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st_arkcrowblack) wrote in
strangetrip2017-12-21 12:00 am
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And then there were none - OTA
She was gone. Sansa was gone.
It wasn't unusual for Snow White not to see Sansa for a day or two. Sansa kept to herself much of the time, shy of many of the inn’s inhabitants. But she would find Snow, would talk to Snow, and it would always bring light and warmth to Snow’s day to see her. She didn’t understand why. She didn’t need to know, so long as she could have this.
Yesterday had been just about the most magical day in her life. She'd found Sansa building a castle in the snow, and they'd worked quietly together on this tiny model of a castle called Winterfell. Snow had finally worked up her nerve and kissed her after those last touches were made. It had been terrifying. It had been achingly sweet. But it had not been bad. Neither of them knew what it meant, and yet...
And then today she just knew something was different. Something was wrong. She had gone to Sansa’s room. Then to the desk.
She didn’t cry. Or scream, or rage. Instead she calmly and quietly collected four glass bottles from the bar and took them out to a fence along the road.
She had four bullets left in Rose Red. Two had been used in Songrun, and she had been saving the rest until Percy could make her more. She lined up the bottles on the fence, and stepped back as far as she thought she could manage.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
Zero.
She dropped the gun and went down on her knees in the grass, staring at nothing.
It wasn't unusual for Snow White not to see Sansa for a day or two. Sansa kept to herself much of the time, shy of many of the inn’s inhabitants. But she would find Snow, would talk to Snow, and it would always bring light and warmth to Snow’s day to see her. She didn’t understand why. She didn’t need to know, so long as she could have this.
Yesterday had been just about the most magical day in her life. She'd found Sansa building a castle in the snow, and they'd worked quietly together on this tiny model of a castle called Winterfell. Snow had finally worked up her nerve and kissed her after those last touches were made. It had been terrifying. It had been achingly sweet. But it had not been bad. Neither of them knew what it meant, and yet...
And then today she just knew something was different. Something was wrong. She had gone to Sansa’s room. Then to the desk.
She didn’t cry. Or scream, or rage. Instead she calmly and quietly collected four glass bottles from the bar and took them out to a fence along the road.
She had four bullets left in Rose Red. Two had been used in Songrun, and she had been saving the rest until Percy could make her more. She lined up the bottles on the fence, and stepped back as far as she thought she could manage.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
Zero.
She dropped the gun and went down on her knees in the grass, staring at nothing.
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Which left Snow and he had seen how she'd treasured her gun and how little ammunition she had left. Percy slipped a small pack into his coat pocket and followed the gunfire to its source. The slim girl with her dark hair on her knees struck him hard. He'd seen his sister in that despair.
For a moment, he hesitated. He was not, by anyone's measure, good with people. But he couldn't turn away from the girl either. Vex would have his head.
"Snow?" he called from a good distance away, giving her plenty of time to wave him off.
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She had, of course. She just couldn't muster enough give-a-fuck to respond.
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She hadn't told him to go away. Hadn't reacted at all, in fact. She was out of ammunition. He'd counted the shots.
He kept walking until he was at her side, then knelt. From his coat pocket, he took out the packet he'd slipped in there earlier and offered it to her without a word. The faint clink of metal against metal sounded as he held it in his always slightly shaking hand.
He didn't speak, didn't ask her to.
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Percy froze. He understood the sound of heartbreak but he still didn't know what to do about it. Awkwardly, he reached out and touched her shoulder. "What's happened, Snow?"
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He wouldn't do anything to her, that wasn't the issue. But could she physically make herself explain herself to someone who was still mostly a stranger? Should she? Would Vex hate her if she just punched him?
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Percy dropped his hand and waited. He rather wanted to reach for the earring he wore and call for backup but this felt like a salvageable situation still. At the very least, she was out of bullets unless she took the ones in his hand.
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Normally River shied away from such things, she didn't WANT to feel them, but this was Snow. This was a friend. So she went looking. And when she found her in the grass she quietly sat down next to her, close enough to feel her warmth but not so close to touch.
Snow didn't like to be touched or she might have patted her awkwardly on the arm in consolation. But instead she just sat and silently let her friend know she was not alone.
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Her mind was full of Sansa, and rather than try to hide it or otherwise push it away, she leaned into it.
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"You are not alone," she said finally. Not that she expected it to ease the pain but for River alone was almost worse than anything else. Alone reminded her of the Academy.
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Snow nodded. She knew. She still had Mama and Kash and Vex (and Vax) and Molly and River and Dyson--when he had gotten onto that list she really couldn't say--and yet it still felt like all of her guts had fallen out and been replaced with ice water.
"Fuck everything," she whispered.
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But no one was heading toward the doors, and so Kash decided he'd better check it out. Just in case.
What he found wasn't an attack in progress, but one of his...closest friends he guessed kneeling in the grass with a smoking gun in her hand and no attacker in sight. Which meant it was something inside her mind that was hurting her.
He didn't have Trinket or one of the horses and Mittens wasn't going to cut it this time, he was pretty sure. So he said her name quietly so she knew who was coming, and then came close to sit beside her.
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Care. He cared. He gave a fuck about this girl and if that meant sitting here, not speaking, not touching her, not doing anything until she was ready or he was, then he would gods-damn well sit here and do that.
And if it meant letting her punch him until he bled and she cried, he could do that too.
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Sansa's gone.
Not her mama, not one of the horses, a friend. More than a friend, maybe. "One of the ones worth holding onto," he said, certain, not asking. "Feels like a bleeding hole in your chest." For him, anyway.
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She let out a snarl of rage and flung a fireball at the interior wall of her office. How was she supposed to protect her daughter in this nightmare?
A short while and several fireballs later, Regina decided the best she could do was be the one to tell Snow. Too late, it seemed, because she couldn't find her. Not for more than an hour. And when she finally did...
"Oh, Snow," she murmured and sank down into the grass, her arms instantly going around Snow.
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She didn't tell her daughter it would be all right. It wouldn't. She didn't tell her she was here. She was, and it mattered, but not right now. She didn't tell her they'd find Sansa. They probably wouldn't.
What she said was, "Snow, sweetheart," and with tears in her eyes and her voice, "I'm so sorry."
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But this? She didn't even know what this was, and that it hurt so much was bewildering.
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