two against the ocean [shrimp - 1.5]

[sadniss everdeen]

Gabrielle Bellamonte

grow these scales from flesh.
turn your feet into fins and your voice into a song,
a siren to the deep.

The way up is long and arduous and your hands scream at you to let go. Whenever the house sways, you go with it, dangling precariously from your burnt orange rope like two insects caught helpless in a web. Anise is in front of you and only the fact that she keeps determinedly putting one hand in front of the other means that you do, too. (The view isn't bad from here, either. You don't know what she did in her past life, but she moves like there's an animal waiting under her skin, a fluidity that comes from years of listening to her own body. It makes her ass look pretty great, too.)

She disappears into the window and you scramble in after her. Your wings get caught across the sill and you have to awkwardly shimmy yourself in sideways, landing on the floor with a thump. You aren't half as graceful as her, but you get the job done. Most of the time.

"We should probably avoid the main mezzanine," you say, dusting yourself off and taking a glance around. This mansion looks much the same as yours did, but you know better. There are broken vases littering the ground and overturned furniture; your left shoe turns from pink to red in a previously unseen puddle of blood. This air tastes heavy with souls that have only just recently left the bodies they belonged to, their former flesh still warm and aching to be reunited. Q brushes a strand of hair behind your ear as you bow your head for a moment, hoping they'll eventually find somewhere safe to rest. "There's no telling if some of the tributes are still looking for blood."

Still, when you look up at the dizzying array of staircases, the same sense of awe and trepidation alike hits you like it's the first time. A rolling mutt nearly bowls you over, bouncing off to the side and around a corner, passing a set of double-doors tucked into the side of the wall. They look unopened and unused. "There," you point, already taking a brave step forward, "it's better than-- fuck!" The second your foot touches the stair, it flips over as if caught and sends you sprawling onto the nearby wall. You clamp your eyes shut to avoid the vertigo and take a moment to make sure you aren't moving before standing up on wobbly legs, looking right (down?) at Anise still on the actual floor.

"No matter how many times I do this, it never gets any less weird." Unlike your first visit, you make it to the door without any mishaps, and when you step inside you detach from the wall (floor?) and land right side up again.

The hallway you find yourself in is unremarkable, but there's a peculiar scent wafting in from further down. The air is warm and thick and as you breathe in, the familiar touch of ocean air brushes over your face. You blink, your heart skipping a little bit despite yourself, and you don't even wait for Anise as you bolt forward. The smell gets stronger the closer you get, thick in your nose and mouth until you can taste the salt, and a delighted laugh leaves your lips as you barrel through the second set of doors and emerge into what's possibly the biggest, most extravagant pool to ever exist. It stretches on forever, the water liquid jewels in red and blue and green, and you're just suddenly so thankful to remember the ocean again that you don't even check to see if it's safe before hastily wrestling yourself out of most of your clothing.

You hear footsteps behind you (probably, hopefully Anise) but they aren't important. The only thing that matters -- "Fucking hell," you snarl, grappling with your pantyhose before yanking them off with vigour -- is getting into that water. Right now.

The splash you make is the biggest in your life.

[shrimp]

anise himura

Each gust of wind sends them swinging into fate's clutches as the mansion creaks and shakes. Anise can see her hands turning white then red, can feel the rope scratching stories into her skin. Her breathing is heavy and labored as she climbs, putting one hand in front of the other. Occasionally she wonders if Gabby's fallen to her death, but knows that if she looks back she may not have the strength to look back up. So teeth gritted, she climbs.

But finally they're safe, stumbling into a deserted hallway in the aftermath of a warzone. Pottery lies shattered, Gabby delicately shakes blood off of her shoe from a large, dark puddle that lies adjacent to them. The room seems to be spinning, as mutts spin past with glowing screens that illuminate Gabby's face with an eerily light, despite the ambient light around them. What a strange world.

Meanwhile, Gabby slams into a wall as she dashes towards a door. Everything here's a trap, Anise thinks, walking after her ally (who's now walking on the wall). Her eyes calmly sweep the hallway as Gabby opens the door, suddenly falling back onto the ground. Anise hears the echoes of footsteps, slowly fading into the distance. She looks left, right, staring at the empty hallway. The puddle of blood glistens on the floor.

It's silent for a moment, and she breathes, letting the air fill her lungs and rush through her bloodstream. Her heartbeat slows, her muscles relax. Here goes nothing. She jumps, gravity sending her through flying through the door opening, where she lands with a thud on both feet.

The air here smells strange, a warm breeze tinged with salt - she's never felt this before, but the way that Gabby's running ahead means that she must understand what's going on. So Anise heads after her, noting the walls turning bluer by the minute, light refracting off the tiles. Anise sees steam wafting past her as the world turns wet and moist.

In front of her lies the most beautiful pool she's ever seen - its smooth surface glistening with a jewel-like quality. This is new. In District 2 the only thing that swimming pools are is gross, a chlorinated mixture of sweat, water and urine that students are forced to adapt to. The sheer thought of that makes Anise's stomach churn and she frowns, walking ever closer to the edge. The room itself is relatively empty, save for three fluffy bathrobes that lie behind her, hanging on the door.

"Fucking hell," Gabby exclaims, immediately stripping down. For the second time today, Anise looks away. And then back. "Wait are you- aARGH"

The splash that Gabrielle Bellamonte makes into the pool is large, drenching Anise's legs and sending her back to shelter. Great, she thinks. Fifty-two people and I'm with the most reckless person in both arenas. Sighing, she walks closer to the edge, staring at the surface. It doesn't seem poisonous (yet), and the salt is almost pleasant on her skin. So she strips, taking off her tuxedo pants (because she doesn't want them to be even more wet) and sitting down at the water's edge. Slowly she washes her feet, scrubbing off the dirt from the Garden, the mansion, the overgrown walls. They're already a bit scraped from all the running, and especially from the tiled rooftops - but still, better than the high heels her stylist tried to get her to wear.

When Gabby resurfaces Anise leans forward. "If this water's toxic I blame you.".

[sadniss everdeen]

Gabrielle Bellamonte

Being under the water was always your favourite place. The world cuts out like you've stuffed your head with cotton, and you're alone with your thoughts and your heartbeat and your lungs that stay still for the precious few seconds you're submerged. It's another universe here, somewhere kinder, and the water licks your wounds as you float.

"If this water's toxic I blame you." She's perched on the edge of the wall, eyeing it like it could kill, and the laugh you let out is entirely too pleased for your situation. But there's water in your ears and your fingertips are soft and all the cuts and bruises you've gathered just... fade away.

(The tremble in your joints is only going to get worse before it gets better. You suppose three years of morphling will do that to a person, but for now you let your first lover cradle you in an embrace that's better than any of the drugs ever could, her million-armed embrace cutting the flush crawling over your skin. You don't want to explain it to Anise, don't want to look her in the eye and expose that this alternate reality isn't so strange when you've been living away from the real world for so long, but she'll figure it out eventually.)

"Nah, it's just saltwater," you grin, dipping your head under for a moment and re-emerging closer. Her feet paddle and warp under the surface and all of a sudden you itch to grab them. "I'd know that smell even if I was dead."

You also know the scent of blood mixed with seawater, a mix of copper and salt and other things that you can't quite name, but you hope she won't have to learn it like you.

"In fact," you say slyly, paddling until your shoulders bump her shins and you can see the dilation of her pupils in this refracted light, "it's really good for... wounds!" Your hands dart out, wet and tight around her wrists, and when you kick your feet up against the side of the pool and push outwards, she doesn't stand a chance. Anise falls on top of you with a splash and a whump and oh, was that a curse? You're forced underwater again, your body doing its best to keep her afloat, but you're laughing as you go down and swallow saltwater; it burns going down, but it's a good hurt.


"What's wrong, career?" you ask, finding your feet and unabashedly admiring the way her top sticks to her in all the right angles, "Can't swim?"

[shrimp]

anise himura

As Gabby drifts closer Anise continues scrubbing her feet, her eyebrows furrowing as the tips of her sleeves are dipped in water. She shrugs off the pink jacket as the air around her causes her skin to pucker, the hairs standing up on her arm. But just as soon as it starts, it stops - the moisture causes sweat to caress her skin, and as she kicks her feet she feels the weight of the ocean against her. Just saltwater, Gabby says. Let's hope so.

"In fact," Gabby remarks, her shoulders bumping against Anise so softly she hardly notices. "it's really good for... wounds!"

Suddenly she's sent flying, her wrists snatched by the sea monster as she careens into the pool with a shriek and a "FUCK", a bellyflop as ungraceful as anything she's ever seen. She's scrambling in the water, limbs flailing left right up down as she struggles to make it to air. As she breaks the surface with a loud gasp Gabby makes a snide remark, and the worst she can do is glare at the girl as she works on swimming back to the side of the pool.

Slowly but surely, she grasps the side of the pool, turning back towards Gabby. She moves a piece of hair out of her face as she spits the salt out of her mouth. Breathe in, breathe out. Anise feels the air rush into her lungs as the pressure builds under the water, sailing through her bloodstream as her heart pumps quickly. "I can swim just fine, thanks."

Well, she's in here - might as well learn to live with it. Her shoulder muscles begin to relax as she floats; it's oddly nice, she's never done this before. She used to just get in and out of the pool as fast as possible, waiting for the day to end so that she could go back to the dojo. But there's nothing to do now but wait for death to come and grab them from the depths. How touching.

She closes her eyes and tilts her head back. "We'll have to leave sooner or later. Someone's bound to find us."

[sadniss everdeen]

Gabrielle Bellamonte

"Sooner or later isn't now, though." You swim a lazy circle around her as she floats, dipping underwater for a second and watching from underneath as your waves rock her body. The world is quiet here, the water licking the sides of the pool in a calm and predictable rhythm, the light scattering over Anise's upturned face like broken glass put back together lopsided. "I don't really think there'll be anywhere else to do this, so we might as well enjoy it."

Your eyes run over her frame, the wide splay of her arms and how her back forks a little bit so that she has to arch her neck to keep her face above the water. You swim up beside her, quiet and contemplative, before putting a hand on her curl of her hip. "Keep your ass up so you don't sink," you murmur, planting your other hand squarely beneath her. You can't help yourself, flexing your fingers to get a handful. (That's one thing careers are good for... their bodies are always so nice.) "You've certainly got enough back there to make it work."

She scoffs but only opens her eyes for a second, undoubtedly lulled into the half-stupor the water always brings with it. You hold her there for a second, treading water absently to keep yourself afloat; your mother used to have stories of mermaids and how they gave their souls to the sea in sacrifice for scales and song, drinking in the saltwater and letting their lungs grow heavy and useless in their chest. When you were young you always told her you'd grow to be one when you were older, shedding your human skin and diving into the depths, far away from this place and these people and this practice that sends children to die. You didn't know that she'd become water-logged first, swept away in a swell that not even a mermaid could swim through. Maybe you'll follow her footsteps, but there's a nagging feeling in you that you're destined to die on the ground.

Eventually, you can let go of her without risking her skin. You dive under and relish in the full-body embrace, opening your eyes despite the sting and trailing your wrinkling fingers along the bottom of the pool. Each tile is smooth like blown glass and maybe it is, catching the light and reflecting it back until the whole bottom glows. If you could you'd stay here forever; you use your arms to pull you along the bottom until your lungs are so close to bursting it hurts, surfacing half-way down and close to the middle.

No matter where you look it's just water closed in by steam and salt. It's your own personal heaven in the middle of hell, and the smile hasn't left your face since you jumped in.

Still, you lazily make your way back to Anise. You can feel her eyes on you though you pretend not to notice, turned the best she can without sinking to the bottom. Considering the educations in the Districts, you aren't even sure if the others have water to swim in, and the thought makes you frown. When you dip under the surface you come up right next to her, close enough to see the water rivulets running down the bridge of her nose and caught in the shell of her upturned ear.

"What?" she asks when you continue to stare, and you give a one-shouldered shrug, your smile hidden by the water.

"I could teach you, y'know. If you want."

[shrimp]

anise himura

There are many things that Anise can say, should say (she's imagined thirty-four scenarios, a third of which result in punching Gabby in the face) when someone grabs her ass, but the hands supporting her are solid and confident and just once (and only once, she doesn't need to make this a regular occasion in a zero-sum game), it feels nice.

Then she scoffs as the water takes her for its own. Anise doesn't realize when Gabby lets go until her body floats downwards and her nose is overtaken by burning salt. She sputters, blinking twice as she doggy-paddles back to the side as she notes the shifting color in the water. Gabby's submerged, heading down down down into the deep and all Anise can do is watch. The way Gabby moves is magical, powerful, and she sails across the sea almost effortlessly.

Anise Himura doesn't truly know why Gabby Bellamonte is here, but she knows that she's someone Anise didn't think about in her algorithm. Perhaps she was just forgettable - Anise can't remember her training score (and she had written down all of them, memorizing faces to numbers and numbers to danger) and most of what she gathered was from a single conversation over a haze of bitter spirits that danced around her mind. Not much to go on. But here, this is her element.

When Gabby resurfaces, Anise is alarmed - she didn't hear her sneak up like that. But then she keeps staring. A shrug.

"What?"

"I could teach you, y'know. If you want."

Anise raises an eyebrow.

---

They spend what seems like hours slowly drowning Anise, as she awkwardly glides through water and sinks down towards the depths. Each gasp is a miracle in itself, a reminder that she's alive she's here she's not dead yet and perhaps it's her own stubbornness that keeps her at it. She's not great, not by a long shot, but she manages. Eyes squint open for one-point two seconds before slamming back shut, but she can see the light rays refracting through the water, the air, painting the world rainbow. Sometimes, she thinks Gabby is laughing at it all.

Lying on the deck, Anise wonders if the moisture will ever evaporate from her pores, or if the salt will remain a part of her until she draws her last breath.

"Is this what it's like? In four?"

[sadniss everdeen]

Gabrielle Bellamonte

She isn't graceful like the kids from back home; she uses her arms too much and her legs too little and breaths in odd, stuttering gasps because she can't find a rhythm under the water, but you don't think you've smiled this much in months. You take her hands and help her tread water until she can't, and her grip is strong and firm and fine, maybe you came here to die alone, but humans are selfish creatures and you're glad these last days will be spent with someone. She's nothing like you expected but maybe that's the best thing you could hope for.

Later, when your throat is raw from the salt and your eyes sting red and watery, you haul yourselves out and splay on the wet tile. The ceiling is vaulted and reminds you of the churches found in the ruins, great sprawling things demolished during the wars. Only a few pictures are left in books that shouldn't exist, but you watch the light play over the ceiling and form shapes that can't be anything other than holy.

"Is this what it's like? In Four?" She isn't looking at you, and you're too enraptured by the show up above, but the laugh that comes out of your mouth is half-nostalgic and half-bitter.

"The sea is better," you say with a soft sigh. "It smells different, and it's warmer. There's a constant push and pull from the waves, and under the water the sand feels like silk between your toes."

There isn't much time for play, but the sea is the one thing that ties your district together. You were a laughing toddler the first time you tasted the sea, an errant wave bowling you over and sending you sprawling into the sand, but from the first second it lapped at your toes you were in love. The love affair persisted even after it took everything from you because you couldn't blame it for doing what it knows; you tried, you did, but the hatred never stuck.

"You have to learn to respect it, though. My parents didn't. They always went out further and further for a better catch, and one day the waves got rough and they never came back."

It doesn't hurt the same way it used to. Maybe you've numbed yourself with all the morphling and the trauma between then and now, watching the bodies of people you barely knew sent out to sea and the water around them churning a bright, blooming red. Maybe it's been so long that the emotions have just washed away. You've let go of their ghosts to make room for others.

"It's still hard. We had a tsunami a while ago that wiped out a lot of the coastal folk, we're still finding bodies buried under forgotten rubble years later." You turn onto your side, watching the smooth rise and fall of her chest.
"What about Two? It's the Peacekeeper District, right? Is it strict living there?"

[shrimp]

anise himura

"What?"

"I could teach you, y'know. If you want."

She doesn't know what she expected - of course it's different, Anise realizes as her right hand grazes the smoothness of the title, a cerulean that glints in the golden glow. The air, the colors, the temperature; Gabby remarks on how the waves push and pull while Anise stares at the liquid mirror ahead of them, remarking on how before they jumped in it was pristine, like nothing had ever touched its surface. Now it ripples gently, inertia losing its battle.

Anise doesn't react when Gabby mentions her parents; Anise has nothing to say, and she's sure Gabby wouldn't want to hear it. Her father would have done the same, siting quietly as the tea brewed on their rusted kettle, a small meal of stew gone cold on the tableside. It's the quiet, she figures, that she misses. The caress of a ceramic mug. The feel of textured mats digging into her skin.

Gabby turns. "What about Two? It's the Peacekeeper District, right? Is it strict living there?"

"Technically," Anise starts, shifting her weight so her back's against the wall. "We're the Stone Masonry district." That happens to recruit and train Peacekeepers. She rolls her eyes. All ears must be turned towards something else by now - Anise's watched enough games to know how the Capitol hates spreading information. So what she says next truly doesn't matter.

"It's fine," she states, scratching at her arm. "We live through a mountain range. We used to be medical so there's a lot of labs still finishing up their work." But she doesn't pay attention to that, and she's sure Gabby doesn't actually care about two's ever booming industry. And at this point, neither does she. "It's not strict, but the people have attitude problems. Too many God complexes per square mile."

Haughty, arrogant. But what does she know? Perhaps they call her the same thing. "We run a small training center outside of the mountain: fencing, mostly. So I see a lot of that."

[sadniss everdeen]

Gabrielle Bellamonte

"Fencing? No wonder you drew your sword like that." You twist around on the tile to look at your twin piles of clothing, the sword lying close to the edge. Its petals seem almost stark against the bright blue landscape it's found itself, a splash of the earth in a world of the ocean. (Or the sky? In this place, you aren't sure the distinction is so clear.) A breath of life in a reality that's nothing but manmade.

"I've seen something like that used once," you say before you can help yourself, the twitch of your fingers the only reminder of the body pinned to the ballroom wall. His tuxedo turned to a red bib under the watch of so many eyes. You don't carry it further lest it unbury itself from the hole you interred it in years ago, but recently the creeping feeling that your past demons will crawl out from the very walls themselves in crude crayon in the days to come.

You roll to mirror her, slipping on the tiles beneath you. "Does this mean you'll save me? A knight in shining armor?" A snort. "I'm sorry to disappoint, but I'm no princess."

Anise laughs, a loud throaty one that goes on for half a second.
"Thanks for the clarification."

You grin back. "That's not a no."

Inside, the light dims. The bright shards that had painted the two of you in red and green turns into burnished gold, the blue deepening to an aquamarine glow. Shadows begin to play under Anise's cheekbones and across your wrists and the water darkens like a storm begins to sweep over it. It isn't sinister but more somber than before, the light shrinking away and packing up and the air changes, just a little bit. Your wounds are softer under your skin and you wish you could stay, just for tonight.

"Why did you volunteer?" you ask suddenly. Maybe you don't need to know, but you want to regardless. It's important to know the person that will be watching your back as you sleep. "You could've stayed with your dojo."

[shrimp]

anise himura

The world grows quiet after the question is asked. The shadows turn dark, navy blues scattering the emeralds and citrines, replaced by light wisps of teal that wave back and forth, lavenders that dance in the heavens. The shadows are deep plum that never truly grow black. Anise stretches, feels the joints in her back crack like dominoes.

There's much more interesting conversations than this one, she's sure they're not watching. Right? She wonders if even this late at night, the monsters are still out to play, if life-wine is dripping from someone's arteries at this very moment. Somewhere, as if on cue, a cannon booms, the tenth one today.

"Forty-two," she states, as she moves to sit up, eyes glancing skyward (or perhaps hell-ward, for who truly knows what plane of existence they're currently living in?). She glances at the window once more before grabbing a crayon. "We should suit up. The more tributes there are the more equipment we'll need."

She starts with her hands, the pale blue drawn tenderly along each finger, delicate but precise, the lines thin but confident, elegant. The crosshatching is quick but precise. Lines track across her veins, branching over her wrists and stopping a third of the way towards her elbow. Her head is next as she snaps the purple crayon in half, using both hands for symmetry as she slowly but carefully draws a helmet. For a moment she wonders how silly it looks, the wax sketched onto her skin and hands, before throwing that thought away and continuing.

As they form around her body she figures she's done enough stalling.

"I'm here because I have to be." Her tone's different, softer, quieter. Her mind proceses, determines four ways to explain it to Gabby without it backfiring back in two; their districts after all are different, regardless of their Career status. The one time she went to four she stayed in the Olympic Village training, the breeze never wafting into the carefully controlled environment. Perhaps the air makes people calmer, or the lower altitude reduces the pressure.

"In two, and in our line of work" she starts. "It's a fluke if you've never trained a tribute. I'm fixing that. Now, watch our hands."

Anise takes Gabby's crayon and starts drawing on her ally's body, smooth lines that radiate from her chest and wrap their way around her body. Shoulder pads for added protection, a strap for removal, the lines thicker around the outlines to prevent strange shenanigans. It's exacting, but not severe; the shading is gradual, and curls around her partner's torso in a caress.

When it finishes bubbling, Anise pauses before asking.  "And you?"



[Anise draws on gloves with Periwinkle]
[Anise draws a helmet with Wisteria]
[Anise draws torso armor on Gabby with (Gabby's) Periwinkle]

[sadniss everdeen]

Gabrielle Bellamonte

It's always something of a working miracle, watching the armor take shape. It bubbles and seethes over her, closing her damp skin from the outside world. A living thing that devours.

"I'm here because I have to be." And isn't that just a repeating anthem, stretched out over seventy five years? Honour hangs differently on some shoulders than others - your family has been taken by the waves and the knife alike, and the severing of ties let you float up so far you spent years in the clouds. Anise looks like a woman tethered to the earth with a body too heavy to let go.

The touch of her crayon is gentle, almost tender. Her word softens to match and you take the offering for what it is, silently allowing her to draw armor on your bare flesh. You tilt your head when it runs over the dip of your collarbone, letting it lick your ribs and curve over your hips. A new meaning to the term painted on; it starts to manifest before she's even done, rippling to life as a glossy purple-grey plate. It's warm, and if you close your eyes you could mistake it for her finger trailing across your flesh.

You hear her intake of breath and know what's next, but you keep your eyes shut. It's easier that way. "And you?

It seems so stupid when you put it against reasons like hers. Carrying a legacy on her shoulders that defies just her, and you running away from a past that never ceases to shackle your ankles to black water. "I came here to die."

It's so simple, but the weight of them presses down over you in a way that's most certainly not just your new plate. You open your eyes and give a half-smile, skewed lopsided on your mouth and showing just the barest hints of teeth. Her hand stalls for long enough that you notice it, but you just sit up despite it.

"I've been living on time that isn't my own for years," you say, reaching over to pick up her goldenrod crayon. You roll it between your fingers and get gold dust on your skin before leaning forward, stretching the skin of her collar to make your first line. Wherever your fingers trail the crayon follows, not daring to hesitate in your strokes lest it ruin the final product. Your fingertips hook in the divot of her shoulder-blade and the muscles underneath your touch coil and release like pulled on individual strings. No shoulder pads, but interlocking bands along her ribs to dissuade a knife that would sneak between them. "But I realized I didn't really want to die alone, so instead I'm going to broadcast it for the entire nation to see."

A faint smile tugs your lips upward, amused and satisfied all at once as her breastplate writhes to life across her chest.

Suddenly exposed, you turn, reaching for your pantyhose only to find them in a ripped and crumpled heap. You hesitate only for a second before picking up your wisteria crayon, stretching your legs out in front of you and doing your best to colour in the gaps of your flesh. Thicker pigment on the outside to serve as plates, a belt with a buckle in the center to keep them up. They end at your ankles and stick like another skin has grown from the old.

Before you get up, you sketch a quick replica of the teapot you'd seen on the ground with the yellow-orange crayon. You snatch it up before it's even fully formed and dunk it in the water, capping it carefully and placing it in your angry green backpack. "We should get going. I don't want to run into anyone else today."

[used Anise's goldenrod crayon]
[used her wisteria crayon]
[used her yellow-orange crayon]
[created a teapot, collected saltwater]

[shrimp]

anise himura

This is a filler!
> slight frown, furrowed eyebrows at Gabby - she's not trying to judge but her life was in her hands and she's chosen to die just because she wants to.  Although truthfully, Anise can't say that she did it any differently. #hyprocritical much?
> it's not her business though, not her life.
> is aware that Gabby feels exposed, feels bad for thinking anything about Gabby's reasoning. it's entirely her own.
> Anise gives Gabby her hand, helps Gabby to her feet
> Gabby performs F/A on Anise for -3
> The two leave the room
> "Lets get out of here."

[sadniss everdeen]

Gabrielle Bellamonte

Filler!
Gabby takes the hand and decides to fuck off. Wow, that's more than enough being emotionally available for one century. They get up to the top of the roof and sees the salt flats shimmering, decides to go there. Scoops Anise up and takes a running fucking leap off the roof and into the unknown thanks to her winged backpack.