#CI S1 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

frostfires-blog · 1 year ago

Text

Tiān Guān Cì Fú Hanakotoba Analysis Part 2

◤━━━━━━━━━◥𐀔◤━━━━━━━━━◥

-> 4) Lotus/Water Lily

Despite having a few distinguishing characteristics, lotuses (Nelumbo nucifera) and water lilies (Nymphaea) are frequently mistaken for one another. As a result of this, their symbolic meanings frequently overlap to the point where they have the same connotations across certain cultures. Thus, for the duration of this post, I shall use both names interchangeably. In China, lotuses are known as lián huā (蓮花) or hé huā (荷花) while water lilies are known as shuìlián (睡莲) and héhuā (荷花). They are renowned as the gentleman's flower since they grow upwards pure and unstained from the mud. As a result of how it grows, this flower is associated with endurance, elegance, resilience, triumph over adversity and ultimate purity of mind and heart in China. The lotus is considered a sacred flower, embodying the essence of divine beauty and grace. It is also a symbol of moral integrity, emphasising the importance of maintaining inner purity and virtuous behaviour in the face of worldly temptations. In China, part of the lotus flower’s Chinese name “l蓮” (lián) is homophonous with the words “聯” (lián) meaning “to bind/connect as in marriage”; “戀” (liàn) meaning to love; and “廉” (lián) meaning modesty. This has resulted in the lotus flower symbolizing love, marriage and unions in Chinese culture. The lotus is thus a common motif in poetry, from the Tang and Song dynasties to contemporary works, and it is used to express love, convey feelings, and reflect on the state of humanity. A single stalk bearing two lotus flowers symbolises the yearning for harmony and a shared heart. This was derived from the fact that the “荷” (hé) in the lotus flower’s other Chinese name also means “union” and is homophonous with the word “和” (hé) meaning uninterrupted or one after another. In addition to this, a lotus bloom complete with a leaf and bud represents a complete union. Water lilies are often used in bridal bouquets because they are considered a lucky charm and symbol of 100 years of love in China. The word “l蓮” (lián) also sounds similar to “連續” (liánxù) which means continuous. This conveys the idea of constant growth and spiritual progress thus making the lotus a symbol of the continuous pursuit of knowledge, wisdom, and enlightenment. Lotus flowers symbolize purity, wisdom, peace, perfection, humility, enlightenment and rebirth in various Asian cultures because of their strong connection to Buddhism. The lotus is commonly used as a metaphor for the path to enlightenment in Buddhist literature. In the same way, as lotuses arise from the murky depths of ponds and lakes, pure and uncontaminated by the pollutants of their surroundings, so too are humans capable of rising above the obstacles and temptations of the outside world to achieve enlightenment and spiritual purity. The lotus is compared to the pure soul in South Asian Ismaili literature. There is a poem that highlights the beauty of the lotus, noting how its delicate white petals remain pure and attractive despite their murky surroundings. Similarly, a pure soul is both part of and not of this world, much like the lotus's surroundings. The lotus has deep symbolic meaning in Taoism, such as representing peace, balance, and the interaction of the natural and human worlds. It is a strong metaphor for the "interconnectedness of all things and the inherent harmony within the universe". The serene beauty of the lotus flower and its adaptability to many environments are representative of the Taoist concept of living in harmony with the natural order of things, flowing with life's rhythms, and maintaining balance in the face of change. In Taoist philosophy, the lotus is also connected to transcendence and immortality. Its enduring cycle of life, death, and rebirth is symbolised by its capacity to regenerate and blossom year after year in spite of the changing seasons. The lotus is a representation of transcendence and spiritual development that guides individuals towards a state of inner immortality and connection with the divine.

In Japan, lotuses are called ren (蓮) or hasu (はす) while water lilies are called suiren (睡蓮). In hanakotoba, lotuses symbolise eloquence, detached love, sacredness and a pure heart. They are also associated with rebirth, purity, transformation, renewal, spiritual enlightenment and resurrection as well as beauty, grace and perfection. In hanakotoba, water lilies symbolise a pure heart, faith and trust. In Western floriography, water lilies symbolize purity of the heart, virtue, innocence, achieving great things, beauty rising from humble beginnings and bringing together separate things. Pink waterlilies in particular are often associated with feelings of admiration. Since its scientific name was derived from the Greek nymph, water lilies while a symbol of beauty also has a dangerous side in addition to being a symbol of unity and balance. Lotuses can also symbolize estranged love as well as eloquence in floriography.

Despite a certain someone’s trials and attempts to corrupt Xie Lian in order to mould him into a perfect successor, the latter remained firm in his beliefs—"I just won’t change! Even if it’s painful I won’t change, Eve if I die, I won’t change, I will never change!” (MXTX, p. 1937). This ties in with the lotus flower’s symbolism of “rising above obstacles and temptations of the world to reach enlightenment and spiritual purity”, “triumph over adversity” and “maintaining balance in face of change” as well as “ultimate purity of mind and heart”. The lotus flower’s symbolic meanings of humility, virtue, resilience and constant growth complement Xie Lian’s character after his third ascension while its meanings of perfection, divine beauty, grace, and purity complement his character before and during his first ascension. The lotus flower’s symbolic meanings of perfection, virtue, divine beauty, grace, and purity complement his character before and during his first ascension while its meanings of humility, wisdom, resilience and constant growth complement Xie Lian’s character after his third ascension. The lotus is a highly revered flower in both Taoism and Buddhism, and both have served as inspiration for the basis of Tiān Guān Cì Fú’s complex setting and lore. The lotus flower’s symbol meanings of “transcendence and immortality”, “divine beauty and grace”, “unity and balance”, “the cycle of life, death and rebirth” as well as “rising above obstacles and temptations of the world to reach enlightenment and spiritual purity” are all recurring motifs in Tiān Guān Cì Fú. Additionally, the lotus’ symbolism of longstanding love and feelings of admiration tie into Hua Cheng and Xie Lian’s relationship. A single stem bearing two lotus flowers denotes a desire for harmony and a shared heart. To share someone’s heart is to completely understand, accept and support them. Xie Lian professes his desire to understand Hua Cheng—"I want to understand your everything" (MXTX, p. 943)—while Hua Cheng states at the end of the book, "I understand your everything. Your courage, your despair, your kindness, your pain, your resentment, your hate, your intelligence, your foolishness” (MXTX, p. 1953). Xie Lian is completely enamoured by Hua Cheng and wants to be someone he can confide in and rely on. While Hua Cheng not only adores Xie Lian but fully understands him and accepts every part of him. As a heavenly official and a supreme ghost king respectively, Xie Lian and Hua Cheng's union brings together the heavenly and ghost realms—which embodies the lotus' symbolism of unity, balance and bringing together separate things. Throughout various cultures, the water lilies and lotuses repeatedly symbolize gracefully overcoming adversity as well as embodying the essence of divine beauty and grace; because they grow pure and unstained by the mud in which they grow. This sentiment is reminiscent of one of the most famous quotes in Tiān Guān Cì Fú which was said by both Xie Lian and Hua Cheng—“The one standing in infinite glory is you; the one fallen from grace is also you. What matters is ‘you’ and not the state of you” (MXTX, p. 943 & 1438 & 1930).

-> 5) Autumn Ginkgo & Maple Trees

In the scene wherein Xie Lian meets “San Lang” for the first time, there are Ginkgo (Ginkgo biloba) and Maple trees (Acer) present in the background. Their vibrantly coloured leaves cascade onto the pair as they converse, creating a picturesquely autumnal setting. A ginkgo tree is also present in the scene where Xie Lian speaks to other heavenly officials via the communication array while maple trees are featured in many pieces of official artwork for the donghua.

5.1) Ginkgo

Ginkgo trees are known as yínxìng (銀杏 ) in China and are the country’s national tree. In Chinese culture, ginkgo trees are highly symbolic of longevity, endurance, resiliency, and hope. The ginkgo's symbolic meaning is said to be derived from the tree’s ability to survive under the harshest conditions as well as its long lifespan. When displayed as a single tree, it stands for strength and solitude. In Japan, ginkgo trees are called ginkyo (銀杏) and symbolise magnificence, longevity, requiem, strength, hope and peace in hanakotoba. In Western floriography, ginkgo trees symbolise solemnity, longevity and requiem. The beauty and symbolism of the ginkgo tree are valued by many European cultures, who associate it with power, resilience, human progress, enlightenment, and memory enhancement. The ginkgo tree also represents renewal as shows off a magnificent colour display each autumn as it sheds its leaves to sprout new ones. Even if he denies it—"Don’t think someone overly perfect... If it’s just watching a shadow from afar and never having to interact, then whatever. But once acquainted and grown close, you will find that this person was not what you had imagined; maybe the complete opposite. When that happens, you will be completely disappointed” (MXTX, p. 445)—Xie Lian embodies the qualities of hope, peace, strength, and resiliency. Hua Cheng, on the other hand, sees Xie Lian as the embodiment of hope—"You never know. I don't care if anyone else is disappointed. But to some, the very existence of a certain person in this world is in itself, hope” (MXTX, p. 445). Which encapsulates the symbolic meanings of the Ginkgo tree: strength, hope, resilience, peace, and perseverance.

5.2) Maple

“Looking up they were traversing through a maple grove, a sea of flaming red in a field of green. The rustic charm of the mountainous countryside, with fresh grass that refreshed the mind, was extremely intoxicating. But, Xie Lian could not help but give a slight start. A long time ago, in his youth, when he cultivated at the Royal Holy Pavilion, the entire mountain of maple was like this: shimmering like gold, intense like fire. The unforgettable sight before him now inevitably took him on a trip down memory lane” (MXTX, p. 117). Maple trees are known as fēngshù (楓樹) in China and primarily represent the passage of time and seasonal change. Furthermore, maple trees have traditionally been associated with abundance and positive energy in Chinese Feng Shui. These trees are thought to denote growth and prosperity. This is partly because red is considered an auspicious colour in China and is thought to bring good luck and happiness. Maple leaves and bark are also frequently used as materials in Taoist spells for drawing out courage, wealth and luck as well as for healing and attracting love. The maple tree is also a symbol of enduring love since it is frequently associated with loyalty and durability. Hence, maple leaves are connected to marriage and love in China. In Japan, maple trees are known as kaede (楓) and symbolize precious memories, restraint and beautiful change in hanakotoba. In addition to this, they also symbolize endurance, strength, resilience, transformation and change. The reason why maple trees are associated with change and transformation is because their leaves change colour with the seasons, morphing from green to yellow, orange, and red. This vibrant range of colors also represents the passing of the seasons, the changing nature of life as well as the beauty and fragility of life. In Japanese culture, the maple tree's five-lobed leaf is a representation of wealth and good fortune. Throughout various Asian cultures, maple trees are associated with persistence and stability, expression and passion, power and regality, endurance and strength as well as determination and resilience. In Western floriography, maple trees are associated with peace, serenity, reservedness, unity, humility, strength, endurance, balance, wisdom, and promise as well as seasonal change and new beginnings. The maple tree has also been utilised as a symbol of passion and desire in literature and art. Its vivid, crimson autumnal leaves represent the intensity of love, while its sturdy roots represent the deep bond between two individuals. While the tree's ability to endure adverse weather represents the tenacity and endurance required in romantic partnerships. Maple trees have been used as an enduring symbol of the transformational power of love in several literary and artistic works. Although roses and doves are more commonly linked with love, maple trees perfectly encapsulate the intense emotion and raw intensity of love. Red maple trees are one of Tiān Guān Cì Fú’s signature motifs because of their use during the scene where Xie Lian meets San Lang—“The cart was driving through the forest of flaming red maples, where maple leaves danced their way to the ground. A leaf playfully landed on the shoulder of the youth, and he blew it off softly, then looked up at Xie Lian, speaking with a shadow of a smile” (MXTX, p. 119). As a result, the use of maple trees in this scene greatly contributes to the romantic atmosphere. Hua Cheng's tremendous devotion to Xie Lian is foreshadowed by the maple tree's connotation of passionate, enduring love and devotion. Considering red is Hua Cheng's signature colour, having Xie Lian surrounded by a veritable sea of red sets the intimate cosy ambience needed for this scene.

-> 6) Red Spider Lily

The red spider lily (Lycoris radiata) is known as mànzhūshāhuá (曼珠沙華) or the bǐ'ànhuā (彼岸花) in China and is a symbol of autumn. The flower is also regarded as a symbol of both death and rebirth. Red spider lilies are described as flowers that grow in hell in the Lotus Sutra. As a result of this, certain Buddhist traditions in China and Japan believe that these flowers aid spirits in crossing from the afterlife into reincarnation. The red spider lily also represents beauty because of its vivid, vibrant red blossoms, which give a sense of elegance. In Chinese culture, the red spider lily has a long history and is commonly associated with death and funerals. It is considered bad luck in some parts of China to keep this plant in your home since it is thought to attract ghosts. The flower's sad symbolism for loss and parting is based on an ancient Chinese legend about two elves, Saka and Manju, who were the guardians of leaves and flowers, respectively. They could never meet, however, because the red spider lily never sprouts flowers and leaves at the same time. They both yearned to meet one another, and they violated the gods in order to do so. The gods punished them harshly for this and separated them for eternity. The flower is still associated with loss, both of loved ones and of memories. In Japan, these flowers are known as higanbana (彼岸花) which means autumn equinox flower. They represent sad memories, resignation, independence, lost memory, abandonment, passion and those who are never to meet again in Japanese hanakotoba. The red spider lily is also associated with death, goodbyes, rebirth and the far shore (land of the dead). The red spider lily's symbolic meaning of farewells and rebirth is embodied in classic Japanese artworks depicting mythological situations, where they are referred to as the "flowers of heaven.“ In Japan, there is a strong correlation between the Buddhist and Shinto religions and red spider lilies. These striking flowers are thought to represent rebirth and the transience of life. They are also believed to guide the deceased's spirits transition to the afterlife. They are frequently observed blossoming next to cemeteries or other holy locations. They are also thought to have protective properties that shield against negative energy and evil spirits. Red spider lilies are also thought to symbolise the boundary between life and death in Japanese culture. This is because its flowers bloom during autumnal equinox when Japanese Buddhists believe that deceased people's spirits return to the near shore (the world of the living). Some legends claim that when an individual crosses paths with someone they will never see again, red spider lilies blossom alongside their path. These legends are partly responsible for the flower's affinity with final goodbyes, in addition to its association with death and the hereafter. Despite their frequent association with death and parting, red spider lilies are also admired for their beauty and resilience. They can survive in a range of challenging environments, including rocky and riverside locations, and their vivid red hue helps them stand out against the surrounding scenery. As a result of this, these flowers can also be seen as a symbol of strength and perseverance in the face of adversity.

Red Spider Lilies greatly complement Hua Cheng as only only are they his signature colour but are also associated with death, rebirth, longing, parting, loss and passion which are all traits associated with him. Hua Cheng has effectively died three times and has come back three times which ties into the flower’s association with the transience of life, death and rebirth. Red spider lilies are also seen as a symbol of passion, strength and perseverance in the face of adversity which fits Hua Cheng’s character. In some official artwork such as the one shown above, red spider lilies are associated with Ghost City. This is fitting considering the red spider lilies symbolise the boundary between life and death whereas Ghost City is said to be “the most prosperous place within the ghost realm, situated right at the crossroads of the mortal and ghost realms” (MXTX, p. 287).

◣━━━━━━━━━◢𐀔◣━━━━━━━━━◢

╰┈➤ Part 1 ✿

╰┈➤ Anime Hanakotoba Posts Directory

[Forgive me if I missed anything; I attempted to include everything featured in the donghua, novel and official artwork. There was a lot I wanted to say, but I could not articulate it all as eloquently as I wanted to… I wanted to go all out for this while also keeping it as brief as possible… So, forgive me if this is just tons of gibberish. I always find that I can say and write a lot about the things I like but always find myself inadequate when speaking and writing about the things I truly love. Hopefully, I did this masterpiece justice.

If you liked this post, check out my other hanakotoba analysis posts... Also, if I've gotten any of the kanji, romaji, hanzi or pinyin incorrect, feel free to correct me]

74 notes · View notes

notstinky · 11 months ago

Text

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The Creamatorium PARTIES: Van (@vanoincidence) & Thea (@notstinky) SUMMARY: Van and Thea get ice cream! A man is there :( CONTENT WARNINGS: Unsanitary tw, Harassment, Body horror

Thea smoothed out the wrinkles in her brown skirt, understanding only at the fifth wipe that it was a pleated skirt and that it wasn’t meant to be smoothed. She’d tried to dress up—not that she really understood what dressing up meant, for her, fashion was a second thought—but all she’d managed to do was a skirt and a sweater. It wasn’t exactly seasonal; what kind of maniac wore a knee-length skirt in the cold parts of autumn? It wasn’t exactly cute; her gray knit sweater was fine and all but it bundled at her stomach, making her look like she had a suspicious bulge. She’d tried to accessorize; all she had was a fake-silver necklace with a crescent moon that made her stomach churn at the sight of. And all this for Van. Van, her friend, who she wanted to look nice for. She smoothed the skirt again, made sure her hat covered her bald head, and cursed under her breath.

“Hey!” She waved, more aggressive than she’d meant to, when Van popped up over the horizon. It wasn’t that Van was late, it was that Thea had come so early people asked her if she was okay, standing outside of the shop like that. She probably looked like a criminal, nervously bouncing on her heels. Did criminals wear skirts? Well, she was a killer and she wore a skirt; question answered. “Hey, you’re just in time! I just got here,” she lied, palms already coated in a thin layer of sweat. Suddenly it struck her: what did you say to a friend? How are you? You look good? What flavor are you thinking of? Instead, what came out was: “You look flavor, ho.” Thea winced. She gestured at the seasonal flavor—dairy free pumpkin butter chocolate—which was not a flavor combination she thought worked, but was one she was excited to try. “That, um..” She gulped. “You, um, look…” Forget it. She’d already failed. What was the point?

Van hadn’t really been able to take a lot of things from home before it had gotten all covered in a weird goo, but for some reason, her locker at Sly Slice was stuffed to the brim with a variety of different outfits she didn’t even remember taking from home. It was luck, probably. Probably an action from a few months ago she couldn’t really remember. It didn’t matter, she decided, because at least she had some clothes and didn’t have to wear the same things that Thea had already seen her in. Buying new clothes was certainly on the table, but that was expensive. Maybe borrowing from either Nora or Cass would have worked, too, especially since they’d borrowed enough from her, but it felt wrong– like she was asking too much. Still, as she watched Thea walk up in her pleated skirt and grey sweater, she felt severely underdressed. She wore baggy cargo jeans that had deep pockets, and a baby tee with a pastel frown-y face on it. The hoody she wore had holes in the sleeve, but she figured it’d look like it’d been done on purpose and not because she’d become overly obsessive with picking at the fabric.

She crossed the distance between them, a nervous smile playing at the corners of her lips as she lifted her own hand in greeting. It was lucky that Dr. Kavanagh had given Thea permission to stay over, but both of them still had things like work and other commitments. Mostly, Van was trying to scrounge up spare PC parts throughout town so that she could start rebuilding the one she’d lost. “Rocky was like, really slow with the delivery trucks this morning, so he asked me for help.” She was weak, and it showed– she could barely lift a box as it was, but somehow had managed to help him anyway. “Sorry I’m uh–” She blinked at Thea’s words before a laugh bubbled in her chest, spilling over between where they stood across from one another. “You look flavor, ho, too.” She wasn’t sure what that meant. Maybe it was a Canadian thing. She’d need to look it up later, she decided. Her attention was drawn to the sign that Thea motioned towards before she looked out of the corner of her eye to her friend. Her stomach bubbled with anxiety and she tried her best to push it down. She wasn’t sure why it was there– this was just ice cream with a friend, after all. She swallowed thickly and nodded before her gaze wandered over the additional flavors. Van winced slightly at the sight of the Allgood Death Pit flavor. “The pumpkin one, that looks good– you look good, too. I like your sweater.” Van paused before adding, “and your necklace– it’s cute, it looks um, it looks good on you.” She wasn’t sure what to do with her hands, so she stuck them into her pockets. “Should we… go inside?”

“No….” Thea groaned, face burning as her cheeks erupted in red blotches. “Don’t tell me I look flavor, ho.” She tried to sink into her sweater, praying that the floor would suddenly get hungry and eat her specifically. She thought about running; if Van had a long, tiring shift, she wouldn’t be able to catch her. Then, she’d leave Wicked’s Rest, change her name (again) and reinvent herself as someone that didn’t mix up her words. She rolled the idea over in her head but no matter how desperate she was to escape, her legs rooted her in place and her stomach fluttered with excitement just as much as it twisted with anxiety. They hadn’t even tried anything yet and she already felt nauseous. “I like—um, your cargo jeans. They look like they can hold a lot of stuff. Like, spoons.” God, spoons? Why did she say that? Run, run, run, run— “T-the necklace?” Thea touched it, digging the flesh of her thumb into the crescent moon tip, as if she didn’t remember putting it on. “It, um, it was the first thing I bought when I came to America, actually.” When she’d woken up across the border, was lucky enough to meet an elderly couple that took care of her and discovered that silver ought to help her “condition”; turned out to be fake silver, of course. That was the kind of luck Thea had.

Thea wanted to say more, her mouth moved around imaginary words, but nothing left. “Yeah,” she squeaked. “Let’s go inside!” She reached for Van’s arm, interlocking them as she had that day with the LEGOs—that day had gone well and she needed all possible good luck right now. It was a spell and it would summon the vibes that followed them that day. At the doctor’s apartment, it wasn’t so terrible—mostly they were working and tired—but outside was a whole new place with whole new problems. “Do you mind sharing? I think it might be best to get a couple of flavors? And then we can rank them!” She smiled and then frowned, brows knitting together. “Or is that stupid? Should we just stick to our own stuff?”

“But you do, you do look flavor ho.” Van was used to being on the other end of teasing, but this felt natural. It felt right. If Thea were actually upset about it though, she’d drop it. She made a mental note to ask her friend what the hell that meant later. She looked down at her pockets and nodded, an appreciative smile pulling at the corners of her lips as Thea commented on her pants. “They can hold spoons, forks, knives– well, not knives. I’m not allowed to have knives.” It was something she still adhered to even though nobody was around anymore to tell her she couldn’t have knives. Maybe it was stupid. Van stuck her hands into her pockets and pulled them to the side to show Thea just how much space was in them. She leaned down slightly (though she didn’t have to go very far) and poked her fingers towards the end of the seam. “See? A lot of space in here, especially for um, spoons and stuff.” Maybe Thea really liked spoons. Her attention shifted back to the way Thea pulled at her necklace, fingers feathering over the dainty chain and emblem. “Really? That’s cool. Welcome to the United States, here’s a moon.” She shrugged, “the moon– she’s gay, right? So I mean, that’s a cool thing to get.” They’d discussed it before, but Van still felt heat rise to the back of her neck at the comment.

She wasn’t really sure what to do with her hands by then, but Thea had made the move first, arm threading through her own. It brought her back to their LEGO adventure, though it had severely lacked any LEGOs at all. Van fell into the familiarity of it, and fell into a natural step beside Thea, too. “We can definitely share. I could probably eat it all myself, but that doesn’t mean I should.” Too much sugar could give her stomach aches, but hopefully if it were dairy-free, they’d be okay. Van looked over at Thea, her own smile still present on her features. The way Thea seemed worried that maybe she wouldn’t like the suggestion made Van wonder if she’d done something to make her friend believe that was the case. “No, we can! I want to, and I want to rank them all.” She looked towards the menu board, then to the middle aged man that was standing behind the counter with a blank expression on his features. He looked bored out of his mind. “Hi– yeah, we’re lactose intolerant. What do you think would be good? For us, since we can’t have, you know, milk.” She bit the inside of her cheek before shooting Thea a glance out of the corner of her eye.

Van must have been humoring her and yet, Thea found her fraught nerves temporarily parted. She smiled softly, chewing on her bottom lip. She imagined an army of forks, spoons and knives sitting in Van’s pockets and giggled. “Yes,” she agreed, “the moon’s gay and the ocean is her lover. I mean, what are tides if not, like, the ocean telling the moon that she loves her?” Thea wasn’t a poetic person; there was something there about devotion, yearning, being vast and crushingly deep and pulled by some bright rock in the sky. When Thea thought of love, she pictured moons and oceans, suns and planets—gravity. Her mind was lost, soothed by the current of Van’s voice—agreeing with her—and she didn’t notice the man. At once, though, she smelt him; sourness plunged into her nostrils and she recoiled.

He opened his mouth, revealing a set of yellowing teeth framed by plaque. His bloodshot eyes didn’t focus on them at first, his gaze shifted between spots on the wall before it settled exactly on the point where Thea and Van’s arms met. And that, more than anything, made him smile wider as the rest of his face remained dead around it. “What can I get you two…” His tongue traced the edge of his dry lips, saliva pooled between the cracks. “...lovely ladies?” He held on to the syllables as if he didn’t want the words to go. His gaze remained low.

Thea stiffened. She pulled forward, setting more distance between Van and the counter as if something--or someone--could leap across and touch her. Her voice rose into a rare, authoritative steadiness. “All of the dairy-free flavors, please. A kid’s scoop of each in cups, please.” With her body clenched into one solid mass, she watched as he ran a hand through his graying, slicked hair before he plunged his arm into the vats of ice cream.

His eyes finally flicked up to their faces and there was something more amusing there than their arms, his dead smile twitched. “Yeah, good choice.” He licked his lips again. “A lot of you people are lactose intolerant.”

“Most people are lactose intolerant, yeah,” Thea said, tearing her eyes away from the ice cream stuck to his arm hairs and pulling Van towards the register. “My treat,” she whispered to her friend, forcing a small smile. The presence of the man was overwhelming to her, and even as her gaze trained somewhere else, he loomed as large, white stain in the corner of her eyes. The air felt tight; unpleasant interactions weren’t uncommon, but they always made her stomach settle into a heavy knot. She was determined not to let it ruin their fun and once they were sitting down, he couldn’t bother them anyway. “I think I’m realizing now that that’s a lot of ice cream.” Dairy-free also included sorbets, which wasn’t technically ice cream, but Thea wasn’t going to argue semantics over dessert.

Thea had given Van a lot to think about. In most fandom spaces, people made personifications of the moon and ocean and how it related back to their favorite form of media, so she knew that Thea was on the right track with that. Silently, she started to build out who she thought was the moon and who was the ocean— then, of course, there was the sun. The sun could’ve been seen as something in opposition to the moon, Van thought. Briefly, Van heard her grandmother’s voice, if you gave as much thought to anything else as you do those video games, I wouldn’t worry so much. Van frowned, but it was only for a brief moment. The man behind the counter who she really hadn’t paid all that much attention to brought her back to the present.

It was an unfortunate setting, she realized. It took everything in her not to recoil as she finally took him in. Van pressed her arm into Thea’s, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck rise. The man In front of her incited the same feeling Debbie had, only in place of a knife and threats was an ice cream scoop and thinly veiled insults. She didn’t like the way that he looked at them, and it was obvious that Thea didn’t either. Van wasn’t much for noticing changes in demeanor, but the way Thea went stiff next to her couldn’t have been a good sign. Thea provided the order they had agreed upon, voice steady and even, unlike it had been outside of the shop. Van wondered what changed. She cast a careful glance to the man behind the counter who, if a gust of wind blew in, looked like he might crumple beneath the weight of it.

Van worked in food service, and she knew it was wrong to touch any part of yourself before distributing the goods, as Rocky put it. Sure, it was his hair, but if she found a single strand in her ice cream, she was going to be pissed. She noticed the lack of gloves, too, which wasn’t the only thing to make her stomach jolt in protest at the thought of eating it. She didn’t want to judge, not based on looks alone, but the next words that came out of his mouth made her bite down on her cheek hard enough to draw blood.

Before she could say anything, Thea was stealing the words right out of her mouth. Van held onto Thea’s arm as if some kind of lifeline, following her to the register. “Are you sure?” Van asked, barely above a whisper. She looked towards the man as he filled another cup. Van hated that this man was serving them, hated that he was making Thea feel uncomfortable, and even though he was making her feel uncomfortable, too, Thea mattered most here. The topic of it being too much ice cream made Van shake her head. “We can make room in the freezer.” She cleared her throat. “And it’s not my fault I’m lactose intolerant, by the way. I was literally born this way.”

The man lifted his gaze to them again and Van felt dumb for talking loud enough for him to hear. Almost immediately, he was turning his attention back to the ice cream, filling the cups they had requested. “We can um, go halfsies?” Van bumped Thea lightly, a forced smile curling at the corners of her lips. She wouldn’t let this nasty guy ruin this for her. She and Thea were supposed to be having fun, not be grossed out by some hairy man behind the counter of somewhere they wanted to order from.

She hadn’t noticed it, but the cups had been slid to the register’s stainless steel countertop and the man cleared his throat. “We don’t do splits here. It’s all or nothing.” The yellow of his teeth was even more apparent up close, especially as he leaned closer to them. She could smell sugar and cigarettes and it made her stomach roll. Van took a small step back, tugging Thea slightly with her. “I’ll pay you back later.” She just wanted out at this point.

Thea felt like she’d been dealing with strange, uncomfortable men all her life. Some of that was just the experience of living, most of it was the experience of living in her feminine body, with her feminine presenting ways. It was her father that taught her the fear at first: never be alone with a man, never speak to one, her father made her stay on the phone with him when she walked home from school. Everyday, as Toronto’s primary news station CP24 whispered in the background of their crumbling home, he’d shake his head at all the crime, pointing it out to her. See, look, see, this is why I worry, this is why it isn’t safe, listen to me--he never said it out loud, but Thea knew by then how to read his frowns. She learned to fear mundane things: smiles, nights, buses, alleys, parties, malls, homes.

But as she grew older, that was just the issue. It was hard to explain why this man bothered her; what had he really done so far other than scoop some ice cream? Wasn’t she being ridiculous? Wasn’t she overly sensitive? And if he did something, if--well, didn’t she get a ‘vibe’ from him? Why didn’t she notice sooner? Why didn’t she leave? Why didn’t she say something? Thea knew all too well the uphill battle of safety. There was an odd comfort in knowing Van was tense beside her, that she understood and felt the same. She wasn’t being sensitive, sometimes people really were just like this. They’d be okay. They had each other. Thea would make sure they were okay, she’d send him away if she had to; she’d make a scene, she’d kick, she’d scream, she’d throw ice cream back at his unkempt, wrinkly face.

He placed the cups of ice cream on the counter, licking his lips as he tapped the total into his computer. Thea paid before he could ask her about it. She wanted to cut him off, cancel his presence out, crop him out of their day. “Do you need help with--” He started. “No,” Thea answered back quickly, nudging Van to help with the cups. She could practically hear his thoughts, watching his face crinkle from the corner of her gaze: prickly, I was just trying to help, damn okay, bitch. Her insides burned. “How about the booth in the corner?” She forced a smile, scurrying off before she knew it was okay.

She set the cups down in a rush, hands trembling. She wasn’t scared, actually, Thea noticed she felt strangely hungry. Her teeth itched; she felt like biting into a rare steak. She threw herself into the corner, digging into the chocolate fudge--surprisingly creamy for dairy-free.

“So, are you two on a date?” The man appeared at their table, sticking his ice cream fingers into his mouth, saliva dripping from his cracked lips. He grinned like something was funny. This time, his attention was focused on Van.

The transaction was complete and Van nearly let out a sigh of relief. She was used to picking up multiple items– she did it at work all the time. With several of the cups now in her grip, she retreated to the table that Thea had picked out. A part of her wished they could find somewhere else to eat it, but the idea of wandering through the streets with copious amounts of ice cream seemed more of a hazard than anything. Then again, this might turn into a hazard.

Lost in thought, Van set the cups down and looked over her shoulder. She heard the small tap of Thea’s cups hitting the table in unison, and she pulled her attention back to her company. It didn’t seem like Thea was alright. Van’s stomach rolled again, frustration peeling over her. She wished this was different– that there was a girl their age behind the counter. They’d talk about their favorite flavors, maybe talk about the ones they didn’t like, too, and Van and Thea would laugh and they’d tell her that they’d enjoy even the ones they didn’t like, because that’s what you did to be polite, even if Van had a hard time with that. And then they’d leave, but Van would scrounge some change for the tip jar, and they’d talk about how nice that girl was on their way back to Dr. Kavanagh’s. Instead, they were left with this– a man who spoke without being spoken to, venom seeping through each and every word.

Van followed Thea’s movements, taking the seat opposite her, but sitting in the middle, just in case he decided to join them. She slouched slightly, kicking one foot onto the other seat. It barely worked, her legs were too short, but maybe it’d still deter him from wandering over. These were made up situations, she realized, but better to be prepared.

His question wrung out through the silence and Van gripped the mini spoon tightly. She looked from Thea back over to the man who’s smirk made her want to scream. She wasn’t offended by the question– if it had come from anyone else, then maybe it’d even spark excitement. Fear, too, for the sake of being worried of ever being within proximity of someone like that again, but excitement all the same. Instead, it was replaced by a certain kind of anger, the kind you saw in magazines where adults tried to mimic teenage angst. She wasn’t angry at the question, but that it was coming from him.

Her mouth moved quicker than her mind, “yes, we are, and we’re trying to enjoy it.” Maybe a little too forward. The man’s smirk grew and he raised his hands defensively, “I was just asking, you don’t need to be so…” He didn’t finish his sentence, but she knew what he wanted to say. Van quickly scooped a bite of the strawberry shortcake into her mouth, focusing on the way it was cold on her tongue. If she could ground herself, then it would be okay. If she could focus on this.

But the man was moving, a mop in one hand, the creaky bucket in the other. He approached them, just a few feet shy of their table. The sound of the mop, wet on the ground, made Van tense. The metal of it scraped against the tile and Van lifted her gaze up to meet Thea’s, silently asking if they should leave. There were other ice cream places, and if they were closed, they could go to the stupid grocery store. Not the one they killed Debbie in, but another one.

She hated him. She hated him. She hated him. Thea chewed at empty air, full of the fantasy of his flesh under her teeth. The cup was crushed in her tight grip, chocolate fudge spilled over her hand. It wasn’t fair, she told herself. All she wanted was a nice day for them, her brain was eager to remind her. Why did he have to be here? Why did he have to be like this? What if he wasn’t? What if he was gone? Thea’s stomach groaned. Her vision, blackened around the sides, focused only on him. She could smell the sourness of his clothes, the staleness of his breath, the oils in his hair, the sweat pooled in his shoes.

“Yes, we are, and…” Van’s voice cut across the room like one crashing wave; Thea perked up. “We are?” She repeated, blinking rapidly at her friend. In an instant, the man was gone from her senses. Hunger dissolved from her body and instead, it twinkled like a star in the sky, fluttering inside of her. “We—I mean…” Was it a date? Or was that the sort of thing said just to get him off their backs? It was casual; maybe it didn’t mean anything. Did she want it to mean anything? Surely not, her ability to not eat people was a work in progress. But her body had a story of its own: at the idea, she smiled shyly, cheeks flushed with nervous glee. “Not that I—I’m not, like, opposed—I just…” Her brain fired off in every conceivable direction; thoughts tripped over themselves, collided like asteroids, burst open like stars. Thea’s body had, in that instant, relaxed.

Then she heard it: the soft exhale of breath, the little laugh meant just for him. He chuckled. He chuckled at them. Thea’s attention snapped to him again, hunger roiling in her stomach once more. She dropped the crushed ice cream cup onto the table, leaning over the edge to look at him. Tiny smirk. Head turned to their table. Useless circles with his mop. He was listening in. They were his entertainment for the working day. It was innocent enough—didn’t she do the same during her shifts?—but Thea found herself incapable of generous readings. It happened to her like it always did, inside her abdomen. It felt like a period cramp gone wrong, a strangely common experience twisted with hunger; pain seared across her body. Thea stumbled to her feet. “Washroom,” she blurted, clutching her stomach; though it wasn’t clutching so much as clawing at. She rushed past the man, knocking over his bucket—“Hey!”—and threw herself into the single person washroom, having just enough sense left to lock to the door behind her.

Her bones snapped and she fell to the tiled floor, drooling through the pain of it. Thea tried to hold herself together; she found that these transformations, the kind that happened outside of full moons, could be stopped. Never mind that she’d never really stopped one before; she only knew that if her thoughts were happy enough, she could feel parts of her body reverting. She held herself around the stomach and forced her thoughts to be of ice cream, Van, opossums, stars, the moon, the ocean at night, Van. But for every thought about her friend, the manna tiny smirk flickered through her head. For every thought about the things she liked, she realized how hungry she was—ravenous. Her skin peeled off her in ribbons, revealing blood soaked white fur. Her jaw vibrated with pain as it grew—broke and rebuilt itself; her new bloody gums itched; her sharp teeth throbbed. Thea stumbled to her feet and ran to the mirror wherein she saw her nose cracked in three places, peeling off her face. Her eyes, bloodshot, changing color, could hardly focus; everything was a blur of white and red.

“Yes, we are…” She clung to the sound of Van’s voice and the fluttering happiness it had given her. Yes, we are, she repeated in her head. Yes, we are. Date. Date. She placed her hands around the sink and it snapped off the wall, smashing against the tile. Yes, we are. Thea and the wolf stumbled around the bathroom, debating the issue amongst themselves. Yes, we are. Date. But wasn’t she afraid? Wasn’t that her friend? What did she have to be happy about? Yes, we are. The joy of being wanted—romantically or not, it didn’t matter to her—crashed against her anger, shame, fear, hunger; two opposing oceans with two violent currents. She reminded herself that somewhere out there, with a lot of ice cream, was her friend, Van. Yes, we are.

In another setting, maybe Van caught Thea’s expression. Maybe she saw the look of joy, and maybe Van could smile too, could fill herself in the brightness of it– could feel it bursting from the seams. Instead, she sat in the cold booth with the man and his gap-toothed grin, yellowing and brittle. She stared at him, challenging the next comment out of his mouth. Anxiety spun like a thread through her, tongue coated in iron. She felt her fingers begin to tremble around the spoon she held, thumb denting the fragile plastic.

The questions that split between them were lost on Van. Her mind couldn’t keep up. Between the anger she felt and the way her stomach was doing somersaults, it was all too much. However, Thea’s sudden movement– a cup dropped, chocolate splattering over the table, made Van realign her gaze. She watched as Thea got out from the booth and she immediately dropped her leg, arching forward as if to follow her. Half of her wanted to catch Thea’s wrist, but she wasn’t sure if it was out of selfish intent or not– don’t leave me here with him. Instead, she watched Thea retreat into the bathroom. She jumped as the door slammed and Van looked back to the table, grabbing a few napkins to begin cleaning up the chocolate-y mess. “Seems your friend really is lactose intolerant.” Van opened her mouth, the snapped it closed again.

The noises from within the bathroom were animalistic in nature, and all Van wanted to do was cover her ears, at least for the sake of giving Thea minimal privacy. But then it dawned on her– the man had intentionally given them ice cream with dairy. It was their fault for not checking, wasn’t it? Van’s fault for not being eagle-eyed, for not watching his every movement. It sounded like something broke inside of the bathroom, and suddenly there was the sound of running water– or rather, spraying. Glass shattered and Van shot up from the booth. The man with the mop stuck his hand out, “she’s going to have to pay for whatever she breaks.” Van turned her attention back toward him, mouth acidic now. She flexed her fingers through the air.

“Why did you do that?” Her voice was small, weak. He laughed, and he pressed a hand to his chest. “I wanted to see.” Wasn’t that practically poisoning? Actually, she wasn’t sure if it was classified as such, but it felt like it should. Van stood frozen across from him. He held onto the mop like a lifeline, and from where she stood she could see the way his nails matched the yellow of his teeth. God, how she wanted to scrape her tongue. At least she’d only had a few bites. Thea, on the other hand…

Without thinking, Van took out her phone and pressed play on the last song she’d been listening to. She turned the volume up in an attempt to drown out the sounds coming from the bathroom. She knew that if the roles were reversed, she’d want Thea to do the same for her. Nine Stories by Hazel English started to blast through the small speakers, and really, it didn’t do much to mitigate the noise coming from the other end of the room.

Van had been so busy with her phone that she hadn’t noticed the man got closer to her, dry and cracked fingers outstretched for her phone. “No loud music allowed. Company policy.” He tried to snatch her phone and she held it away from him, taking a step back. “I can do what I want. She’s–” Wouldn’t it embarrass Thea if Van actually said it? Instead, she cleared her throat. The man shook his head, that same stupid grin he wore earlier peeling over his expression like someone would peel an orange. It made Van’s stomach twist again.

The wolf wasn’t easily calmed; against Thea’s wishes, it demanded release. Her anger, which she carried quietly and politely, would be better given into. Her shame, which was a constant acidic pool she dipped into, needed relief. Wasn’t she hungry for more? The wolf, her wolf, had been a part of her since birth; existing in the things held back, the things taught to be subdued. No matter what she did, the sense of relief the wolf gave her was undeniable. No matter how much she hated the creature, she loved the feeling of release. She didn’t want to eat Van—and the wolf would, it had a bottomless appetite—but could she pretend like she was strong enough to deny it? Her transforming body crashed into walls, scratched the door, clawed out the plumbing—and it felt good. Anxiety rolled into her anger which fueled her destructive shame which fed her insecurity which hugged her jealousy and kissed her fatigue for the human condition. What remained of Thea slowly disappeared into a bubbling darkness; it was so terrible to be human, full of terrible human emotions and thoughts and worries. The wolf could take everything away. Yes, we are. Yes. Yes.

The noises from the washroom turned from animalistic to horror-movie and the man’s smirk grew. His sloppy gaze trailed slowly onto the girl’s phone, which he snatched up in one fluid motion. “Play some real music at least,” he sneered, navigating her menus, through her playlists, through her music history, on her phone. Katy Perry’s Firework punched through the speakers. “Yeah.” He grinned, throwing the phone back more than handing it back. He tilted his head up to the ceiling, greasy hair flopping across his forehead. “Company policy: play good shit or else.” He closed his eyes and tasted his future on his hangover stained tongue; seeing the fireworks his queen Katy Perry sang about. His cryptocurrency and reddit inspired stock investments was gonna pan out this year, he knew. And he’d be gone—far, far away from shitty Wicked’s Rest. He’d get the life he was owed. He spread his arms wide, letting the music wash over him, mouthing the words.

Van felt frozen in place. The noises from inside of the bathroom became more volatile. It sounded less and less like a bad trip to the bathroom and more like something else, but before she could peel away to investigate, the man was taking her phone. “Give that back!” Heat rushed to Van’s cheeks as she awkwardly splayed her fingers through the air, reaching for her phone. From the speakers, Nine Stories was disrupted by Katy Perry. Play good shit or else.

The phone was tossed back to her with the speed in which that was meant for someone who didn’t want you to catch anything, at least somebody as uncoordinated as Van. The phone that Erin had given her bounced from her outstretched hands and onto the floor, directly into the dirty mop water bucket. Firework gargled out its last breath for a few agonizing seconds as Van stared down at the bucket in horror. The man said nothing, but dunked his hand into the bucket, coming away with her now waterlogged device. The screen wasn’t displaying anything, but she could make out a very quiet hum of the line do you ever feel like a plastic bag–

“‘S your fault it fell.” Van watched in silence as the man wiped the device on the even dirtier rag hanging from the mop bucket. She watched as he looked it over– the sound of Thea’s convulsing, or what Van could only assume as such, acting as a horrific backdrop.

Before she could properly react, a portal opened between them, and Van’s hair was in her face, whipping against the flat bridge of her nose. There was no wind within the rest of the store, but whatever the portal led to, that was enough to–

The man screamed and Van watched as he was dragged through, something elongated digging its talons into his leg. She watched in silence, being thrown back into the moments where Diana had slipped and fell into the portal, that much like this one, had sprung open and snapped shut within a moment of recognition. The same happened here, and the only thing left behind was the cellphone that was now broken. Van stood there, stunned by what had just occurred. She could still hear the noise coming from within the bathroom and Van hurriedly ran her hands over herself, checking to make sure that she was okay. She was, but was Thea?

“Thea? Thea!” Van knew that the other girl might be embarrassed by the urgency, but what else was she supposed to do? She had murdered somebody again, and they needed to get out. “Thea? Please– Um, you can–” She looked over her shoulder to make sure nobody else was coming into the shop. The noises continued, like skin splitting and refracting itself around bone. Van didn’t think Thea was okay, nor did she think this was lactose intolerance. “Thea, please–” The thought that whatever had gotten the man across from her had first gotten to Thea made her panic. She slammed her palm on the door, “Thea, please! We have to go!” The water she had heard earlier was beginning to seep from beneath the door, though it was tinted with rouge. This made Van panic more and she continued slamming her hand against the door, matching the frequency of the noise from the other side.

Van’s voice sliced across the din of Thea’s mind. Oh god, she wept, her trashing body snapping and twisting. It happened. That pain in Van’s voice—that urgency—meant she’d done it. She was eating her. She couldn’t see, she couldn’t taste or smell; she felt like she was floating in space, staring down at her wolfish body on Earth—too small to make anything out. Oh god. She crumpled, tumbling to the slashed tiles. Her body cracked into place as she sobbed into her bloody palms. She couldn’t have just one friend, just one good day—it had to be this. Thea looked up, surveying the washroom through misty vision. Nothing was where it ought to be: the toilet was shattered on the opposite wall, water springing up from the pipes like a fountain. The walls bore distinct five-finger slashes in every direction, as if she’d tried to claw out through the wall. The door was carved out on her side, dug through with animal desperation. It thumped.

“Van?” Thea sniffled, stumbling to her aching legs. She fell against the door, letting the harsh knocks bounce through her bones. Through the battered wood, she could hear her: her friend, Van, alive, calling her name. Thea closed her eyes, taking in each breath and gasp and shout before she realized that Van didn’t sound okay. She unlocked the door and swung it open, smiling. “Van! Are you--” And then she grabbed it back, swinging it forcibly back to her body. “I’m naked.” She’d felt the breeze immediately. Her embarrassment served as a temporary pain killer. “I can’t—we should go yeah—it um, the toilet exploded…” She looked around. Where did that guy go? She didn’t have time to wonder. “I’m naked,” she repeated. “I can’t—I can’t walk around like this.” Why did the transformation have to take her clothes? The Hulk got to keep his pants at least—that was tasteful.

Van’s mind raced as she slammed her hand against the door once again. The space behind her was left empty aside from the now broken phone and the mop bucket. Even the mop was gone, swallowed up by whatever had gotten the man. Deep down, she knew she was responsible. She knew that if she didn’t open the door to see Thea in the flesh, that whatever had gotten him had gotten her, too, and it would’ve been all her fault.

There was a break in the convulsing from the other side of the door, and then Thea’s voice, strangely quiet– shaking. Van’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t killed her– Thea was alive, and whatever had happened hadn’t killed her. The fact that there was bloody water at her feet, however, still made Van uneasy. She didn’t relent slamming on the door until it opened. On the other side was Thea, face bruised– nose broken, blood already dried down her face. She was naked, too. Van looked past Thea before the door could be yanked back, noticing the way that the toilet was shattered. What the hell had happened in there? When Thea spoke, Van realigned her gaze and she stuttered out, “it was just dairy.” Okay, maybe not the best thing to say, especially because Van was almost one hundred percent positive that dairy wasn’t the culprit here, but maybe it was better for both their sakes if she did. Whatever happened on this side of the door, it wasn’t reminiscent of anything she’d seen. Van had her run-ins with dairy, she knew the experience, and this seemed far from it.

“You’re naked.” Van forgot, only momentarily, about the way the black hole opened up behind her just moments ago, but only because Thea needed help. “No, that’s– it’s only for French people to do that.” She cleared her throat, clearly stressed by the situation. “It’s–” She looked around, noticing that there was some merch hanging on one side of the wall. There was only a t-shirt, but there had to be something else, right? “Hold on.” With her legs wobbling beneath her, Van made her way to the t-shirt and yanked it down. It looked like it might actually fit her. After some searching, she came up empty on a pair of pants and opted for a trash bag. Before returning to Thea, she shakily punched holes through the bottom of the bag for Thea’s legs. It’d look weird, but she didn’t think Thea would mind as long as she didn’t need to run through town naked. “Um, I found…” She extended an even shakier hand out towards Thea, half-afraid that whatever had happened behind the closed door might get her, too. “I’m sorry they aren’t real pants. There are no real pants here.” Her voice wavered slightly and she could feel the pool of tears beginning to sting the corners of her eyes. Couldn’t she just not cry for one second?! She cleared her throat and took a step back. It’d only be a matter of time before Thea realized that the man was gone, or maybe she already had. What excuse could Van give to her friend? Would she even believe it? What excuse would Thea give to her? Van knew it wasn’t lactose intolerance that did this, it couldn’t be.

“No, it was–it was the toilet.” Thea tried to explain. “I didn’t do that. The toilet…it uh…launched out of the ground like a rocket? And then bounced around the room? And I hadn’t used it yet. It just, um, looked at me and did that. I’m–I’m trying not to take it personally.” She wasn’t sure how believable she sounded, but she hoped her bright smile dispelled any doubts. Surely Van would believe that it was the toilet and not her?

“Do the French walk around naked? Like outside?” Thea frowned. “Like inside stores? They do that?” The French were weird, she guessed. Although, her sad French education didn’t include anything about nudity. It did, however, include a large number of puppets. Her body thrummed with pain and her mind tried to recall all the French puppets she had been subjected to—there was also the matter of the puppet show of Les Trois Petite Cochons that she performed. Voici le loup. When Van arrived again, Thea took the offerings gleefully. “Thanks! I can definitely wear a shirt and a…is this a trash bag...?” The door swung closed as she released it, muffling the rest of her sentence. But before she was cut off from Van completely, she looked up and caught a glimpse of her wet eyes.

Slipping into the shirt was easy, pushing her legs through the holes Van so graciously made in the trash bag was a little harder. In the end, she pulled her legs through and tied the bag around her waist to prevent it from falling. In the shattered mirror, she saw that she looked like a giant baby with a trash bag diaper. Normally, this would make her cry. However, somewhere beyond the half-broken washroom door was her friend, who was actually crying. Thea pushed herself out and debuted her trash baby look, smiling softly. Her arms, despite any better judgment, wrapped around her friend. Her legs crinkled. “It’s okay,” she said, unsure of what she was soothing. Over Van’s head, she saw the upturned bucket and shattered phone. Wasn’t there supposed to be a man there? “Where did the…” She swallowed. “Let’s get out of here, okay? But not too fast, the trash bag isn’t very secure.”

Van didn’t believe Thea, but she wanted to. Wanted to think that maybe Wicked’s Rest had possessed toilets, but there was something else that Thea wasn’t telling her. The busted nose, the way the blood was sticking to her face– the fact that she was naked, it was all too much to ignore in favor of lactose intolerance. A few months ago she might have been able to convince herself that it was in fact lactose intolerance, but now? Now, she knew it was something else. But Thea didn’t want to tell her, and Van wasn’t going to make her. “The toilet is like, really mean for doing that.” She wasn’t sure how that was what she landed on, but she ran with it.

She wasn’t really sure how to answer Thea’s question about the French. Really, she was just referencing the one man who had streaked at the zoo. She thought it was common knowledge now, but apparently it wasn’t. Van sniffled, wiping away some of the stray tears that were beginning to stick to her cheeks. Thea came out from behind the door and Van recoiled at the sound of the swish the garbage bag made. The door closed, and Thea’s arms were around her. Van thought back to the moments where she thought whatever had gotten the nasty man had gotten her and she found herself winding her arms around the taller girl, squeezing her tightly. She hid her face into the dusty-smelling t-shirt and inhaled, proving to herself that Thea was real.

Something cracked open in the silence that warped around them and Van was pulling away, looking behind her to where Thea’s eyes were glued. She swallowed thickly and tried her best to steady herself. It was probably better that they just leave. What if there was footage of them? What would happen then? Van nodded in agreement, peeling herself away from Thea. She felt guilty for giving the other girl a trash bag to wear. Maybe she should have taken off her pants and given Thea them and then wore the trash bag herself. “He…” She flexed her fingers through the air again, as if tracing them through the magic that had swallowed him whole. There was no energy, nothing that made Van think it’d be coming back to take them, too. “We should go.” She reiterated Thea’s earlier statement and stooped down to grab her phone. She shoved it into her pocket and looked towards the already melting ice cream in the corner booth. “Come on.” With a shaky hand, she reached out for Thea. The tears still fell, but she felt a little more confident as she pulled Thea out of the ice cream shop. They could check back later and see if any reports were made. If all else failed, maybe the man was severely hated and it’d work out in their favor that he was gone at all.

Thea stayed close to her friend, walking along the sunlit sidewalk with her crinkly trash bag pants. “This was kind of a bad date–uh–friend date,” she said, staring at the open horizon. “Guess we’ll have to have another.” She shrugged about as well as someone could while holding someone else’s hand. And for a moment, she forgot she looked like a trash baby and that a man was suspiciously missing and that she had committed property damage. Instead, she thought about Van’s voice and her certainty: yes, we are.

#I HAVE TO RUN TO A MOVIE I WILL FIX THE BANNER I SWEAR #NO ONE LOOK #c: van #writing #s1 #unsanitary tw #AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #i love ci #AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #that's me screaming for ci

7 notes · View notes