[INDENT][COLOR=SLATEGRAY][CENTER][sup][sup][h1][center][img] https://media.architecturaldigest.com/photos/672d4a5b823a46b3d7f713e1/16:9/w_2560%2Cc_limit/GettyImages-1867432941.jpg[/img][/center][b][center][color=black] S T . D Y M P H N A ‘ S H O M E[/color] [color=lightgray]S T . D Y M P H N A ‘ S H O M E[/color][/center] [/b][/h1][/sup][/sup] [sup][sup][h1][b][center][color=black] F O R W A Y W A R D Y O U T H S[/color] [color=lightgray]F O R W A Y W A R D Y O U T H S[/color][/center] [/b][/h1][/sup][/sup] [color=silver][sup][i]Joanie | Featuring Marth ([@Memoria])[/i][/sup][/color][/CENTER][/color][/INDENT] The hallway at St Dymphna’s was hot that summer morning. Pretty soon the heat would be unbearable, save for the pockets of cooling that the clunky AC units brought them. It had taken Joanie a few minutes to rouse herself from the sofa she had found her sweaty back stuck to when she had been called. Mrs Qadir had been waiting for her near the door to her office. She smiled as she approached and Joanie quickly realised she wasn’t alone. “Joanie, this is Trey,” Mrs Qadir said, her voice gentle as she stepped aside. A boy emerged from behind her. Thirteen, twelve, maybe. A young kid with dark skin and curls that stuck out in uneven directions, as if he had tried to flatten them and given up halfway through. His eyes were wide and uncertain, taking in the hallway as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to look at anything for too long. When he finally let out a smile, it was bright and warm and completely unguarded. It lit up the whole hallway. “Hey,” he said, lifting a hand in a small wave. He was clearly nervous yet masking it behind a front of confidence. Mrs Qadir gave Joanie’s shoulder a soft squeeze before leaving them alone. The silence that followed felt thick. Joanie stared at him, unsure what she was supposed to say. Trey shifted his weight, glancing at the scuffed skirting boards, then back at her. He looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t know where to start. Joanie cleared her throat. [colour=plum]“Um… I can show you around. If you want.”[/colour] Trey’s shoulders eased a little. “Yeah. That’d be cool.” She started walking, slow enough that he could keep up. [colour=plum]“The living room’s usually loud. People play games in there. Or argue about them.”[/colour] She said, gesturing to the first room they came to. Trey’s eyes flicked up. “Games?” He exclaimed. “They let you play them here?” Joanie nodded before replying. [color=plum]“Vanguard Brawl, mostly.”[/color] Trey stopped walking altogether and his whole face lit up. “No way. You have that?” Joanie blinked, surprised by the sudden burst of energy. [color=plum]“Sometimes.”[/color] “Who do you main? Please don’t say Frostbite. Everyone says Frostbite.” Joanie felt the corner of her mouth twitch. [color=plum]“Ember.”[/color] Trey gasped like she had just revealed a secret treasure. “Ember is amazing. The aerial combos? The fire spin? So good. You’ll have to show me sometime.” He rambled excitedly. “She’s got nothing on Stillpoint though! That guy is so cool.” Joanie shrugged, but the warmth in her chest surprised her. The guy certainly knew his stuff. [color=plum]“Maybe.”[/color] She teased. [color=plum]“Reckon I could still beat you as him though.”[/color] “Nah,” Trey grinned, shaking his head. “Come on. You’re going down!” The two raced towards the game console by the TV, the flare of competition rushing between them. And that was all it took. [hr] [i][color=DEE5F7]“Jₒₐₙᵢₑ”[/color][/i] The voice jolted her awake. Her eyes flickered open and her head pounded. The voice was familiar, yet in this moment she couldn’t place it. Instead she tried to focus herself on the chaos around her. Dust drifted through the air like ash. Joanie lay half‑curled on the pavement, cheek pressed against cold stone, her breath catching in shallow, uneven pulls. Her ribs hurt with every inhale. Her vision pulsed in and out, colours smearing at the edges like wet paint. She couldn’t stop seeing the moment Trey vanished. The bubble collapsing. The empty space where he had been. The way her scream tore out of her throat before she even realised she was making a sound. He was gone. Trey was gone. Voices rose above her, sharp and frantic, cutting through the ringing in her ears. “This is bad. This is really bad.” “Dane’s gone. He’s actually gone.” “We shouldn’t have been here. We shouldn’t have done this.”. Joanie tried to lift her head. Her body didn’t listen. Her heart felt like it was breaking open inside her chest. Hands slid under her arms. Her body lifted, dragged across broken pavement. The world tilted sideways. Trey was gone. She had watched him vanish. She had caused the collapse. She had killed him. A voice came from somewhere above her, low and shaking. “We need to go. Now.” They said. Cinderjack’s reply followed, tight and strained. “Put her in the van. I’ll get the other one.” The world spun. [hr] Her mind went back again, this time to when she was fourteen. “Leave her alone.” Trey’s voice cut through the alley before Joanie even realised he was there. He stood a few steps behind her, shoulders squared, curls sticking out in uneven directions, his jaw set in a way she had never seen before. The three older teenagers who’d been cornering her turned toward him, their expressions shifting from amusement to irritation. The tallest one, a guy from the grade above her, let go of Joanie’s backpack and stepped forward. “What’s it to you?” He barked. Trey held strong. “She said no.” Joanie’s pulse thudded in her ears. She could feel the rough wall at her back, the cold strap of her backpack still twisted in her hand. “You trying to be a hero?” the boy asked, taking another step. The punch came fast, with a sharp crack of knuckles against skin. Trey’s head snapped to the side, and he staggered, catching himself on one knee. His lip split, a thin line of red forming at the corner. Joanie’s heart skipped a beat as she watched her friend fall. Panic turned to anger as she felt her body pulse slightly. She couldn’t risk a power flare up here though. She had to do something else. Before the boy could laugh, she stepped forward and kicked him square between the legs. He folded instantly, gasping as he dropped to the ground. The other two shouted in surprise, but Trey was already grabbing her sleeve. “Run!” They bolted out of the alley together, the group’s shouts echoing behind them. They didn’t stop until they reached the main road, where the noise of traffic drowned everything else out. “You kicked him in the nuts.” Trey laughed between pants. “That was amazing.” Joanie nodded, still catching her breath. “[color=plum]Thank you[/color]” was all she managed. “No problem.” He smiled. “I’ll always have your back, pal.” And he had done so until the very end. Protecting her had killed him, and Joanie would never forgive herself for that. [i][color=DEE5F7]“Aᵣₑ yₒᵤ ₒₖₐy?”[/color][/i] Trey asked. His voice was different now. [i][color=DEE5F7]“Wₕₐₜ’ₛ wᵣₒₙg?”[/color][/i] Joanie paused in confusion. That’s not what he had said that day. That wasn’t right. It brought her back to the present. [hr] Metal slammed. A door shut. Darkness swallowed her. Joanie lay on her side in the back of the van, cheek pressed against cold flooring. Her ribs throbbed. Her head pounded. Her breath came in shallow, broken pulls. Every inhale felt like it scraped against something sharp inside her chest. Mina was somewhere behind her, crying softly. The sound cut straight through Joanie’s heart. Joanie tried to reach for her. Her fingers twitched. Nothing more. She wanted to tell her she was sorry. She wanted to tell her she didn’t mean for any of this to happen. She wanted to tell her Trey was gone. Her mind went back to the voice she’d heard. It had happened again; awoken her from unconsciousness. It definitely hadn’t been Trey speaking to her. She breathed. She needed help. Badly. Her mind screamed for it, latching onto the calming voice she was hearing for comfort. The van hit a bump. Her head struck metal. Her vision went black again. [hr] This time she was seventeen. Sandra’s Diner felt softer in the evenings, the lights warm against the red vinyl seats and the smell of frying oil drifting lazily through the air. Joanie sat tucked into the booth beside Trey, Mina across from them, all three sharing a plate of fries. Mina flicked one at him. It bounced off his shoulder and landed in his lap. Joanie snorted, grabbed one of her own, and sent it sailing after the first. Trey threw his hands up in exaggerated despair. “Why is it always me being attacked?” Mina grinned. [colour=plum]“We’re just training you to defend yourself better!.”[/colour] Trey reached for a fry, but Joanie was faster. She tossed another at him, hitting his cheek this time. Mina burst out laughing, the sound bright enough to fill the whole booth. Trey tried to look offended, but the smile kept breaking through. “You two are impossible.” Joanie leaned back, warmth settling in her chest as Mina wiped tears of laughter from her eyes and Trey pretended to shield himself behind a menu. For a moment, everything felt simple. Just the three of them, sharing food and sunlight and a kind of happiness Joanie wished she could hold onto forever. She hated that this moment was over now. That there was no longer a possibility to make more memories like this. She longed to throw fries at her friend again. To hear his laugh. To just see him. [hr] Light hit her eyes as she heard the voice again. [i][color=DEE5F7]“Jₒₐₙᵢₑ”[/color][/i] It said. [i]He[/i] said. She pleaded back to him. [i]Please, Trey. Please come back.[/i] She was being carried. Her head rested against someone’s shoulder. The movement jostled her ribs, sending sharp pain through her chest. Her eyes opened softly for brief moments. It took her a moment to realise that the brightly lit warehouse they were moving through was Harborlight’s main floor. The club felt wrong without music, without crowds, without the heat of bodies pressed together. The silence made the place feel hollow, like a stage after the actors had left. The arena floor was still in the process of being repaired she could see, evident by the fresh wooden boards over where she had damage that had yet to be painted. The faint smell of varnish still clung to the air. Joanie’s vision wavered, catching glimpses of the empty stands, the quiet bar, the long stretch of polished floor where she had once stood terrified under the lights. Her mind screamed outwards at the realisation. Not here. Why did they have to bring her back here? Another voice spoke. This one was new. “Put them in together for now.” He said. “Afterwards we can give her over to the client. He might have more use for her than the boss will.” Her mind raced as she took in what he had said. Was he on about Mina? And who the hell was the client? Icelander? There was another lurch as she was moved into a hallway. Every step they took away from the street felt like a step away from Trey. A step away from the boy who had always protected her. A step away from the boy she had failed to protect. Her heart felt like it was tearing itself apart. [hr] It was last night again. She sat with Trey and Mina on the edge of the pier at the Slats, legs dangling over the side, the city lights flickering across the surface of the river like scattered coins. They weren’t doing anything special. Just talking. Just being together. Trey kept making Mina laugh, leaning back on his hands as he told some exaggerated story about a kid at St Dymphna’s who had tried to skateboard down the hallway and crashed into the laundry cart. Even Joanie had found it impressive to witness. Mina snorted so loudly Joanie had to cover her mouth to stop herself laughing too. Trey grinned at both of them, that bright, vibrant smile of his. Joanie remembered how good it felt. How rare it was to feel that kind of warmth. The three of them sat close, shoulders brushing. The waves lapped quietly against the supports below, and for a moment Joanie felt like the whole world had slowed down just for them. Trey nudged her knee with his own and said he’d always have her back, no matter what happened. She told him she’d have his too. It had been a rough few days. Harborlight. Rowan disappearing. The constant fear had been sitting heavy in Joanie’s chest. But there, with her friends beside her, the night felt soft. Safe. Like nothing bad could reach them as long as they stayed together on that quiet stretch of pier. She wished she could have held onto that feeling. She wished it could have lasted. But now that was over. The pier dissolved. Trey’s laugh thinned into nothing. Mina’s snort faded like a light being switched off. The river went dark. The memory slipped from her fingers before she could hold onto it. For a heartbeat, there was emptiness. Then the voice came again. It wasn’t faint this time. It was clear and warm. It reached into her mind like a hand reaching through the fog. [i][color=DEE5F7]“Jₒₐₙᵢₑ…”[/color][/i] Her breath caught. The sound wrapped around her like a blanket she hadn’t realised she’d been freezing without. Her pulse steadied for the first time since the collapse. Her ribs still hurt, her head still throbbed, but her mind leaned instinctively toward the voice. Toward him. [i][color=DEE5F7]“ⱼₒₐₙᵢₑ…ₜₕᵢₛ ᵢₛ ₘₐᵣₜₕ. ᵢ ₙₑₑd yₒᵤ ₜₒ cₐₗₘ yₒᵤᵣ ₘᵢₙd ₐₙd fₒcᵤₛ ₒₙ ₘy ᵥₒᵢcₑ. ₒₖ? Wₕₑᵣₑ ₐᵣₑ yₒᵤ?"[/color][/i] Her chest tightened. She knew that tone. She knew that worry. She knew that softness. [color=plum]“Marth…”[/color] She didn’t speak it aloud. She didn’t need to. The name rose inside her. [i][color=DEE5F7]“Yₑₛ, bᵤₜ ⱼₒₐₙᵢₑ, fₒcᵤₛ fₒᵣ ₘₑ. ₜₑₗₗ ₘₑ wₕₐₜ ᵢₛ ₕₐₚₚₑₙᵢₙg.”[/color][/i] Her mind tried to climb toward him, but everything was heavy. Trey’s death. The collapse. The van. Harborlight. Mina’s crying. The cold. It all pressed down on her until she could barely breathe. How was he doing this? How was she hearing him? Was he a grey? No. No, he couldn’t be. She would’ve known. Wouldn’t she? Her thoughts trembled. [color=plum]“They’re taking me to him, Marth.”[/color] The words formed in her mind, shaky and frightened. She didn’t know if she was doing it right. She didn’t know if he could hear her. But she tried. [i][color=DEE5F7]"ₜₐₖᵢₙg yₒᵤ? Wₕₒ'ₛ ₜₐₖᵢₙg yₒᵤ? ₜₐₖᵢₙg yₒᵤ ₜₒ wₕₒₘ?”[/color][/i] [color=plum]“I’ve messed everything up.”[/color] She cried. [color=plum]“He’s going to hurt Mina.”[/color] [i][color=DEE5F7]”ₙₒ ₙₒ ₙₒ. ⱼᵤₛₜ bᵣₑₐₜₕₑ. ᵢₜ’ₛ gₒₙₙₐ bₑ ₒₖₐy. ⱼᵤₛₜ ₜₑₗₗ ₘₑ wₕₑᵣₑ yₒᵤ ₐᵣₑ ₐₙd ᵢ’ₗₗ…”[/color][/i] Then a surge of coldness overcame her. [hr] When she came to again, she realised that she had been placed into a chair, with cable ties tightened around their wrists. Joanie’s breath hitched as the plastic dug into her skin. Her arms felt heavy. Her chest felt hollow. Her throat burned. The cold reached her next. It was not the sharp sting of winter air. The air felt thin. The space around her felt emptied. Her skin prickled with the sensation of heat leaving her body rather than cold entering it. Every bruise throbbed harder. Every injury felt deeper, as if the temperature were pulling at the pain and widening it. She turned her head slightly and saw that Mina had been placed into a chair next to her. She couldn’t tell whether she was relieved or upset by the sight. At least she was alive. She couldn’t stop seeing Trey’s face. The way he looked at her through the bubble. The way he mouthed her name. The way he vanished. She tried to shake the thoughts away and attempted to take in the room around it. Warm lighting spilled across the floor, catching on dark wood and polished metal. The office felt too clean, too deliberate, too expensive for the building it sat in. Joanie’s vision swam, but she could make out the shape of a large desk, shelves lined with bottles and trophies, and a wide window that looked out over the empty arena. She quickly realised this was the room she’d been looking up at all those nights ago. Her throat tightened at the thought. Yet the cold made everything feel distant, as if she were looking at the room through glass. Her fingers were numb. Her shoulders trembled. Her injuries pulsed with a deeper ache, as if the cold were reaching inside her and taking whatever strength she had left. She thought the two of them were alone for a moment until she heard the groan from the corner behind her. She attempted to swivel her head at the familiar noise but she couldn’t quite turn enough. She had a pretty good idea of who it was though. She knew that groan, although she was used to hearing it in very different circumstances. The air behind her felt thinner, as if someone was drawing the warmth out of it. Footsteps followed. Slow. Heavy. Controlled. With each one, the temperature seemed to drop further. Not in a way she could see, but in a way she could feel. Her breath came out shallow. Her chest tightened. Her heartbeat slowed, as if the cold were reaching for it. Her ribs ached. Her vision flickered at the edges. A figure stepped into view from behind her, his expression unreadable. His presence filled the room like a shadow stretching across the floor. The cold surged with him, rolling over her shoulders and down her spine. She longed to speak to Marth again. To hear his reassuring voice in her head once more. But unfortunately, no one was there to save her. He stopped just behind her chair, in the space just where the turn of her neck could reach him fully. He leaned forward slightly, allowing the light to catch his features. Short curls framed a strong brow. His beard was full and neatly kept. His eyes were a pale, icy blue that seemed to hold their own temperature. Up close, his face looked carved rather than grown, every line sharp, every angle deliberate. The cold around her tightened as if responding to him. “Joanie Porter” the Icelander said. There was a measured cadence to his speech, as if he weighed every syllable before releasing it. “I was wondering when you would awake.” Maybe she would be seeing Trey sooner than she thought.