Arcaea: The World of Glass

[Side] Binary Enfold

[AN]: This is the one side story that I recommend skipping, because Incest (ew)

You're asleep.

Now that you've faded off, I've started thinking of something older.

If the memories that we made here could be crystallized, these are the ones I would collect.

You'd probably mock me for it. Every time I pick a piece of glass to "carry" around, you're ready
to mock me. I think you just don't understand it, but I also think that's just fine.

I can't capture you in a memory. You're you, now and forever.

But, now that you've faded off, I've started thinking of something older.

That one room in glass. That one concert.

You were like a fire, a storm.

Whenever your foot beat down on the flooring, it felt like the entire building shook.

The air quaked, and the ground rumbled.

Watching you like that always leaves me breathless. The melody you carried then swayed the
whole room.

Effort. Persistence. It was wonderful.

That beat... That smile... How you pulled the bow over those strings, perspired, laughed.

I thought: I love you.

In victory, in struggle—

I've always loved you, Luna.

The song ended to applause. The opposite player could do nothing but graciously accept defeat.

You raised your instrument and took a bow.

You looked at me, and you said it. I couldn't hear it over the crowd, but the words on your lips
were clear:

"Better than you, wasn't I?"

I frowned. I rolled my eyes. The memory ended.

A world of white came up all around us, and you started walking toward me—the instrument gone from your grasp and replaced by your sword. Still eyeing you, I said:

"Are you enjoying winning once that much?"

"Once makes one more for me. Now count them up."

"Well, we don't have anything to count on."

"Count on yourself," you said, and you tapped the side of your head. "Use your head."

I'd figured that out, Luna.

Well, that marked three times, I guessed. Three better performances than me... though you'd
never let me remind you. My showing was better... right, I believe it was five times. Yes—after
finishing the count in my head, I raised five fingers on one hand, and three on the other.

And then you hit my opened palm with your own.

"Five!?" you shouted, beaming. "That's barely more than three!" Not wrong!

Your hand closed over mine, fingers tightly interlocking. You were feverish, but you were starting
to cool near me. Still wearing a smile, you narrowed your eyes at me and offered, "Again?"

I had to refuse. It was a little sad, you know? I could point my blade at near any memory, and
inside it I'd do better than you. But you were too cheerful in the moment to bother thinking that.
You squeezed my hand tighter. You laughed. You relaxed.

You returned to your preferred, calmer mien, and not long after you said:

"So, where to?"

I huffed, and led you toward the tower I'd mentioned before.

I knew that you knew it...

that I still always appreciated you asking.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Are you awake?

I think that I'm dreaming. It's kind of annoying that I'm starting to dream of you.

Your face, your moments; scenes of you are running through my head. How every song you've
ever played has stolen my breath away; how every movement you ever make looks controlled and composed. When I think of you, I tend to think of something "perfect".

What's annoying is every part of you that begs a different take.

I know how easily you lose track. I know you trip and fall sometimes. And honestly? You're really,
really weird...

You know, I hated how we woke up here.

I think it's fair to say. Both of us thought this was definitely too soon, that this was a last stop
nobody ever would've guessed. Everything we were taught, everything that we read—no books or teachers or family or anything or anyone ever mentioned a world made out of glass. And, when my eyes opened up to all this light here, you were there and saw them starting to shimmer.

You just said, "It's all made of glass!" And in an instant, you took to everything like it was nothing.

For a while, I was pretty sure that back then, you were just saying the dumbest thing you could
think of to turn my tears away... Like maybe, because we're twins, you saw into my heart before
you saw the worry in my eyes, and you knew exactly what to shout out to make me feel better.
But then you started waving for those butterflies of glass to follow you.

Whether you were trying to or not, you reminded me of how you always were, and when you
grabbed my hand, it was like you were telling me you'd never change, and...

Well, I love you.

When you're beside me, whenever you're away—

I will always love you, Eto.

Though good luck ever getting me to say that.

Hey... do you remember when we went to that tower? Maybe we'd seen... about half of the world
by then, and you were pretty set on that one place. I remember that, when we were kind of
nearing it, I asked you:

"Why a tower, anyway?"

You said, "It was the first thing we saw!"

...I felt a little dumbfounded.

"...That's it? We're going there because you... saw it?"

"WE saw it," you insisted.

"I don't remember it," I lied. "You're going crazy already?"

A quiet laugh escaped your lips. You asked me, "What's really 'crazy', anyway?"

And I mean, you definitely are, right? If it wasn't glass, you'd probably keep collecting marbles or
leaves. If you couldn't make music, you'd take up a paintbrush. If we didn't have a path for a
journey, you'd find somewhere to bring us anyway.

You've called me "wild" before, but look at you.

The "tower" wasn't even a tower... The thing was a lighthouse, standing over a totally empty sea.

I sat down in front of it because I was tired; you sat down behind me because I sat down. And,
while I looked around where we were I suddenly got this idea. I asked you, "Wait—wait, are there
any shells here!?"

You told me, "We are where we are, Luna."

And I told you, "Yeah, but there's no sea..." I remember dropping against you after saying that,
just to make you slouch. I insisted, "Let's look for shells! Then we can hear what's left of it!"

You told me I was being childish. Uh-huh. Sorry.

But remember? You were the one who led us out onto the sands yourself.

We'd spend some time there, and through what we'd find return to memories of our own.