RP Something to Remember


Their mind is slow to clear, but there’s a hand on Lark’s arm that they recognize. Pressure, holding them back as much as reassuring them. Rough hands, raised scars. Their own hand lifts to touch the side of their head, pressing it over the shorn hair as though to staunch some invisible wound. Their face is terribly blank. “Ha.”

So that’s what happened, they muse, trying to push down the dark twisting mass that has taken residence in their chest. The cracks in their sanity run deeper than anyone can know, but they paste the momentary lapse with duct tape and a practiced smile. They lower their hand and put it out of their mind. “It’s alright. That was my bad.”

Their younger self hasn’t said a word, just staring at them with unblinking eyes and clinging to their arm like a piece of driftwood in a flood. They look horrified. That won’t do, not here. Taking a breath, Lark reaches over to brush a stray braid behind their ear, leaning in close to whisper something. As though waiting for that signal, the other Lark unlatches themself and disappears in a flash of light.

“I hope you don’t mind if I take over.” They remember to say, once they’re already alone with Lily and the diminishing crowd on the boat. All of the pirates have gathered along the side, jeering at the fleeing intruders.

They offer Lily their hand, having seemingly forgotten the shallow cut on their arm. The minute tremors that run through them are new, but their smile is ancient. “Shall we find someplace a little quieter, Lily Pond?”

Her name leaves their lips like the gift that it is, and they don’t allow the bittersweet melancholy in their mind to taint it. This day is for her.

 

Lily expected a lot of things when she almost brutally stabbed Lark. She expected them to be upset at her lack of control, to be panicked because they nearly died, maybe even just to be worried because Lily normally has such control over herself and her movements so something must be wrong for her to screw up that badly.

What she didn’t expect was the sheer blankness on their face, as though their life hadn’t just flashed before their eyes. It was worse than that, worse than the face of someone who just zoned out. That was the expression of someone who was deeply, painfully not okay, but if they let even a little of that emotion through they would shatter into a million pieces and never be whole again.

She knew that face well. She’d worn it a lot while she was working for the Lotus.

Then came the smile and Lily’s heart broke a little. She knew that she couldn’t help Lark, they didn’t trust her enough, had no reason to trust her any farther than they could throw her. Which might have been far, Lily didn’t know how much strength lay within Lark’s willowy figure.

She pushed those thoughts out of her mind as the Lark that brought her here vanished, a whisper let loose that was only for their ears. This was a day for her and Lark, and any bad thoughts could be shoved into the closet for later. Lily took Lark’s hands, calluses and scars shifting and scraping against each other, both hands worn and practiced. Lily looked up at Lark, taking in the sun, the sea, the wind, the shining silver, and smiled at them, filling it with all the happiness that she’d experienced over the day.

“I would love to, Lark.” She can’t help but give them a wink. “You sure know how to show a girl a good time.”
​
 
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Lark’s smile loses some of that unnatural evenness, crooking up more at one corner than the other. Something in their eyes softens. They squeeze Lily’s hands gently, then seem embarrassed by their own gesture, pink touching the tips of their ears. They don’t draw back, though, just… reach out and let time go still so that they can look at her. For a moment. Just a moment, and then they’ll go.

“Hold on tight,” they remind her, sliding their hands up to her wrists for a firmer grasp. It wouldn’t do to be separated mid-travels. Green static builds in their hair, more obvious in the section newly shorn, and they let the river of Time wash over the both of them. It feels like being caught in a crashing wave, but only for a second, as Lark pulls them out again with a gentle tug.

They land in a forest, green and alive with the sounds of midday animals. There’s another Lark sitting on the edge of a brook and cooling their feet in the clear water. The Lark holding Lily whisks them away again before their past self can look up.

And it’s like a static shock, or a crisp breath of winter air. Then another tug, and the din of people talking and laughing washes over them. A gathering, somewhen, and there’s a Lark sitting on the edge of a picnic table just visible around the edge of a barn. They’re chatting animatedly with someone out of sight, their hands flying into wide gestures. The sun hovers a few hours above the horizon, casting long shadows. Lark murmurs “almost there,” and they’re off again, the familiar-unfamiliar sensation of the Timestream rising up to greet the both of them once more.

A fine mist collecting into droplets on your skin, or the crash of thunder, or grass brushing against your legs. A life you haven’t lived. A life you have. The snapshots are gone as quickly as they arrive, washed from their memory as Lark plants their feet on solid ground.

“Here we are,” they announce, allowing Lily a moment to steady herself before they loosen their grip. The meadow they now stand in is lit by the moon and a lantern resting on a picnic blanket, and they briefly glimpse a Lark adding the final touches to the setup. The other Lark doesn’t stick around for long, a flash of green light heralding their exit.

It’s quiet but for the sound of crickets and cicadas, which means it isn’t all that quiet really, but the night is warm and there’s a genuine picnic basket full of snacks waiting for them, so they hope she likes it.

 

Lily couldn’t help but return the energy that Lark gave, her own smiling growing in response to theirs. Her cheeks reddened faintly in response to their ears, although Lily definitely didn’t notice. She was too busy desperately trying not to get lost in those emerald pools. Contact with Lark was rare, brief, rarely more than a high-five in terms of time. Lily was almost definitely trying to ignore the fact that they were so close, at how well their hands fit in hers.

Lark’s grip shifted, and the stone broke the pond’s surface. Lily tried not to physically shake herself out of her daze, even if she was doing so mentally. She shifted her grip onto Lark’s wrists to keep herself anchored to them, and remembered to squeeze her eyes shut this time. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to endure another eyeful of the timestream.

As opposed to their prior trip, which has been a rough ride full of jostles and sparks and stomach turning, this felt like briefly submerging into a staticky ocean before surfacing once more, briefly losing contact with the ocean floor before finding it again. Lily warily opened her eyes as soon as she felt solid ground beneath her feet. The silver hair caught her attention first, and she almost called out to the Lark before she was pulled back under, submerged in the timestream once again.

When they emerged once more, Lily saw them again, older this time, throwing their head back in laughter. Something in Lily’s chest tightened as she wished she could hear that laugh forever. Eyes lingering on Lark just visible by a barn, Lily’s last sight was a flash of brunette hair across from them before she was pulled down once more.

And so it went, Lark briefly surfacing before diving into the timestream once more, memories and dreams and lives and sensations where the only constant was silver hair and a pair of green eyes that looked old no matter which face they stared out from. Until finally, they emerged for good.

The space around them was quiet, broken only by Lark’s announcement of their arrival. Lily stared up at the moon, taking a deep breath of the crisp air before her eyes drifted to the other light source in the meadow. A soft smile spread across her face as she saw a lantern resting on a blanket, a picnic basket, and a telltale green flash as another Lark made themself scarce, having adjusted the brightness of the lantern.

Lark loosened their grip, and Lily followed suit. But she didn’t remove her hand from Lark’s. Not yet. She began moving forward, hoping their hands wouldn’t separate, until she was on the edge of the blanket. Lily sank down, smiling up at Lark, something unnameable in her eyes, something sweet and sad and hopeful but reserved.

“This is beautiful.” She said softly, before teasing. “Although if you’ve brought me out here for a picnic only to have an empty basket, I’m afraid I might have to start walking home.” She let out a laugh before patting the blanket beside her.
​
 

Lily doesn’t let go of their hand, and Lark finds that they don’t want her to let go. It’s a new kind of feeling, or maybe just one they haven’t let themself linger on for… some time, now. Something soft that flutters its wings just beneath their skin, making its home in their ribcage. They can let themself have this. For now.

And so they trail after her, standing dumbly when she sits down and her hand leaves theirs. Time isn’t as insistent here, for whatever reason. It’s easier to ignore, easier to lose track of. It’s why they chose this particular spot.

They sit beside her when she beckons, close enough that their knees brush, with the excuse that the picnic blanket isn’t all that large, what with all the things piled on it. And they laugh along with her, reaching for the basket and dragging it closer. “Oh please, I’m not that cruel.”

Indeed, opening the basket reveals a layer of bagged chips and cookies, bottles of water and cider propped in the corners. Under the bags are two paper-wrapped sandwiches, the sticker holding the paper together boldly proclaiming their origin: Subway.

“What do you like on your sandwiches?” they ask, covering the order labels with their hand. “No cheating!”

The sandwiches are warm under their hand, made even moreso in contrast to the cool breeze toying with stray wisps of their hair. The benefits of time travel; if they want warm food, they rarely have to wait for it. In a linear sense, anyways.

 

Their hands slipped apart as Lark kept standing when she sat down. For a brief moment, worry tickled at Lily’s mind as she wondered if she’d done something wrong. Lark seemed to shake themselves out of whatever daze they were in, however, and planted themselves next to her, close enough that their knees brushed. Lily adjusted her position on the crowded blanket, and if her knees ended up more firmly in contact with Lark’s well then that was just how sitting on the blanket had to work.

Her stomach growled embarrassingly as Lark opened the basket and the smell of warm sandwiches hit her nose, reminding her of all the activity they’d done over the past day. Had it really only been a day? It seemed like it had been so much longer, in the best possible way. Lily thought for a moment, as all thoughts of what food she liked flew out of her head as the light glinted off Lark’s hair.

“Hmmm. Honestly I just like food. Lotta meat, lotta veggies, oh! Olives, I love olives. And sweet chili stuff, I don’t know why just the combination of sweet and spicy hits different, y’know?” She glanced back at Lark, cheeks reddening slightly at her excited tangent about food. To cover her embarrassment, Lily reached into the basket and pulled out two bottles of cider. A cobalt blade appeared in her hand, and she expertly popped the caps off, sending them flying it into the air before catching them both with her now blade-free hand.

“So what about you?” Lily asked while offering a bottle to Lark. “What sandwich toppings make the great and enigmatic Lark’s stomach grumble?” She took a sip and let her eyes scan the area around them. It was beautiful, it was calm, they were beaut-. They were beautiful. Lily let herself have that thought. For once she’d let herself have it.
​
 

Lark peeks under their hand after Lily has described her preference, and it’s easy to pick out which is hers. It’s the one with barbecue sauce and jalapeños. They take it out and set it in front of her. “Oh, that’s a tricky one. I’ll eat pretty much anything, so I usually just order one of the specials. If I had to say, though… carrots. I love me a good carrot, or really anything crunchy. If it wasn’t banned in all 50 states, I’d ask them to put chips on it.”

Their eyes crinkle a little as they smile down at their own sandwich, tracing one finger over the shiny-smooth sticker holding the paper wrapper in place. “It’s like a little surprise! Variety is the spice of life, after all.”

The blue glow of her blade catches their eye, and they watch with open amusement as she uses it to open the cider bottles. So that’s why they didn’t have a bottle opener. They take their drink, their fingers brushing hers. Something electric races down their arm from that touch, and they hold her gaze just a second too long.

They look away first, raising the bottle to their lips and letting the sweet taste of apples replace their longing for something else.

“Where’d you learn to do that? The glowing weapon thing, I mean. Is it only blades?” They pick at the wrapper of their sandwich, carefully unfolding it rather than tearing through it. It gives them something to do that isn’t gazing longingly in her direction.

 

For one brief, striking moment, Lily could clearly see in her mind’s eye a Lark with floppy silver rabbit ears and buck teeth. She couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought, tucking the image away with the rest of the experiences of today. Had it really only been a day? It felt like so much more, like she’d spent days and weeks with Lark, and yet she certainly wasn’t complaining. She didn’t know when they’d disappear again, so she’d take every second they could give her.

“You’re probably the kind of person who likes crunchy peanut butter instead of creamy, like us civilized folks.” She said haughtily, turning her nose up before grinning again, unable to keep the act up for much more than a few seconds. She watched the curve of Lark’s throat as they drank before taking a swig of her own cider, relishing the tingling in her fingertips from their brief contact.

The smile dipped a little as she prolonged answering Lark’s question, instead unwrapping her sandwich, the smells of spice and smoke dancing along her nostrils. Lily eagerly sank her teeth in, relishing the sweet, spicy, tangy flavor of a sub that had been made specially for her. She swallowed after a few moments, accounting for how large of a bite she’d taken. Lily was hungrier than she thought. Fighting on a pirate ship tended to do that, she supposed.

“I think I started being able to summon weapons when I was 10? That feels about right.” Lily set her sandwich down, not wanting to talk with a mouth full. “I always loved martial arts, and I was really good at it. At a certain point, I was just able to make the weapons I was supposed to be training with.” Lily twisted her hand and a two-foot-long baton appeared in her hand.

“It’s not just blades, but martial arts weapons were all I could really do until, well…” Lily trailed off as she realized what part of the story she’d gotten to. How was she supposed to say this without bringing the mood down?

“Guess it’s time for the ‘your friend was part of a cult for a few years’ talk, huh?” Lily tried to force out a chuckle, attempting to soften the blow to their happy mood.
​
 

“You like creamy peanut butter?” Lark blurts, genuinely offended on their own behalf. Their drink tips dangerously to one side as they fall back to their elbows, the longer half of their hair brushing across the grass as they shake their head. The offense doesn’t last, of course, falling back to their typical grin in moments. “You think you know someone.”

It’s quiet for a few seconds, then, and they pick at their sandwich, speeding up its deconstruction in their quest for cucumbers and carrot slices to munch on. The stars are out in full force tonight, and they instinctively search for a constellation they recognize. It’s probably for the best that Lily speaks up when she does, before they can find any. There are memories there they don’t want to linger on, at least not tonight.

“It can be that time, if you want it to be,” they say after a moment, turning so that she has their full attention. Their sandwich threatens secession from their lap at this angle, so they carefully lay it out on the blanket instead. Their hands smooth the creases in said blanket for lack of anything more productive to do, but it seems rude to snack on their meal while Lily is sharing her story.

Privately, they really do wonder if ‘friends’ is the right word to use, for the both of them. But that’s a dangerous thought, very dangerous, and they steer away from it as best they can.

 
“Yeah, sure, laugh it up sandwich gravel enjoyer.” Lily shot back, eyes narrowing as she defended her honor from the uncultured time traveler. Her gaze softened almost immediately as the soft crescent of Lark’s smile lit up her night. A moment of silence passed between them, that awkward moment that Lily was hoping to avoid.

She decided to fill the space with sandwich instead, chewing thoughtfully as she mulled over her next words. She couldn’t help but let out a little laugh of surprise when she saw the state of decay that Lark’s sub had reached. It was rapidly approaching open-faced territory, and some could even argue that it was on the verge of becoming a bread bowl that only contained meat and cheese.

Unfortunately for Lily, this little laugh caused her to inhale, and she had yet to learn how to summon a spectral pair of bread-breathing lungs. She coughed and hacked for a moment before taking a careful sip of cider to try and ease the pain in her throat. After a few shaky breaths to ensure that any crumbs had been dislodged, she gave Lark a shaky grin.

“Didn’t think I’d be talking about my ex today, but hey, stranger things have happened.” Lily settled back, her eyes moving towards the skies as she mentally flipped through the years. “There was a girl I was dating at the time, Kira. She had a power to, she could make things glow neon. Not much of a power, and I felt like she was a little jealous, so I wanted to do something more for her.” Lily tried to hurry through this part of the story. Talking about an ex in front of Lark felt wrong, like she was advertising someone who had weighed Lily and found her wanting.

“There was this group of metas, whose leader could grant people powers or augment them if they were already present. They talked about giving power to the people, making ordinary people into heroes.” It was hard to hide the notes of admiration and awe that crept into her voice, even all this time after they’d left her behind. “They had a recruiting event where they took control of a train and convinced people to join. I knew this was my chance to prove myself, to earn a spot for Kira and for me in this organization. So I fought my way to the front.”

Lily remembered that fight vividly. Running through the cars, trading blows with her soon-to-be mentors, sparing her final opponent, showing mercy to one who would eventually show her none.

“I got what I wanted. Kira and I were brought into the Lotus. Both of our powers got amplified. Her pretty lights became deadly lasers, and I was suddenly able to start manifesting limbs instead of just weapons. I could use them to strike harder, block from new angles, or multiply my own strength and agility.” Lily wondered if she could even handle going back to how she was, if her new powers had become spectral muscle memory, how much weaker she’d feel if it was taken away.

“I trained. Kira and I saw each other less and less, as we were better suited for different tasks.” Or at least that’s what they were told. Perhaps the Lotus had been trying to separate them the whole time, severing any bond that was not exclusively theirs.

“Everything was fine, even had a handful of missions. They all succeeded, and I enjoyed the work. Then came Vegas, and everything went shitty.” Lily went to take another swig of cider and realized her bottle was empty. She grabbed another, popping the top off and gesturing to Lark to see if they wanted another.​
 

Lark watches quietly, and after Lily has hit her stride they resume picking at their sandwich, judging that it might be easier if she doesn’t feel like their full attention is on her. They try to keep their expression neutral, but they can’t help darting their eyes towards Lily when she sings the praises of her former leader. She’s almost smiling, and that is… dangerous. They don’t want to see her suckered into rejoining this organization, if she does hit a low point again.

Then again, will they really have a say in the matter, if they aren’t around?

Their expression shutters somewhat, and they take a long sip of their drink. Oh, if only they had the recklessness to let themself have something a little stronger. But alas. They finish off their cider and nod when Lily offers them another.

“Vegas, huh? Nothing good happens there, or so I’ve heard.” Lark honestly doesn’t remember all that much about the city. It’s a little too hustle-and-bustle-y, even for them. They don’t need a special sense to see how quickly time drains away from all the unfortunate souls that flock there. They paid it a visit at some point, they know, just for their completionist goal of having a Lark in every major city, but they don’t bother digging up the details. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, as the saying goes.

 

“Ain’t that the truth.” Lily chuckled nervously as she cracked open another cider and passed it to Lark. She took another swig of her own, setting it down and taking another bite of her sandwich. And another. After the third bite of her sandwich, Lily realized she was stalling. This was where things got dicey. This was where Lark put down their sandwich, grabbed whatever part of her they could, brought her back to her regular time, then left her forever.

She swallowed, the sandwich feeling too large and too dry as it went down. Lily took another sip of cider and let out a breath.

“I murdered the mayor of Las Vegas.” It came out quietly, a confession that slipped through the cracks in the floorboards when she wasn’t paying attention. “That was the mission. She wasn't cooperating with the Lotus, so I killed her.” Her hand went up to the opposite arm, rubbing the bicep. “I lost my arm there. Luckily the Lotus had someone who can regrow your body parts, but hey! I found out I can make arms and legs too. Guess they sort of count as weapons.” She chuckled a little too eagerly, like a cue that she was afraid of missing.

“I also uh, fell out of a penthouse. Didn’t break my back, but it sure felt like I did.” Another chuckle, weaker this time, trailing off at the end into nothingness. She kept her gaze down, sipping at her drink, occasionally glancing up in an attempt to read Lark’s expression before looking away, immediately averting her eyes if they met theirs.
​
 

The bottle is cool against their skin, sweating slightly from the faint heat of the picnic basket. Lark presses it against their face, careful not to spill any. It leaves a bit of moisture behind, like an overly enthusiastic kiss, and they surreptitiously wipe it away with their sleeve, taking a sip from the new bottle to cover the motion. This one has strawberry flavoring.

They try to keep their expression politely neutral, but they can’t help the sympathy that twists their features when they hear about the fight. “That sounds…” What’s the word they’re looking for? Traumatic? Scarring? Too obvious. But they should say something. “... Rough.”

They reach a hand out slowly, unsure what line they’re crossing but sure that there is one, and touch the scar running around the circumference of her arm. Her skin is warm, almost feverish compared to their own, and they’re quiet for a long moment as they trace their fingers lightly along the line of pale skin, then pivot to follow the line of another faded scar that intersects it.

“I’m glad you made it out,” they murmur, quiet as they consider the true ramifications of the network of scars on her arms. Lily is a fighter, in every meaning of the word. Their eyes linger on their own hand for a moment, but just as quickly skitter away. No, their own aren’t really comparable. They never had any doubt that they’d heal from everything that hit them, up until-

The memories they’ve been running from all night finally catch up and they go still, their hand freezing in place. Then they draw back, face horribly blank for a microsecond before time hiccups and they’re smiling again. A little more forced, something wild in their eyes that wasn’t there before.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” they ask, seizing upon the question like a life raft. They run a hand through their hair, hesitate at the new, shorter section, and force their hand back down. Then the thought seems to finish itself, and they reach for her hand, intent on pulling both of them to their feet. “Where do you get your hair done?”

 
“Heh, yeah. I guess it was.” Lily forced out a half-chuckle that died somewhere in her throat. It was too easy to think back to that time, to the agonizing pain that coursed through her, the phantom pain that still caused her to bolt up in the night, memories of jagged fire coiling underneath her skin. So caught up in her head, Lily didn’t notice Lark’s movement until she felt the touch of their skin against hers. It was only the years of training that kept her from leaping out of her skin, away from the sudden contact.

Lily didn’t know where to look. She watched Lark’s fingers trace the scar from her missing arm, their touch somehow softer than she expected. After a moment Lily forced herself to look somewhere else, her gaze tracing up Lark’s scarred and battered hands, up their arms, and settling on their eyes. She was more comfortable admiring Lark this way, when their attention is on something else so they can’t notice her. This way Lily could watch how the light danced along the silver of their hair, the forest green of their eyes and the dark circles that hug them, everything that made ordinary people think they’re just messy and exhausted, when a select few knew that what those really showed was a person who has lived so much life in such a short time, and who had so much left to go. She considered herself lucky to be one of those few.

“I am too.” Lily muttered in response, pushing the rest of her story back to her mind. Lark had heard enough for one day. She realized just how long she’d been staring when she realized Lark’s hand had gone still, along with the rest of them. Her gaze flicked back to meet theirs, just in time to catch something ghost across their face before they settled back into what Lily had sadly come to know as a too-familiar forced smile. Something tightened in her chest, rough and barbed. She wanted to push, to pry, to beg until they told her what was hiding under the surface, what they struggled against when they thought she wasn’t looking.

But Lily swallowed the urge to grab them and pushed it down. They didn’t pry, and neither would she. Instead she let out a laugh at Lark’s question, polishing off her bottle with one last swig before setting it down.

“Sounds like a plan! You showed me a hell of a time, the least I can do is show you a place to get a decent haircut.” Lily grabbed Lark's hands and let them pull her up, groaning as her joints complained from sitting in one place for too long. "I will warn you, though, that place is my apartment." Lily realized that she was still close to them, that their hands were still clasped in hers. But that was fine, right? After all, they needed to be touching to travel out of here. Yeah, that was it. Lily looked up into Lark's eyes and smiled, forcing herself not to pull away or let their hands fall.

“Shall we?”​
 
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Standing up is an awkward endeavor, but Lark manages it, getting their feet under them and then pulling Lily up as they rise. Their cider ends up squeezed in the net of their fingers and Lily’s, and they briefly untangle a hand to set it back in the basket, picking up the whole basket as an afterthought and looping the handle over their arm. They’ll leave the rest of the snacks at Lily’s, they figure.

They turn back from adjusting the basket and… wow, she’s really close to them right now. Their face instantly flushes, even with a hint of distraction still lingering in the jittery way their eyes sweep over the clearing. They clear their throat and reaffirm their grasp on her hands after a moment, pulling themself together.

“Let’s,” they manage, and the world dissolves into a sea of green. They keep their eyes open, letting them drift for a moment as they sift through the anchors near where they want to end up. Ah, there, they can pop in just before they left. There shouldn’t be any displacement for Lily, if they time it right.

There’s a sensation like being pulled through water by a gentle current, and when the green fades they’re standing in Lily’s apartment. It’s a much less disorienting experience than the first jump they took her on, rather like splashing through a stream rather than jumping in the deep end of a pool. They really don’t know what they were thinking, jumping that far in one go.

They keep their hands on Lily’s anyways, just in case there are some residual effects that they’ve stopped noticing, but their grip noticeably loosens. “Here we are. You alright?”

 
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