One Equal Temper of Heroic Hearts

Disquieted

Mahina had extremely strong senses, for a Chosen spirit.

Compared to humanity, Jack's and her kind were deeply attuned to a variety of things- sometimes small things like shifts in time and temperature, but also the presence of magic. It was an instinct that took effort and practice to refine.

Mahina was more naturally adept with these abilities than most other spirits chosen by the Man in the Moon (though, animalistic ones like the Easter Bunny were still well ahead of her). She hadn't bothered to bring this up to the others, to try to explain it; it was always torment, watching people realize something wasn't right with her. It felt like her soul was being scraped raw when she had to explain one of these last despised traces of her father.

And so, she didn't. She buried them, like a dysfunctional YA novel protagonist, because how exactly was she supposed to say "Ah yes, my biological father is the Primal spirit of fear who is older than humanity, and I have retractable fangs and freakish instincts because of this. Want to get brunch on Tuesday?"

... actually, she thought she ought to try that sometime. More importantly though, while the difference in sensory ability wasn't extreme in most cases, there was one exception: Mahina could feel Pitch Black's presence from a mile away, and he could sense her just as easily. Her light magic granted by the Moon was his opposite, so his approach gave her a sort of dull, twisting, aching nausea. It was somehow a bone-deep recognition of her own magical flesh-and-blood, and her now-light-magic essence rejecting it. It was confusing and uncomfortable, but being around Pitch was those things anyway, so Mahina had come to mostly ignore it. Mostly.

She'd forgotten that in the eleventh century, there was a very real chance of running into a much more powerful version of her father than existed in the future- up until the nausea began. Just the littlest bit at first, chipping away at her appetite and curdling her bile, but she knew the feeling. It got a little bit weaker as they traveled that day, so she calmly urged everyone to go faster with a bit of cheerful motivation. It seemed to work. The feeling faded, and she was able to eat dinner as normal, much to her relief. Mahina had a feeling trying to explain a lack of appetite to Rapunzel would be a hassle.

The only issue was that the feeling got stronger overnight, while they camped; Mahina paced on her watch the entire time, hugging herself and hoping no one woke up. She kept quietly checking for nightmares, but there was no sign of Pitch or any problems... yet.

The next morning, Mahina made the excuse that it was too early in the morning for her to be hungry. The nausea was starting to mess with her body temperature, and she was torn between sitting far away from Jack so the temperature-sensitive seasonal wouldn't notice or flopping against his side for some relief from the horrible warmth that felt like it oozed up and down her spine.

She could handle it, though. Mahina acted normal, hummed when she really just wanted to be completely silent, kept her back straight and head up. Sure, she was flagging more than usual, but she brushed it off and cooked dinner to boot, to keep everyone's suspicions off of her. Even at their worst, Mahina's Pitch radar symptoms were manageable, and with the Man in the Moon as her witness she would manage them.

The problem was, they got worse all evening, and then began to improve as night fell, which meant he was close. Too close.

Everyone started to head to bed while she was lost in thought. She had to warn Jack, at least; she didn't want him to be surprised when his sworn archenemy popped up. So, Mahina steeled her nerve as Jack stood, standing as well and grabbing his hand as subtly as she could. She found her own was shaking, and he noticed as well, not to mention the fact she was a bit too warm still.

"Something wrong?" He asked under his breath.

"Pitch is coming," Mahina replied, opting not to sugar-coat it.