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lasttimeonthenegaverse · 2 years ago

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chapter four

Nega Morgana, because she could only be her Negaverse counterpart, stopped in surprise. Then her eyes clouded over. It was a weird form of off putting to see your own face morph and change without a mirror or watching a tape. “Who is that? Another new contender to be rid of?” Her voice was low and menacing even as it echoed off the walls.

“You know, I've had a very rough few days,” Morgana said, taking a deep breath. “Learned that an old friend was poisoning me, had a child try to kill me, had my powers stripped away, had that child stolen.” Thunder rolled around them. Listed out like that, well. Morgana always felt emotions a bit more vibrantly than some people. There was only so far whatever had been getting her through this could stretch. Like a rubber band, it snapped. The weather snapped with it.

A bolt of lavender lightning struck the pavement. Another crack of thunder sounded. For once in her life, the calculations were quick to run. The bubbles that held Gosalyn and Launchpad popped. They both floated, unharmed, to the ground. “Leave here and don’t return.”

Nega Morgana’s head tilted. She looked angry, eyes flashing. Lightning an unnatural blue streaked through the clouds far above. “How dare you. Who do you think you are, daring to tell me what to do? Suddenly appearing here out of nowhere with some flashy show of power?” She gestured around at the sudden clouds and lavender lightning that Morgana had unconsciously summoned.

That- That last part was exactly what her Negaverse counterpart had done. Yet she dared to accuse her of that. Suddenly she was not in the mood. Very not in the mood. Rain downpoured. The weather around them reacting to Morgana. It tinked off invisible barriers that covered Negaduck, Gosalyn, and Launchpad. Lavender lightning struck bare inches from the other Morgana’s face. “They. Are. Mine.”

Her counterpart’s expression turned challenging as she closed a fist. Electricity sparkled in the air. No one spoke in the sudden stretch of silence. Everything was still. Surroundings quiet as the tomb and air suffocating like they’d been thrust into the ocean. Even the thunder stopped dead. Only the rain continued. Silent and cold. The shields trembled under the torrent. Soon ice joined it. Small shards, glittering like crystal. Launchpad pulled his family closer. The shields didn’t break.

Finally the other her huffed. In that second the spell was broken. The air no longer felt suffocating and the three normals found themselves taking an involuntary breath as their lungs screamed. “Since you’re suddenly taken.” Her nose went skyward and her sash snapped out.

She disappeared in a cloud of electric blue.

Only once she was sure her Negaverse counterpart wouldn't return did Morgana stop the ice and rain. Gone with a splash like a crescendo. A sound with no build up. Gosalyn flinched slightly. The clouds broke, letting sun through. Morgana took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. When she turned Negaduck and Launchpad were staring at her. Launchpad let out a low whistle.

“That was impressive,” Launchpad said.

“I think she tried to kill us!” Gosalyn gasped finally, after her mouth had opened and closed for the fifth time. That witch had never dared try that before. Heck, Gosalyn still wasn't sure it wasn't all in her mind. But with the way all the oxygen had suddenly been sucked from the air around them like it’d never even been there to begin with. It had to be magical in nature. Apparently their Morgana was weaker than Darkwing’s. Because that's what she’d do if there was a more powerful contender for her daddy’s affection. Start to kill him. If she couldn't have him, then they couldn't either. Whether it be through them giving up to save him or him dying.

All the fire left Morgana’s eyes. Now she just looked sheepish. “She did.”

“What?” Negaduck barked. “That bitch-” A lot of people had tried to kill him in his life. His universe’s Morgana hadn't been one of them. The misplaced ownership she had on him had always protected him before. It had protected his family too, to an extent. Apparently their universe’s Morgana didn't mind risking everything to not lose.

“Sorry,” Morgana apologized. In the moment, most of her processes were focused on protecting them from her own weather-fury while she unleashed it on the other Morgana. She just couldn't split her attention enough to give them air, too. Thankfully that Morgana gave up before they passed out.

“Don't apologize,” Launchpad scoffed. “Bitch woulda done it sooner or later. Ya just sped the process.”

“What?” She yelped. “You really think she would've killed you?”

Gosalyn shrugged casually. “I would've.”

That- Well, it had been what she'd been dealing with for the past few weeks. Which hopefully that was done. After being kidnapped. Actually, now that she thought about it she'd been dealing with it for a year without even realizing it. Though Launchpad hadn't been trying to kill her. The point still was, though, that Morgana really hoped today ended the attempted murder. Because at this point she just wanted a break.

Gosalyn narrowed her eyes at Morgana. “Why’d you save us, anyway. You didn’t have to. I’ve been trying to kill you, you could’ve been done with us right here.”

“I've had worse,” Morgana said. She didn't elaborate on it. Not with the way Gosalyn’s green eyes shined suddenly. Having her immortal soul almost ripped away once was enough, thank you very much.

That didn't get much of a response outside an odd shared look between Negaduck and Launchpad.

The sky was on the cusp of dark. It wasn’t very hard for Chicago to find Morgana. Earlier in the day Launchpad had sent her a text. Morgana had made another attempt for Negaduck, though apparently she’d been more solidly rebuffed this time. More solidly than the past seventy two times this year. Apparently they’d gotten their own witch. After that, Morgana was most likely at home. Probably sulking that she’d never get Negaduck. Completely blind to the fact that he wasn’t worthy of her.

Chicago took a breath at the large door to Morgana’s home. This was her time. It would all change tonight. After so long, she’d get Morgana to actually notice her. She smiled and knocked. After a minute the door opened.

Green eyes looked through a crack in the door and Chicago straightened to her full height. She wasn't short by any means. But Morgana still had a good inch or two on her. Just enough to make her have to look up. The eyes looked her up and down. Scathing and (calculating? Possibly just skip to beautiful). Beautiful. They narrowed and the door opened fully.

Her hair was up, which was something rare to see. The dress she had on was elegant but looked less heavy and expensive than what Chicago usually saw her in. Like she was just getting ready for bed. “Chicago,” Morgana said, rolling her eyes up in contempt.

“Listen, I may be a ��normie’ but I’m still more fuckin’ magical than that married asshole,” Chicago said, pointing a finger toward Morgana and just barely tamping down her glare at the thought of Morgana’s infatuation with Negaduck to be softer than it normally would be.

Morgana leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over her chest. Briefly Chicago closed her eyes. Just long enough to take a calming breath. She wasn't used to hiding anything about herself. Not emotions or whims. It was easier to simply let things come as they might. But this was important and had to be handled with more care. “Come out with me later tonight, when the stars would be high.”

“I've denied you before what makes you think I won't again?”

The answer sat on her tongue but she bit it back. Chicago bent at the waist instead, offering up her palm as she bowed. “Just one evening, my lady. If it's not to your liking I'll leave you alone.

”Morgana raised an eyebrow. “You swear it?”

“I do.” Chicago looked at Morgana over her glasses with a smirk. This would win her. She was sure of it.

There was a place in this city. Built on an incline, up onto a hill. It was one of the city's highest points and it sat away from almost everything else. The place was mostly devoid of buildings and completely absent of man made light as well, now that Chicago had burnt it all to the ground. In her own circle of broken buildings, melted glass, and ash. The perfect spot to show her lady the night sky; a sight that only just compared to her.

With a satisfied smile Chicago removed her mask. It wasn't something she'd ever actually needed. Her twin had seen to that. But the mask gave her an air of danger. Something intimidating to anyone who might see her as she lit her flames. A sharp, skeletal smile on a bed of red as flames licked brown eyes golden. These flames died long ago.

Glass that still gave a faint glow, warmed by gentle embers under it, sat beside her boot. It was thick and round, a tube with the tip heated. She picked it up. With gentle fingers she felt around the glow. Just to see how solid it was. The glass was soft, on the way to firming, and she took out her lighter to soften it a touch more before she pinched some glass between her fingers and pulled. The action was repeated and occasionally she rewarmed it, until she held a rose in her hand. With her mask gone her smile was clear. Small and pleased. Carefully she touched her lips to the petals so she didn't disturb her work as it cooled slowly in the air.

Later, when she presented the glass rose to Morgana, the stars reflected in the petals like galaxies in the ocean. Something soft shone in Morgana’s eyes when she took the rose and Chicago’s heart beat with pride. “Where did you get this?”

“I made it,” Chicago answered.

“It's gorgeous,” Morgana said and brought the glass rose up to her beak, placing the rose gently against it.

“Next to you it's nothing.”

Morgana gave a small smile and looked up at the sky. Her hair cascaded down her back, a waterfall of white over the sky of her dress. Like clouds high in the sky. Chicago reached out but clenched her hand into a fist before she could touch her. How anybody actually exercised patience was a mystery to her. It was painful. Distasteful. How she'd even managed it back when she was a kid, Chicago didn't know. (Yes she did. Back then she had something more important than the wait. Right now, she felt this desire outweighed the wait too.)

“The view is better higher up.”

“Lead the way.”

At the top of the hill Chicago had a blanket laid out with a basket of stolen baked goods next to it and a glass jar of lactose free milk. (She knew about the milk because of her twin. It lasted longer and tasted faintly of vanilla. Plus she didn't know if Morgana was lactose intolerant like her twin or not and didn't want to risk ending the date badly.)

Almost primly Morgana sat on the blanket. Chicago raised an eyebrow and held in half a laugh. It was still caught and Morgana turned an unimpressed look her way.

“Something to say?” The words were stiff.

“No,” Chicago smiled. “You're just so graceful in everything you do. I've never met anyone like that.” And she plopped down next to her, graceless. While it wasn't to accentuate her point, it did and Morgana seemed to relax again. “So, you want food?”

“That would be fine.”

They ate together for the first time on that hill. As Morgana watched the stars and traced the constellations, Chicago watched her. When they were done, Morgana picked the rose back up. Another shot of pride went through Chicago. That had been just another impulse, making that rose. She's glad it worked. Morgana spun the glass between her index and thumb. It made the stars swirl between the petals. A small smile curled Chicago’s snout. Warmth filled her chest, and she felt the desire to reach out again. To take and not ask.

She had to ask.

Was it time, though? Did it matter? Back with Tricksie, it was easier. ‘Time’ was their eighteenth birthday. ‘Time’ was when they finally made it out of that orphanage and she was no longer under the threat of being ripped from her twin, the only family she had. The only person she cared about. She cared about more people now, though. Tricksie, Eos- though she could be a bitch, Haiden- though she could be insufferable. And Morgana. Her lady. Who would be her lady, of her own volition. Chicago stood up and turned to her. Morgana raised her eyes to her. It was odd, to look down on the witch.

“He’s not worthy of you,” Chicago said.

Morgana looked at her and raised a single, elegant eyebrow. The glass rose twirled in her long fingers. “And you are?”

“Yes,” Chicago answered with full conviction. “I’m willing to give you every drop of attention and affection you deserve. I’m willing and able to get you anything you could possibly want.”

Something flickered in Morgana’s eyes. Something that Chicago couldn’t read. “That sounds like a proposal.”

Chicago’s blood ran cold. Had it? That'd never been her intention. She pushed down the sudden voice in her head telling her to flee and held out a hand. “It was just an offer.”

Surprisingly, Morgana took it. “I think I'd like to decide for myself if you're worthy or not.”

Launchpad checked his phone when his text tone went off. It was a short message, marked ‘44’. “She's mine.” He raised an eyebrow at that. So, she'd finally gotten Morgana to say yes? A short smile curved his beak. Good. That bitch was finally outta their hair. Maybe now things would calm down a little, even if they lost their best way of keepin’ track of time. “Hey Morg, ya think ya can make a gift basket? I have someone ta congratulate.”

“Oh?” Morgana questioned.

“Jus’ a friend of mine,” Launchpad said, flipping the phone closed. “Took care ‘o something I needed done. Somethin’ she really wanted.”

Morgana frowned at him curiously, eyebrows drawn together.

Though this Launchpad had a lot about himself that she still didn’t understand. Of course, she'd only been there… a few months? Between everything, it felt like longer. Mysteriously, it also felt shorter. So she shrugged. And made a basket of food. It was better her anyhow- they wanted a congratulations, not a funeral. If she let anyone else do it they'd surely get the latter.

For a while after that, the attempts on her life actually stopped. Morgana was kind of impressed. And more than pleased. Maybe she'd finally been accepted by this Gosalyn. (It'd taken a while with her own, too. Despite her Gos’ obvious fascination with her magic.) Until the brownies.

The brownies weren't anything big. They were chocolate. Burnt around the edges, yet still gooey in the middle. Honestly somehow on the cusp of undercooked. And also made with atropa belladonna. Deadly nightshade. Not immediately fatal. Certainly not fatal to her. But it was enough to let her know something.

The comment she'd made? A hair less than two weeks ago? ‘I've had worse’? Gosalyn took that comment as a challenge. Morgana had known this Gosalyn and her own long enough to confidently say, she wasn't that surprised. Honestly, she thought as she chewed a burnt edge, I should've known better. And she wasn’t sure what it said about her either, that she’d grown used to the attempts on her life. Because here she was, eating half baked brownies and absently considering what she might have to put up with in the coming days. Not an ounce of worry in her. Just a tired acceptance.

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