
Garnet swallowed, inhaled, exhaled, tried to bring the wavering barrel to bear as it dipped, again and again.
"Just—I've just..."
She—she could—she could, she just, she needed...
"No."
The word came out before she had any control.
"I- You- You're not..."
She didn't want to get shot like a pig. Willow didn't want that. She had made that very vocal to herself and to others. The idea of being punctured by thousands of tiny metal pieces through her lungs made her shudder. It seemed like a bad death. The type of death philosophers wrote about in their books about life.
She didn't want to die like that.
"You don't need to do that."
She scooted over, the candle still in her hand.
There was no way she'd end up painted on the walls of the mansion like everyone else.
"Please." Her eyes down the barrel of the gun. "D-don't."
Garnet was supposed to be the good guy. The hero?
Had Willow failed to pick the right one again? She thought about her other options, her other paths she had carved in her own flesh. She knew what she needed to do to ensure its completion.
The word came out before she had any control.
"I- You- You're not..."
She didn't want to get shot like a pig. Willow didn't want that. She had made that very vocal to herself and to others. The idea of being punctured by thousands of tiny metal pieces through her lungs made her shudder. It seemed like a bad death. The type of death philosophers wrote about in their books about life.
She didn't want to die like that.
"You don't need to do that."
She scooted over, the candle still in her hand.
There was no way she'd end up painted on the walls of the mansion like everyone else.
"Please." Her eyes down the barrel of the gun. "D-don't."
Garnet was supposed to be the good guy. The hero?
Had Willow failed to pick the right one again? She thought about her other options, her other paths she had carved in her own flesh. She knew what she needed to do to ensure its completion.
Rose—
Willow spoke. Garnet stilled. The gun was not levelled.
It—
She shouldn't just let this happen. She should—she had to at least have a hand in how this ended.
or
or, or, or, or, or, or
...
it shouldn't be about what Garnet wanted.
she couldn't steal that from Willow.
Even if she hated to stand by. Even if it tore her up. Garnet could live with it. Garnet would be able to live with it.
Her finger was on the trigger. Willow stared down the barrel.
Garnet's finger quivered. Lifted.
Then Willow headbutted her.
Willow spoke. Garnet stilled. The gun was not levelled.
It—
She shouldn't just let this happen. She should—she had to at least have a hand in how this ended.
or
or, or, or, or, or, or
...
it shouldn't be about what Garnet wanted.
she couldn't steal that from Willow.
Even if she hated to stand by. Even if it tore her up. Garnet could live with it. Garnet would be able to live with it.
Her finger was on the trigger. Willow stared down the barrel.
Garnet's finger quivered. Lifted.
Then Willow headbutted her.
The stars in the night sky materialized inside of her. Her eyes were filled with them, with thousands of bursts of black and gray and purple filling her vision. The candle was in her hand as it melted through the wax. The heat forced Willow's eyes to open, making her stare down at the gun once again.
She pushed it away with disdain and disgust, shoving Garnet against the railing.
Willow raised the candle next to her head. Her teeth clashed against each other in apprehension. She could still do it. The fire could still engulf her, and with a bit of luck, the rest of the mansion. Her eyes widened.
Her free hand brushed past Garnet's wrist until she finally got a hold of the girl's hand. Fingers interlaced with hers, Willow spoke.
"Sorry about that," she whispered, her skull echoing her own voice. "Just had to make sure you wouldn't ruin everything, you know?"
Willow put the burning flame to her own skin, expecting something other than the flame to die do-
Die down?
.......it died down?
It did nothing.
It was gone. Extinguished. Vanished.
It shattered against her skin like her dreams, turning into millions of pieces and disappearing in front of everyone.
Wasn't wine alcohol? Wouldn't-
Wouldn’t it?
"FUCK!
"FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK SHIT FUCKING FUCK!"
The melted burning wax got in the way of her fingers reaching down her own neck, questing for the piece of glass. She felt her face turn bright red from the embarrassment. The recurring nausea came back, her throat squeezing down the anxiety of her failure. Willow screamed again. Willow gave up on that shard, moving to the one lodged in her arm. She ripped it off, letting the world hear the piece of tape break.
"Nobody's going home now!" It could still- it could still work. It could still work. It would still work. She was still in control of the narration, of the story, of the characters, of everything that came through her mind. The reality she fashioned would become true, and the world would see it. "No-one!"
The diegetic clicking of the blade materialized, coming back from the darkness. The glass shard had dug in her arm for too long. Itching, the blade was now digging in Garnet's side.
She pushed it away with disdain and disgust, shoving Garnet against the railing.
Willow raised the candle next to her head. Her teeth clashed against each other in apprehension. She could still do it. The fire could still engulf her, and with a bit of luck, the rest of the mansion. Her eyes widened.
Her free hand brushed past Garnet's wrist until she finally got a hold of the girl's hand. Fingers interlaced with hers, Willow spoke.
"Sorry about that," she whispered, her skull echoing her own voice. "Just had to make sure you wouldn't ruin everything, you know?"
Willow put the burning flame to her own skin, expecting something other than the flame to die do-
Die down?
.......it died down?
It did nothing.
It was gone. Extinguished. Vanished.
It shattered against her skin like her dreams, turning into millions of pieces and disappearing in front of everyone.
Wasn't wine alcohol? Wouldn't-
Wouldn’t it?
"FUCK!
"FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK SHIT FUCKING FUCK!"
The melted burning wax got in the way of her fingers reaching down her own neck, questing for the piece of glass. She felt her face turn bright red from the embarrassment. The recurring nausea came back, her throat squeezing down the anxiety of her failure. Willow screamed again. Willow gave up on that shard, moving to the one lodged in her arm. She ripped it off, letting the world hear the piece of tape break.
"Nobody's going home now!" It could still- it could still work. It could still work. It would still work. She was still in control of the narration, of the story, of the characters, of everything that came through her mind. The reality she fashioned would become true, and the world would see it. "No-one!"
The diegetic clicking of the blade materialized, coming back from the darkness. The glass shard had dug in her arm for too long. Itching, the blade was now digging in Garnet's side.
Garnet reeled, seeing nothing but dark spots. A push, and the unbroken part of the rail creaked, she teetered, over—she caught herself, or maybe Willow did, maybe both.
She was so stunned that her survival instinct forgot to kick in. By the time panic sparked off within, Willow was holding her, hands locked intimately together. No shot, no stab, no strike. Garnet blinked stupidly, trying to shake off the impact.
Willow murmured into Garnet's ear. Her eyes shone.
Willow tried to set herself alight.
Garnet fumbled over a protest, and by the time it failed, so too had Willow.
No flame.
No flame.
Maybe Garnet could—
Willow exploded with rage. For a ridiculous second, Garnet wanted to apologise. Her skull still rang. Willow let go and Garnet stumbled, sagged. She couldn't—
The sharp point sank into her hip, scraping bone. Garnet yelled out her pain. Her focus narrowed to that jagged tip.
Garnet pushed off the railing and lurched into a haymaker backed with the entire weight of her body.
She was so stunned that her survival instinct forgot to kick in. By the time panic sparked off within, Willow was holding her, hands locked intimately together. No shot, no stab, no strike. Garnet blinked stupidly, trying to shake off the impact.
Willow murmured into Garnet's ear. Her eyes shone.
Willow tried to set herself alight.
Garnet fumbled over a protest, and by the time it failed, so too had Willow.
No flame.
No flame.
Maybe Garnet could—
Willow exploded with rage. For a ridiculous second, Garnet wanted to apologise. Her skull still rang. Willow let go and Garnet stumbled, sagged. She couldn't—
The sharp point sank into her hip, scraping bone. Garnet yelled out her pain. Her focus narrowed to that jagged tip.
Garnet pushed off the railing and lurched into a haymaker backed with the entire weight of her body.
The shank broke inside of Garnet’s body. Willow, futilely, tried to dig it for it. When she realized her nail could only burrow so deeply into the flesh, and the only result she got was deep cuts in her fingers, she gave up. Her decision was only reaffirmed when Garnet’s fist flew straight to the side of Willow’s jaw. It knocked her head back, sending more stars through her vision. She could feel something crack in her.
Willow retreated an inch, spitting something out of her mouth. A tooth. It was vain and superficial, but that was what pushed Willow over the edge. Her eyes turned wide, her hand swiftly darted underneath her cardigan. There, hid the knife that was stuck in Daria’s rib cage. Willow considered leaving it there, but she loved Daria too much to forget about her that easily. It wasn’t fair.
Daria was supposed to be here, not Garnet nor Willow.
“Gosh, I had been a fool-” she started, her mouth moving before her mind chose to make that thought a private one.
As the narrator of the story, she had quickly figured out that the first-person perspective was less than optimal. It was too restrictive and too gauche. It was too naive. For what she had been planning to do, she needed something of a larger scale.
In any case, she chose to finish that line of thought.
She, Willow continued, had been a fool to think that. She was still in control, she could still make it, she could achieve Daria’s dream that slowly but surely became Willow’s.
She lunged. Willow’s knife pointed straight at Garnet’s throat. She wouldn’t crack under the pressure. Despite the slip-up, Willow knew she was stronger than everyone else.
Willow retreated an inch, spitting something out of her mouth. A tooth. It was vain and superficial, but that was what pushed Willow over the edge. Her eyes turned wide, her hand swiftly darted underneath her cardigan. There, hid the knife that was stuck in Daria’s rib cage. Willow considered leaving it there, but she loved Daria too much to forget about her that easily. It wasn’t fair.
Daria was supposed to be here, not Garnet nor Willow.
“Gosh, I had been a fool-” she started, her mouth moving before her mind chose to make that thought a private one.
As the narrator of the story, she had quickly figured out that the first-person perspective was less than optimal. It was too restrictive and too gauche. It was too naive. For what she had been planning to do, she needed something of a larger scale.
In any case, she chose to finish that line of thought.
She, Willow continued, had been a fool to think that. She was still in control, she could still make it, she could achieve Daria’s dream that slowly but surely became Willow’s.
She lunged. Willow’s knife pointed straight at Garnet’s throat. She wouldn’t crack under the pressure. Despite the slip-up, Willow knew she was stronger than everyone else.
Sharpness shifted beneath her skin, Willow's fingers scrabbled and scratched, ripping at the wound.
Garnet's fist connected and she stumbled into the follow through, another unlearned lesson. Her breath seethed through clenched teeth, attempting to force out the agony at her side. It hurt even to stand. Standing was the bare beginning of what she needed.
Willow started to say something, and then stopped, like she'd started a soliloquy and then noticed the audience.
She had a knife. The gun was on the floor.
How quickly could Garnet move? Not that quickly.
Willow flew at her. Garnet twisted. Glass ground on bone.
Their bodies collided, but the blade didn't bite home. The two of them hit the rail, rebounded with the creak of tortured wood. Garnet gripped Willow around the arms and drove a knee into her stomach. Willow stabbed at her, lacking power, but gouging one, two, three pricks down her back. Garnet kneed her again, then Willow's other hand was in her face, her eyes, a foot hooked around her ankle.
They fell to the balcony. Garnet threw out a desperate hand, caught Willow's wrist before the knife could come plunging down into her neck. Willow's bloody snarl bore down upon Garnet, forcing the weight of her body onto the knife as she tried to pin down Garnet's legs with her own. Garnet strained, arm trembling with the effort.
Breathed.
Tucked her legs and then kicked up into Willow's hips, up, out. Over.
Garnet's fist connected and she stumbled into the follow through, another unlearned lesson. Her breath seethed through clenched teeth, attempting to force out the agony at her side. It hurt even to stand. Standing was the bare beginning of what she needed.
Willow started to say something, and then stopped, like she'd started a soliloquy and then noticed the audience.
She had a knife. The gun was on the floor.
How quickly could Garnet move? Not that quickly.
Willow flew at her. Garnet twisted. Glass ground on bone.
Their bodies collided, but the blade didn't bite home. The two of them hit the rail, rebounded with the creak of tortured wood. Garnet gripped Willow around the arms and drove a knee into her stomach. Willow stabbed at her, lacking power, but gouging one, two, three pricks down her back. Garnet kneed her again, then Willow's other hand was in her face, her eyes, a foot hooked around her ankle.
They fell to the balcony. Garnet threw out a desperate hand, caught Willow's wrist before the knife could come plunging down into her neck. Willow's bloody snarl bore down upon Garnet, forcing the weight of her body onto the knife as she tried to pin down Garnet's legs with her own. Garnet strained, arm trembling with the effort.
Breathed.
Tucked her legs and then kicked up into Willow's hips, up, out. Over.
Their flesh gnashed together like teeth in a hasty kiss. Willow almost forgot where her body started and where Garnet’s ended. For a moment, there was peace as the knife nicked at Garnet.
A peace, like most on the island, that wouldn’t last.
Willow noticed that something was wrong when Garnet’s eyes flickered. They were darting around like a cornered prey trying to escape. Willow prayed Garnet wouldn’t.This moment was good. She was enjoying it, and Garnet should be enjoying it too, because it was closure. A finale. The ending.
It was supposed to end right there, but it didn’t because Garnet didn’t enjoy it.
The foot solidly shoved itself in the center of Willow’s chest.
Garnet pushed once, then twice, then for a final time.
Something broke. The noise echoed in Willow’s head. She threw her hand forward, catching nothing but the miasma that had surrounded the island.
The stars looked weird at that angle.
The body - her body - turned.
And then, something broke again. There was blood in her mouth.
Finally, static had filled her brain.
A peace, like most on the island, that wouldn’t last.
Willow noticed that something was wrong when Garnet’s eyes flickered. They were darting around like a cornered prey trying to escape. Willow prayed Garnet wouldn’t.This moment was good. She was enjoying it, and Garnet should be enjoying it too, because it was closure. A finale. The ending.
It was supposed to end right there, but it didn’t because Garnet didn’t enjoy it.
The foot solidly shoved itself in the center of Willow’s chest.
Garnet pushed once, then twice, then for a final time.
Something broke. The noise echoed in Willow’s head. She threw her hand forward, catching nothing but the miasma that had surrounded the island.
The stars looked weird at that angle.
The body - her body - turned.
And then, something broke again. There was blood in her mouth.
Finally, static had filled her brain.