One shots

A dying fire (Avatrice)

The whistling wind blew steady against the maple trees. Their once green leaves now on the ground—in a puddle of red, orange and yellow.

In a glade, a frail campfire was surrounded by logs of various sizes. On one of the logs, a nun sat, her fingers massaging her temples. Her carob hair in a messy braid.

According to the brunette, the forest taunted her. Among the sound of the whistling wind and the creaking trees, she could hear a faint shouting from a voice she recognized way too easily. A voice which the brunette knew weren't actually present. It was her past coming out to play.

Opposite her, sat another girl, her focus solely on the dying fire. Her favorite mustered sweater was stained red. She was fixated with the flames—the way they danced around each other in heaps of low and high, wide and narrow, while the rest of the world was dying and tried everything in its power to drag them down with it. She tried nothing to add to the fuse and, as each second passed, the world dragged the dancing flames under, one by one.

The crackling of the fire eased a calm into the halo bearer. A calm she'd do anything to hold onto.

The girl in the mustered sweater took a heavy breath. The fire now completely dead. Her calming state vanishing with it. She turned to her fingernails, distracting herself with picking at her chipped nail polish.

Finally, the nun looked up, and studied the girl before her. She sighed, shakily, before starting up to conversation, "I didn't want this for you." She breathed out. There was a defeat in her tone unlike ever before. It scared her, as it did the girl across.

The halo bearer took a crisp breath, trying to control her emotions. "I know." She said. She didn't dare to look up at the nun across from her. If she did, she knew there was no use in trying to control her emotions. "I'm sorry." Her voice was sincere, but she did not regret her actions. There wasn't an ounce of remorse in her bones. Not when her person was sitting here across from her—alive.

"No, you don't need to apologize," The nun voiced sternly, "You did the right thing." She searched the young girl across from her, wanting nothing more than for her gaze to connect with her own.

The halo bearer wasn't ready to face her yet. Or maybe she wasn't ready to identify the fear that was brewing in the nun's eyes. She knew it was in there—she was sure of it—but part of her thought if she didn't see it, it'd vanish—eventually. She didn't want to discover how those eyes she'd come to love would now look at her differently. She's terrified for those eyes to show her anything other than the warmth and safety they've previously displayed. Not when those eyes belonged to her Bea.

The nun pinched the bridge of her nose, her emotions catching up to her. "Can you look at me, please!" She pleaded, now aggravated. Her hand released the grip on her nose and found its way to her forehead. She tried running her fingers through her hair, only to realize it was intertwined into a firm braid. "We need to formulate a plan."

"I don't see why I have to look at you for that." The halo bearer spoke. She brought her hand up in the air to inspect her now naked fingernails. When she was satisfied with the result, she let her hand drop back into her lap, now picking out the dirt that had molded itself under her cracked nails.

The nun narrowed her eyes, fed up with the halo bearer's demeanor. "Ava!" She shouted, raising to her feet, "Don't you care at all?" She marched over to the girl in the mustered sweater, her face reddening. "The other's are still out there! Mary, Camila, Lilith!" The nun screamed in the girl's face. Ava was truly the only one that made her emotions flare up. And she was the only person the nun dared to let her emotions fall at display for. The nun sat down besides the halo bearer, discharging a long breath. "They need us Ava. We can't just turn our backs on them." She said, calmly this time.

In response, Ava was the one who flared up, "Don't you think I know that?!" She yelled, finally turning her gaze to the nun next to her. "The world's fate is in my hands. Everyone depends on me. I am trying the best I can!" She cried.

Her chest was burning under the responsibility she didn't choose. The responsibility she didn't want but was forced to bear for the greater good. And then her chest contracted with guilt. She'd been given a second chance at life. She'd been given a family. None of that would've happened if it weren't for the responsibility that continuously pulled her under. So maybe she was drowning, but if drowning meant that Beatrice would save her, Ava would happily dive into the ocean within a heartbeat.

Then the fear came. The fear of the unknown. The fear that she'll somehow waste the second chance she's been granted. The fear of loosing her family. Beatrice. "I just-" She pursed her lips together, feeling her eyes fill up with water. The halo bearer directed her attention up towards the trees surrounding them. She stared up at the sky, trying to hold back her eyelids from closing. She released a shaky breath as her palms rubbed at the material on her thighs. "I- I murdered her, Bea."

When Ava resumed her gaze on the nun, Beatrice noticed the halo bearer's red, hooded eyes. The brunette placed one of her hands on top of Ava's—gripping onto it. "No." She said, firmly, shaking her head. "No, Ava. We're not going down this path." Beatrice could feel her own tears starting to prickle in her eyes. If she'd been with anyone else, she'd shy away and hide. But she wasn't with anyone else, she was with Ava. Her Ava. "You saved me. Okay? You saved me and, her death was an accident."

Ava's lips trembled, preventing her from formulating any words. The tears that prickled her eyes made her vision blurry and her eyelashes damp. Her vision shifted from Beatrice to the tree-tops in rapid speed. She didn't want to cry. Not here. Not when she still felt so insecure about being vulnerable. But, like with everything else surrounding the nun, Ava was at her mercy, unable to control her body that somehow was under the management of Beatrice. Sooner or later she had to let the fluid run free. Ava hated that idea, but her body didn't.

Beatrice's grip on the halo bearers hand tightened. The touch ignited a fire inside the both of them that was far warmer than the physical fire the nun had initially started. "Do you understand me?" She searched Ava's face for a response. She tried her best to give the halo bearer a look that showed her that everything would be alright. She knew it would, but she wasn't so sure that Ava did. And, even if everything burned down around them, Beatrice would still look at Ava like she put all the stars in the sky.

The halo bearer let her tears fall free—no longer having the energy to hold them back. She nodded her head at the nun's question. Her eyes were quickly getting puffy and her nose started running miles on the treadmill that was her misery. That look was all she needed. It was all she ever wanted. Despite her tearstained cheeks and snot covered philtrum, Ava felt the familiar warmth and safety spread inside her like a blanket on a cold winter morning. The kind of warmth and safety only Beatrice could prescribe.

The nun placed her hand on Ava's cheek, wiping away some of the tears with her thumb. "You, Ava Silva, is no murderer." She spoke, firmly, sincerely. She felt horrible for the halo bearer. She didn't ask for any of this, and yet, here she was, fighting for the world liked it's been her life purpose. Concern had made a home inside Beatrice's mind over the duration of knowing Ava. But it'd never been as papable as now. She was concerned over how Ava would get out of this state. Granted, it's only been an hour or two, but Beatrice knew Ava, and she knew the halo bearer wouldn't move on from this so easily. She was concerned because she knew—that no matter how much she didn't want it to be true—things would change between them now. Not because of what Ava did, but, because of the reason she had to do it.

Ava flung onto Beatrice for dear life. She wrapped her arms tightly around the nun and rested her head on her shoulder—her face founding comfort in the crook of the nun's neck. The halo bearer gripped the brunette's clothes into her fists so hard her knuckles were turning white. It was as if she was scared that if she let go, she'd never see Beatrice again. Her Bea.

One of Beatrice's hands cupped the halo bearer's head, stroking her tangled hair. The other went around Ava's tiny frame, holding steadily over her hip. As if possible, she pulled Ava even closer. Her flesh craving everything that the halo bearer was.

If loving Ava was a sin, Beatrice would happily spend all her days in hell. Fuck, she'd even spend the rest of her days here—on a log in the middle of nowhere, as the cold autumn wind blew steadily against the maple trees. Despite it all, Beatrice could die happy right here, right now, with Ava by her side. That was everything she needed. Everything she wanted. It always comes back to her. Her person. Her Ava.