IAN MORNINGSTAR-SANDERS: CIRCA 1982, UNIVERSE #845,019,284
Ian yawned, exhausted from his classes. His last year at The Academy, and he felt the dull ache of everything that had been lost. He and Bond were supposed to graduate this year, side by side and proud smiles brandished on their faces. In his fantasies, Bond had come out to his family. Bond had been proud of who he was. Bond was happy, because that was all Ian wanted for any of his friends.
A small meow, then the familiar weight of Salem was dropping on Ian's bed and climbing onto his chest. "Hi, Salem," Ian whispered, leaning slightly so he could close the curtains around his bed. He hated when his roommates watched him have conversations with Salem. "Tell me something nice, will you?"
"Like what?" Salem's voice was low, harmonious the way it always was. Sometimes Ian entertained himself by wondering what Salem did that got him cursed to be a familiar, but that was the one question he never asked. "A bed time story?"
"Is there a universe where it's better? Where less people died in the war?" Ian asked softly, his curiosity peaking at the prospect of a brighter future. Even if it was out of his personal reach. "I know you're all strict about showing me, but...will you? Just this once, will you?"
Salem was silent, but he laid on Ian's chest and rested his head under his chin. "I will." He decided eventually, earning a bright smile from Ian. Salem didn't care, obviously, because the cat wasn't even paying attention. "Only because there is no way for you to change the timeline. What needed to be done to ensure that universe can't happen now. But you have to swear, on your life, that you won't tell anyone. Not your brother, not your parents, not Starlie." Salem was rambling, his eyes flicking between the curtains to the ceiling. "Promise, and cast a silence charm."
"I won't tell anyone, not a single soul." Ian promised, fishing his wand out from under his pillow to follow Salem's orders. "Let me guess, telling them will only cause them despair for what could've been?"
"That's always how it turns out, isn't it?" Salem sighed softly, closing his eyes. "Pretend it's just a bedtime story, Ian."
"Okay, tell me my story Salem."
BOND LEATHERWOOD: CIRCA 1979, UNIVERSE #845,019,285
Today is Caliban's birthday, Bond recognizes this the moment he wakes up. He tells no one, because he knows that no one in the Judas Society will care. He knows that if he tells someone, even Dean, the only celebration Caliban will receive would be extra torture.
"You look a bit down, Woody-boy," Cebalrai hums at the breakfast table, surrounding by the Cresswell's and Dean Creek and the Lafant's and every other dreadful family they're forced to interact with. "What's on your mind?"
"Nothing, just the war." Bond excuses, shoving a waffle into his mouth. From across the table, he makes eye contact with Etienne. She's on winter break, her seventh year at The Academy. Bond himself has nearly dropped out, hasn't spoken to his family in months, and has had frequent nightmares. Etienne looks normal, primed and proper. Her hand is wrapped around Leto's under the table, but Bond pretends not to know.
"It's crazy that's our new normal, isn't it?" Cebalrai's voice has dropped, because they're not allowed to disapprove of the war. It's the best thing for them, the adults say, it will ensure they kick the mortals out of their world for good. "I mean we're meant to be worried about our holiday homework right now, and Dean hasn't let you enter The Academy in three months. There are literal missing posters up for you."
