Archive of Our Own ^beta

In her dreams, Firefly sees the endless swarm. In her mecha suit, she swings her swords around herself, over and over, taking down everything in her path, and yet the sea of red continues, forever and ever. She is not enough to end it, she will never be enough. A stress dream, more than a nightmare.

It’s better than dreaming of the scorned earth of a battlefield, foes and comrades alike torn apart and laid to waste at her feet. After completed missions like this one with Destiny’s Slaves, Firefly is reminded of that last field of battle, where she left her planet to its ruin. It’s destruction. When she met Nanook, and her homeworld crumpled to dust.

Then, like now, bodies pile up around her feet. Through Sam’s visor, the gore is easier to digest. She is safe from it in here. While she feels like nothing more than a weapon (a tool) while inside the SAM suit, she is safer and more in control that way. While she feels more like herself (like a person) outside the suit, it’s the simple truth that there is less she’s physically capable of doing. She needs it as an aid just as much as an extension of her self identity. Even if it’s killing her slowly, it gives her the only source of her identity she has left. The only thing to give her any semblance of purpose for existing. 

Blade is at her side for this mission. He has only been part of the Stellaron Hunters for a short time, but every time the two of them are sent out with a script in hand, it ends up like this. Blade is unfazed as the wind whips his raven hair around, carrying dust and dirt in swirls in the air around them. Blade is rarely phased by anything when he experiences his moments of sanity.

“Does the script say what will happen to this planet?” SAM’s mechanical voice allows Firefly to ask.

Blade doesn’t spare her a glance, his gaze fixed somewhere on the horizon, maybe not looking at anything at all. “I have not read that far ahead, nor do I care to.”

Firefly knows little about Blade before they met a handful of months ago. She knows what the script briefed her on when she and Kafka were sent to retrieve him. He was marastruck, he had been left to his own devices for seven hundred years, where he roamed the universe in a state of total mania. And that he cannot die. 

When they intercepted him, it was like he couldn’t even see her or Kafka. With no technique but utilization of his brute strength, Blade swung his sword around in a blind attempt to strike down anything in his path. No matter how many times SAM cut him down, Blade stood back up. His body mending itself back together hastily, like it mattered only if the body was operational, not if it was put together correctly.

Elio had told Kafka that she was the only being capable of bringing back Blade’s sanity, but by the time Firefly had held down Blade long enough for Kafka to use her mind whisper on him, it was too late. Blade’s mind had been consumed by the Mara for so long, there was virtually nothing left of who he had been before that infliction. When they asked him for his name, he had no answer to give. 

Coming to his own sane mind for the first time in hundreds of years, Blade went slack in SAM’s grasp. Confused and burnt out, Blade gave in to Kafka and the Stellaron hunters immediately, simply because he had nothing else to do, and no idea who he was or what had happened to him. Now, he is similar to Firefly. A being only capable of destruction, alone in the universe, following a script because there is nothing left in this universe for them to do anyway. 

As much as they are alike, they’re just as different. Firefly had never seen Blade wake from a nightmare, as Firefly has. If Blade is haunted by all those who have fallen at his sword, he doesn’t show it in any ways Firefly has picked up on. In the battle they’d just ended, he had broken free of his sanity and flew into a manic rage. He’d plowed through enemies like he was swatting away pesky bugs. The grin on his face and the laughter that bubbled up in his throat were unsettling, they seem like they’re outside of Blade’s control too. It was hard to watch. It took effort to reign the mania back in when it was all over, because Kafka was not here to help this time. Perhaps he is not haunted by anything because he is spared the pain of remembering what he’s done. Or even the full comprehension of what he’s doing or who he’s become. 

Sometimes when Blade is manic, Firefly hears him talking about people she doesn’t know. Names he mutters under his breath. Reports of his past crimes talk about how he kept tracking down the same man over and over, across the known universe, in an attempt to kill him. Firefly found it astonishing that Blade, fully enveloped by Mara, was able to remember an individual person like that. Marastruck aren’t supposed to remember anything. That man Blade chased must’ve been incredibly important to the person Blade used to be for the memory of his face to stick with Blade for hundreds of years. Whatever Blade used to feel for that man was strong enough to withstand hundreds of years of mania eating away at everything Blade used to be able to remember or feel. Even if the Mara had turned that feeling and twisted it into something ugly and violent, it’s still impressive to Firefly. 

So Firefly finds it tragic that it seems Blade doesn’t remember that man now that Kafka has rearranged his mind to be capable of sanity again. Firefly couldn’t imagine forgetting her fallen comrades, and everything they’d been through together. They had been some version of “family” to her, the closest she’d ever been to anyone, even now. She’d loved them. She carries the burden of remembering them now, since no one else alive can. Firefly wonders just how important that man was to Blade before his mind and memories were taken from him. Surely, the pain Blade brought to that man in a state where he was unable to stop himself from doing so must haunt him, in that case? 

SAM turns to him. “Do you care to know what happens to any of the victims of your mania?”

Blade finally spares him a glance. “That’s one way to drive myself to insanity.” He says, voice level. He turns to walk back to where the script informs them to meet Kafka. “Or… prononguate it.”

SAM ducks his head and follows. Firefly thinks he must have a point. Maybe if she can stop reliving her last battle against the swarm and wondering what meaning her existence holds now, she would be less burdened by the horrors she’s committed. By the horrors she will continue to commit, because there is nothing left for her in this universe to do but continue on the path of destruction, wherever that might lead. 

…

Firefly doesn't dream— not really. Sometimes when she rests her eyes (which isn’t often since she doesn’t need as much sleep as her partners do) she sees memories, recreations of stressful or distressing events. It makes sleeping not feel worth it.

She doesn’t get blissful sleep or dreams like other people do. Certainly not sweet nonsensical dreams like Stelle has. Just before this mission, Stelle stopped SAM right before departure to warn her against opening her mouth while flying, saying that in her dreams the previous night, Firefly choked on a leaf while flying and fell to the ground and exploded. Firefly had found it funny, but promised to be careful since Stelle seemed sincerely concerned. It was kind of cute. 

Stelle had been waiting when she and Blade returned. Blade had entered first, and Stelle had stayed weary. Privately, Stelle had confessed to Firefly that Blade scared her. Since she didn’t know him too well yet, and he wasn’t very friendly. Then, SAM entered and Stelle brightened.

“Firefly!” She ran up to the iron knight and hugged him tight at the waist. “You’re back!”

Stelle’s tactile way of showing affection was something Firefly had to get used to after getting to know her. Mostly, she’s glad Stelle shows affection. While Firefly doesn’t doubt Kafka cares, she’s very closed off, and Blade… they don’t know him very well yet. Firefly had been so close with her fellow soldiers in Glamoth’s army that when she’d joined the Stellaron hunters, it was odd to be lacking that close companionship. The kind where everyone has experienced the same things, had the same destiny and motivations, so you can relate to everyone. Firefly gives the Stellaron hunters the same loyalty she gave the army, but their closeness isn’t quite the same. Not yet, anyway. 

But Stelle was different. Stelle is different in a lot of ways.

“Stelle.” Comes SAM’s mechanized voice. “Back up. I can’t transform back if you’re clinging to me.”

“Oh, right.” Stelle replies sheepishly, letting go of him and stepping away.

Firefly deactivated her armor and in a blaze of heat, returned to her normal self. The cold of the airship hit her skin, and she shivered. She always feels so vulnerable without SAM, so naked. She spent her whole life forbidden from being without it. It’ll take a lot of getting used to.

“I’m sorry, I was going to get you that bubble drink, but I didn’t find any stores left.” Firefly told her. 

Stelle pouted. “Aw, man.”

That was the other thing Stelle mentioned before Firefly left with Blade for this mission. She’d looked up what the planet was known for and asked Firefly to bring back some drink for her. It was too bad Firefly wasn’t able to find it. She’d wanted to, Stelle was her friend. And not in the way the others were. 

Kafka was nice to her, and super cool too, but she kept her distance. Firefly was appreciative that Kafka looked after her, but she didn’t know her very well. And Blade… Firefly didn’t know Blade at all yet. He spent most of his days in a dissociative haze, following orders and asking for Kafka’s help with headaches and other pain, like he wasn’t adjusting to his own sanity. 

But Stelle… Stelle was a friend. The only friend Firefly’s made outside of Glamoth’s Iron Cavalry. When Kafka found Firefly floating through space and brought her back with her, Stelle was right there, sticking to her side. Making herself known, asking questions, sharing the things she’s learned. Stelle says it’s been just her and Kafka for so long and isn’t it so cool to hang with someone your own age?

Even with the level of danger and uncertainty the Stellaron hunters live in constantly, Stelle is always herself. Upbeat and neurotic and silly, always there to lend a hand or an ear. Though, maybe she’s upbeat because her life is so unstable. Kafka is nice and cares about Stelle greatly, but she’s not very fun. Firefly surmises Stelle’s used to making her own fun, probably ever since she was a kid.

She’s not like Firefly’s friends from before. She’s not like anyone Firefly’s ever known, really. Kafka is like a kind commanding general, Blade is like a comrade who’s seen too much. But Stelle is her own beast. Firefly likes that about her.

“You have to take me next time you get a script!” Stelle insists. “You keep killing everyone before I can buy their stuff!”

Firefly winces. Stelle never minces her words. “I’m… sorry. Maybe Kafka will let you go with us next time.”

Stelle’s face falls. She looks away, pouting. “Yeah, maybe.”

Blade falls asleep as soon as he finds his… cocoon of blankets and pillows on the ground (not enough mattresses). He sleeps a lot, almost always when he’s not doing something mission related or, like, eating. Firefly has the feeling that he doesn’t particularly like the fact that he’s alive, currently, and would like to remedy that, but has no clue how, so is just existing as little as possible ‘till then.

Firefly lays on her mattress silently and listens to the muffled sound of Kafka’s Stelle lessons from another part of the ship. She wonders what Blade is dreaming of. She wonders what Stelle will dream of. 

…

As expected, the IPC chase after them once they realize the Stellaron Hunters stole their ship. They have to ditch it and hide out on a planet nearby. The whole planet is a bustling city, so there’s a lot of places to hide. Unfortunately, that means there’s also a lot of exciting things to do. Which would be a plus if it weren’t for—

“Kafka! Come on, they have a deal! Buy two, get a giant dirtworm free!”

“Kafka, that store is glowing. We have to go inside.”

“But Kafka! The money will come back to me eventually if I can get more people to buy into the system!”

“Ugh, Kafka! You never let me do anything!”

Kafka made use of the child lesh at the back of Stelle’s jacket to make sure she didn’t run off, even if Stelle managed it a few times regardless.

Firefly watched Kafka lose patience with her ward as the hours passed them by. Stelle didn’t like making Kafka angry with her, but she would have to notice Kafka was angry with her first, which would be hard. Stelle got very absorbed into things when she deemed them important, and sightseeing was apparently very important.  

But because Kafka wasn’t letting her wander off, none of them were having a good time. Firefly and Blade seemed to both be equally overwhelmed. Firefly hasn’t been to many populated places that weren’t rallies or front lines. So many people moving around, so many bright signs and lights, Firefly feels her heart beat at a pace that reminds her of the battlefield, and feels herself stuffed up with noise, just on the edge of too much. Blade seems overwhelmed in the way of having no clue what’s going on, as usual. He followed blankly, sword clutched in one hand. (They needed to find some kind of scabbard for that thing. Blade was always carrying it around in a death grip like it was the only semblance of his humanity he had left.)

The four of them finally found a place to lay low for the night after asking the right people and offering the right prices. It was a shabby place, under a restaurant they were instructed not to step foot into. Well, Kafka got them the place. Firefly wondered if Kafka ever got sick of being everyone’s mother when she wasn’t even that much older than them. Well, she wasn’t that much older than Blade, right? Hmm. Firefly isn’t actually sure of anyone’s age. 

Kafka didn’t raise her voice or snap at Stelle— well, maybe once, before ushering them inside the safe house and bringing them food from the restaurant for dinner. It was good. 

For all her earlier excitement, Stelle falls asleep right away, exhausted by the day’s events. Blade went soon after, but Firefly wasn’t quite ready yet. After a while of listening to everyone’s rhythmic breathing, Firefly got restless and wondered whether or not it was a good idea to go outside for a moment, since it might be hard to get back in.

But, unable to find sleep, Firefly risked it anyway.

Kafka was outside smoking, hiding in the shadows of an alleyway. At first, she didn’t notice Firefly’s approach. Then, she beckoned her closer. 

They chatted for a while, but Firefly could tell Kafka’s mind was elsewhere.

Eventually— a sigh. “I don’t know what I’m going to do about that kid.” She said. “I’ve been trying my best— aeons know I’ve been trying. But she’s just… she doesn’t absorb anything I teach her. And things that should just click with anyone else, she just… I don’t know what else she needs. She’s supposed to save the universe. Maybe Elio was wrong, recruiting me. I can’t get her there.”

Kafka offers her a smoke.

Firefly reminds her that she’s already dying, what would be the point?

…

“Firefly. Hey. Are you up?”

Firefly wasn’t up, actually, but she is now.

Rubbing her eyes, Firefly sat up in the sleeping bag she’d been given for now. Stelle was leaning over her, and they bonked foreheads when Firefly rose too fast.

“What?” Firefly mumbled. “Stelle?”

Stelle quickly shushed her, waving her hands down to let her know to be quiet.

Immediately, Firefly came into alertness. She quickly looked around her— Kafka and Blade were still asleep. But just because she couldn’t see the danger, didn’t mean it wasn’t there.

She leaned in close to Stelle and spoke hushed; “What is it? What’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing.” Stelle said.

Confused, Firefly leaned back. “Then… then what’re you doing up?”

Stelle’s lips split into a wide smile. “It’s the middle of the day.”

Well. Firefly didn’t know what was exciting about that. They’d stayed up all night navigating the city, so they slept through the day. Nothing special about that. “Okay.” She replied after a brief hesitation. 

Stelle took out her phone, something she insisted she needed to charge before going to bed earlier. “I looked it up. This planet has an active night life, but even though the shops and restaurants are all open during the day, hardly anyone is out and about. See?”

She tries to shove her phone in Firefly’s face, but Firefly is quick to deflect it. “Okay.” She says again. It’s best to not ask questions until Stelle is done explaining herself. That's something Firefly’s learned about her this past year, Stelle has a very haphazard, roundabout way of explaining her thought process. Probably because her thought process is all over the place. 

“Kafka is still asleep,” Stelle continued, her dull gray-brown eyes sparking with glee, “so if we leave now, we can go into the city inconspicuously, and if we get back before she wakes up, no one will ever know!”

Firefly squints at her, trying to wrap her head around the concept Stelle just spat at her. “You want to… sneak out into the city?”

Stelle nods her head so fast she looks like a bobble head. “Yeah! Genius, right?”

“Kafka doesn’t want you wandering off,” Firefly warned her, “you know that.”

“Kafka never wants me to do anything.” Stelle retorted, sounding genuinely bitter for a moment. A little more serious, she mumbles; “I know it’s ‘cause she doesn’t want me on wanted posters, but… I feel like I’ve never done anything for myself before. It’s all just preparing for the apocalypse and learning how to kill a god. I wanna actually experience things on my own, before I run out of time. I wanna do things. I wanna see and touch and feel. I want to live. Don’t you?”

Ah, that’s right. She and Stelle are similar in… in a lot of ways. They have a time limit hanging over their heads. Whether Stelle gets her memories erased or Firefly’s entropy loss syndrome takes her first, they’re doomed to reach the end at some point.

Firefly is reminded of what Kafka said to her last night, about not knowing what Stelle needs. Does Stelle know what she needs? She’s not a little kid anymore like she was when she and Kafka met. The more Kafka restricted her, the more Stelle acted out. Firefly figures that if Stelle doesn't get enrichment soon, she’s gonna act out in a bad way. And best to do it when Firefly can keep an eye on her for Kafka, right?

And maybe this is something Firefly would like to do too. Within Glamoth’s army, she hadn’t had time to really think or want anything for herself aside from what she was built for. But now, after almost a year of traveling alongside Destiny’s Slaves, Firefly has seen so many people and so many lifestyles. She finds herself imagining what it might be like to be any one of these people. To be normal, and live an ordinary life. It feels so outlandish to Firefly, that she might wake up and her greatest concern might be what she’s having for dinner or if she can make the commute to work on time. 

But even so, a day hanging out with her friend and shopping in a big city… it sounds like what Firefly assumes dreams are. 

“C’mon! We gotta make memories before I forget ‘em all, right?” Stelle added, throwing in her big pleading puppy-dog eyes for extra measure. “I’m gonna sneak out either way, but I wanna have fun with you.”

Firefly laughed. It shouldn’t be funny, but Stelle pokes fun at her own Fate so much it’s lost its impact. And… maybe… it was cute that Stelle wanted Firefly to be there so badly. 

“Alright, fine.”

Stelle’s face lit up, and she pulled Firefly into a tight excited hug. “Yay! We’ll be stealthy, like ninjas. I promise.” 

…

“Stealthy like ninjas” means walking out the front door, evidently. 

The two of them leave the basement and enter the streets through the front of the restaurant. It’s midday, and the streets are mostly empty. But… so are most of the shops. Seems like most businesses are catered towards this planet’s bustling night life. Firefly wondered if the species of people that lived here were mainly nocturnal. The universe was vast, and people were so different all over. Who could say?

Stelle was giddy with excitement the second they hit the streets, the lack of available shops not deterring her whatsoever. She found a fairly average bench they passed while walking and paused to lay down on it, stretching her arms up and out.

“Look!” She announced gleefully. “I fit perfectly!”

It was true. Stelle’s head was touching the armrest of one side of the bench while her feet just barely touched the other. She looked ecstatic about this fact.

Stelle’s been like this for as long as Firefly’s known her. She likes containers, bins, anything she can shove her body into. She gets frustrated when she doesn’t fit, and amazed when she does. Stelle likes it when things fit together. When she opens a square package and the item inside is also a cube. A phone case snapping over a phone. A bookmark that’s the exact size of the book’s pages. But she likes it particularly when it comes to her own body. When a disc is the exact size of her hand, when she can sit perfectly in the space beneath the TV. The only problem from there is getting her out from under the TV.

But they have all day to enjoy themselves, and this outing is mainly for Stelle’s amusement. And if this is what she finds amusing, then Firefly is all too happy to applaud this discovery and congratulate her on it. “It’s like it was made for you!”

Besides, it’s… kinda cute, if not something Firefly doesn’t understand at all. The fact that Stelle finds enjoyment in such things that most would overlook… it really brings Firefly down to earth, makes her think about all the ordinary things she has the pleasure to do now that she’s able to. 

Stelle beams in pride. It’s cute.

Firefly doesn’t need to pry her away from the bench as she feared. Stelle hopped up a few moments later, satisfied, whispered a few words of gratitude to the bench, and they move on. 

Stelle runs inside the first open establishment they run into. It’s a bakery, a really cute one. The inside is all pink. The wall paper, the tables and chairs too. The counters and display cases were white. The man behind the counter seemed surprised to see them. He also looked tired, but not unwelcoming.

The little bell above the door dinged when they entered, and he waved to them. “Welcome!” He greeted. “Everything is freshly made, just came out of the oven. Let me know if I can heat anything up for you.”

“Hi!” Stelle replies, bounding up to the counter. She’s immediately distracted by the pastries on display.

Firefly walks up to the display cases too, politely nodding in greeting to the man behind the counter. The pastries look delicious. They’re big. There’s a croissant the size of her head. And the donuts… the glaze were all different colors, and some of them had cool toppings!

Firefly looked to her companion. Stelle’s awe has morphed into confliction. “Oh man…” she murmured. “How am I ever gonna choose? Can’t I just get everything?”

Firefly balked at her. “Everything?” She replied, even though Stelle wasn’t asking her specifically. “There’s no way you’re going to be able to finish all that.”

Stelle looks at her. Oh no, she just took that as a challenge. “You underestimate me.” Says Stelle. She pats her own chest. “I’m a growing host body, you know. I need my nutrients.”

“These are desserts.”

Stelle looked back to the display cases, then back so Firefly. “I resend nothing.” She faces the display cases again. “It’s not my fault everything looks so tasty. I can’t decide! I want to try everything I can.”

Firefly sighs. Stelle is so impossible to say no to, how does Kafka manage it so often? Stelle’s innate desire to touch and feel and understand can only be sated by doing so. And anyway, isn’t that why Stelle wanted to explore this city in the first place?

“It’s your money.” Firefly relents. “I don’t think I’m going to get anything. Maybe I’ll try a few bites of yours.” She trips on her words, her meaning. “Um! If that’s okay.” Dang, she didn’t mean it like that, she didn’t want to impose.

Stelle beams. “We can try everything together!” She takes a handful of credits out of her bag and slams them on the counter. 

With discussion from the employee, who was hiding his shock well, Stelle purchased one of every single baked item. She didn’t have the patience to ask them to heat anything up, the two of them brought everything to a table inside.

Firefly was glad to be sitting down. Truthfully, her feet had started to hurt from all the walking. All the walking from yesterday had already left her ankles, knees and wrists sore. Firefly tries not to base her actions on her chronic pain, but as she let her feet dangle off the end of her seat, she had the feeling she’ll probably end up ruining the vibe of the outing by asking for breaks when she got too tired, even though she knows she’ll end up giving into the pain and asking for rests, regardless of how little she wants to. Firefly ends up doing that so often, she knows it must be annoying. It’s annoying herself if no one else. She hates complaining, because the others will just suggest she use SAM. And while yes, SAM is an aid that helps her keep moving while giving her body a rest, Firefly doesn’t like waking around as SAM. She likes being Firefly. Especially now that she’s hanging out with Stelle. She wants her friend to know her as she is, not as SAM. 

Firefly had underestimated Stelle. They managed to eat all of the baked goods. Firefly tried half of one of those really cool, decorated donuts, an Eclair, and a few different kinds of custards. Stelle ate the rest seemingly when Firefly wasn’t paying attention. She didn’t seem to care that the store clerk was eyeing them with poorly hidden amusement. She looked overjoyed, tasting all these new flavors for the first time. Firefly felt a strange sense of warmth, seeing how Stelle soaked up new experiences like a happy sponge. 

Firefly found herself savoring her custards as she ate. For a long time, food had only been a means of survival. Being able to just enjoy sweets like this… it was new. It was nice. Sitting across from Stelle like this, Firefly could almost imagine they were two girls hanging out, not two Stellaron hunters with blood on their hands hiding out from the law for stealing a cruiser. It was a nice picture…

“Have you ever seen so many toppings on a donut?” Stelle awed, admiring her dessert. “I’ve never eaten anything like it.”

“It is super cool.” Firefly agreed. “Sweets are a new experience for me.” 

“Really?” Stelle gasped, mouth still full. She put a hand over it as she swallowed. “I can’t imagine life without dessert.”

It made Firefly giggle. “I know.” She said. “When I was in the Iron Cavalry, we had sustenance, but taste didn’t matter. Just if you were meeting nutrient requirements.” Talking about this stuff used to be hard. For a while, Firefly couldn’t think about her life in Glamoth’s empire or her lost friends without feeling the loss like a physical pit of dread in her stomach. Feeling the emotion swell and rise in her throat, it was hard to resist the urge to swallow it back down to avoid the discomfort. But as they’ve gotten to know one another, Firefly finds herself… wanting to open up to Stelle, even when it is hard. Stelle is startlingly easy to talk to. She doesn’t judge, doesn’t push you to talk, there’s ever any pressure. Just open arms and easy banter. So, these days, Firefly is surprised whenever she finds the urge to sink into Stelle’s familiar warmth, knowing it's safe to do so. “We had scheduled mealtimes, and ate the same thing every day.”

Stelle blanched. “That sounds awful.” She said. “I think you’ve told me about that before.”

“I’m sure I have.” Firefly agreed. “But… anyway, it’s nice to have new experiences.” Firefly bit her lip for a moment, thinking in the statement. “The others, especially Kafka, they seem so experienced.”

Stelle nods a little bitterly. “Yeah. Feels like she knows everything sometimes. Kinda makes me feel like I know nothing. But she usually always answers my questions anyway, even when she knows it’s a dumb question.”

“Yeah.” Firefly agrees. “So it’s cool that we’re experiencing new things together, right?”

Stelle smiled. There was donut glaze around the corner of her lips. Firefly had tasted one of those donuts. Stelle’s lips must be just as sweet tasting. “It’s nice,” she agreed. “I like that we’re the same.”

They weren’t exactly the same, but Firefly felt her face warm at the sentiment all the same, strangely flustered that this was how Stelle saw her. They were both created instead of born, and then they were trained hard for a specific purpose. The only difference is that Stelle has yet to fulfill her purpose as the host for a Stellaron, while Firefly's purpose has been completed, and now she has to live in the aftermath, wondering what she’s meant to do now. But they’re both discovering how to live, and they’re doing it together. Stelle feels the kinship between them too. It’s nice. Even though Firefly’s comrades in the cavalry are gone, she still belongs with someone. Or… it feels that way. Or maybe that’s too presumptuous? But it’s still a nice thought… that Stelle feels that way too. Firefly doesn’t like the idea of being alone.

As they kept eating, Firefly subtly stretched her arms over her head, her shoulders and legs, trying to loosen her muscles. It helps with the pain sometimes, but not always. Not usually, actually. But she can try. 

“Have a fun outing, you two.” The clerk said as the two of them stood up, ready to leave. “And if you’re planning on seeing the sights, make sure to stop by the carnival.”

Stelle perked up. Her empty gray eyes shone with interest. Firefly felt in her bones they were going to make their way over to whatever was just mentioned. “Carnival?” 

“It’s what the city is famous for,” said the clerk, “aside from the shopping district. It’s by the ports. There’s all kinds of games and rides. You two seem like you’ll have fun there.”

“Games and rides?!” Stelle awed brightly. She turned to Firefly, who already knew exactly what she was going to say. “Firefly, we gotta go!”

Firefly knew there wasn’t any talking her out of it, not even if she was planning on it. “Well, why don’t we start heading to the docks as we look around the shops?”

“So smart!” Stelle gaped, making Firefly want to look away. “Let’s go!”

…

After leaving, they headed in the direction of the pier. Most of the shops were still closed, and they only passed a few people. Stelle’s eyes stayed in every window of the stores they passed, lamenting whenever she saw something particularly exciting from a store that wasn’t open. She almost cried when the comic book shop they passed was closed.

Firefly noted this, and found herself wanting for some of the things they passed as well. But maybe not quite in the same way. As they passed establishments like cafes, pizzerias, arcades, Firefly thought about what a good time she and Stelle might’ve had if they’d stopped there. What Firefly's coffee order might be, how much Stelle would burn the roof of her mouth on pizza, how competitive she’d get with the games in the arcade. Stelle liked video games. She’s tried to get Firefly into them before, but it never holds her attention. But if Firefly and Stelle were to play them together… she might understand the appeal. 

The yearning to experience the ordinary, new experiences, wasn’t new to Firefly. They cropped up whenever she visited new planets alongside the Stellaron hunters. It’s not something she’d considered before, because she hadn’t known there was anything to consider. But creating memories with Stelle… that was new. It made her flustered when she acknowledged the urge, and she quickly pushed it to the back of her mind. Hiding is far easier than honesty, and Firefly isn’t sure what she’d do with this truth if she were to air it. 

Stelle stopped once more before they made it to the pier. There was a boutique that was still open, and Stelle rushed inside, Firefly on her heels. It was cool inside, the AC was a loud backdrop. The store was bigger on the inside than Firefly anticipated, racks of clothes going back farther than she could see. There weren’t any shop keeps, or anyone working that Firefly could see.

“Are we sure this place is open?” Firefly asked.

“The lights are on.” Stelle countered. “The door is open.”

“Well, yeah…” Firefly drawled, uncertain.

Stelle clapped her shoulder. “Then it’s fine! Let’s look around.”

Stelle had the worst habit of getting into places she didn’t belong, and Firefly feared this might be one of those times. She lost Stelle among the racks almost immediately. 

The boutique was pretty strange layout-wise. There wasn’t any cohesiveness to where the clothes were put on display. So all in all, it was fairly chaotic. 

Firefly walked around calling for her friend before finding her again a minute or so later, wearing a very different outfit. Well, it’d be more accurate to say Stelle found Firefly. Stelle emerged from the racks unceremoniously. She must’ve picked a few things from the displays and threw them on over her current outfit. A long flow-y white skirt with strawberry patterns at the hem, an oversized orange sweater with a llama on it and what must certainly be a llama pun stitched on in another language, a snapback, and big pink heart sunglasses. Firefly startled and flinched back when Stelle jumped right in front of her, arms open and smile wide.

Then Firefly laughed.

She laughed until her sides hurt. Oh aeons, she couldn’t help it. Stelle with that big goofy grin, emerging from the coatrack like melting from the shadows. Where did she find any of these things? Firefly left her alone for, like, a minute tops!

“Sorry!” Firefly managed between gasps. “I...!”

Stelle giggled too. 

Then the two of them couldn’t pull it back together. Firefly had never felt so light, like destiny and the weight of the past were miles behind her.

“Is that—“ Stelle laughed, “Is that a no on the hat?”

Firefly took a deep breath, her smile stretched so hard it hurt. “It’s a no on the— on the skirt, at least.”

Stelle giggled, slipping her thumbs beneath the waistband and pulling it down. “I prefer pants anyway.”

She stepped out of it, revealing the baggy gray pants she’d been wearing before. Then she took off her sunglasses and stepped up to Firefly, gently putting them on her face.

“Cute.” Stelle decided.

It made Firefly flush. She played it off though, making a pose for Stelle to giggle at. 

“Oh, and I saw a bunch of cool dresses. Like the one you got in Harulia.” Stelle mentioned. “Come see! You should try some on.”

Oh.

Firefly had nearly forgotten about that dress she’d gotten. It was a few weeks before they were sent after Blade. Kafka had taken them to a market for reminiscence. It turned into a stakeout where the three of them had to look like they were shopping in order to tail a target who was doing the same. While pretending to shop, Kafka ended up buying a few shades of lipstick and a pair of boots, and Firefly's eye caught on a pretty blue dress. It fell at her knees, the fabric was silky soft, and there was a butterfly pattern at the hem. Firefly, until then, had only been given clothes by Kafka and Stelle. Spares, things the two of them weren’t using. Firefly hadn’t bought anything for herself. Buying the dress would be impractical, but Kafka convinced her to buy it anyway. Firefly hasn’t had a chance to wear it yet, but…

“You remember that?” Firefly wondered aloud.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Stelle murmured, suddenly not able to meet Firefly’s eye. “I remember it made you really happy, even though you don’t wear it. You should, though. I think it’d look nice. Anyway, I just think you should buy more stuff that makes you happy like that.”

Firefly felt a rush wash over her. Stelle remembers what Firefly likes. She saw something in a store and thought of her without prompting. Even the idea that Firefly, within the short year of knowing her, has carved out a space for herself in Stelle’s mind is… is a warm, comforting thought. She certainly feels warm all over, thinking about it. 

“Maybe I… maybe I should,” Firefly said, forcing it past her tongue. She shook her hands out, jittery, and forced another bury of bravery, “but only if you watch me try them on, first.”

Stelle rocked on her heels. She’d never been very good at staying put. “Okay.” She said. “Uh— c’mon, I'll show you where I saw them.”

It wasn’t until Firefly sat down in the changing room to pull off her shoes did she realize her feet had started to hurt again. She rolled her shoulders back, taking the time to feel the stiffness and aching in her back. Firefly’s pain was chronic. She’s so used to it, she doesn’t really notice when it gets bad. Not unless she takes the time to. She’s been holding herself upright for too long. Normally, she’d change into SAM to avoid using her muscles to keep herself upright, or she’d lay down for a while before returning to the task at hand. But… the pain wasn’t that bad. She could keep going. 

Firefly took a deep breath, and stood back up, her feet, ankles, and back screaming at her. Then she took off what she was wearing and put one of the dresses on. The material was nice and smooth, and felt breezy and soft in her skin. Then, she looked in the mirror and froze.

That’s what she looks like? The dress wasn’t anything special, just a thigh length mint green summer dress. She twisted her hips side to side to see the dress twirl and fan out. Wearing this, Firefly looked pretty. She looked like a version of herself she’d never been before. Someone sweet and uncomplicated, cute and unassuming. She felt like she couldn’t look away. 

She could easily picture this girl going shopping with her friends or sneaking out of the house with a cute girl. What would it have been like if Stelle met that version of Firefly, instead of meeting her as the pilot of SAM? When Firefly met Stelle, she was barely a person. She didn’t know how to talk to Stelle, she didn’t know how to do much of anything except follow orders. How would their relationship be different if Stelle had run into this girl in the street one day? What would she think? 

Even with the veins that popped out on her skin, moving blue and purple poison through her vitals, Firefly felt mesmerized. This was sort of how she felt when she’d bought that other dress. Only then, Firefly hadn’t had time to try it on, she’d just bought it and moved on. Every time she saw it among her things, she felt a pit of anxiety and something else, something she was quick to push away. Seeing it on herself was something different. This was Firefly. Not SAM, not AR-26710. This girl in the mirror could’ve been anyone. She liked that.

She felt the urge to hide this from everyone else, to keep this vision to herself and protect it. And at the same time, she wished she could erase the image of herself in everyone’s mind and replace them with this instead. 

She swallowed past her nerves and exited the changing room.

Stelle was sitting on the floor fiddling around with the loose threads of her llama sweater, but she perked up when she saw Firefly. “Woooah.” She awed, jumping to her feet. “Firefly, you look so pretty!”

Firefly couldn’t look at her directly, she felt weirdly dizzy, maybe overwhelmed. This was a bigger deal than it should be. “Oh, really?”

“For sure!” Stelle confirmed. “It looks great on you, you should totally get it.”

Firefly swallowed. “Maybe I should try on the others first.”

“Oh! Right, yeah, forgot about that.” Stelle replied. “Right. ‘Kay! I’ll wait here.”

Firefly tried on one dress after the other, coming outside of the changing rooms to model them for Stelle. As she came out each time to awe and praise, Firefly started to feel less self conscious about the whole thing. Firefly felt pretty. She’d been strong, imposing, powerful, and valuable before, but never pretty. While she knew she would never shed her talents and skill as the pilot of an Iron Knight, she liked the idea of being able to be a regular cute girl as well. She isn’t ashamed of SAM. It’s part of her, she doesn’t know who she is without him. But… she can’t deny the desire to have an identity beyond the Iron Knights, beyond the Glamoth’s Empire. Beyond SAM.

“I think I like this one best,” Firefly admitted, twirling around to show off the last dress they’d collected.

“I do too!” Stelle agreed. “The ruffles at the bottom are cute.”

Firefly moved her hips to sway the ruffles in lieu of an answer. “What about you?” She asked. “We’re out here for you in the first place.”

“Huh?” Stelle hummed in confusion. “Oh, uh, I’m kinda digging this sweater. I think I know what language this pun is in.”

Surprised, Firefly blinked up at her. “You do?”

“Mhm.” She answered. Stelle pulled the sweater away from her body to point at the sewn on letters. “I recognize some of the letters, it looks Halovian. I think. I’m pretty sure. And I think I can put together what it says. This one here says ‘llama’. It has to, it’s the one right around the llama. The first word is ‘have’ and then ‘a’, and the word at the end I think is ‘time’, but I’m not sure.”

“Have a llama time?” Firefly translated. “That’s… not reality a pun.”

“It is in Halovian.” Stelle corrected. “Llama in Halovian is ‘Rossva’, which sounds like ‘Fussfa’, the Halovian word for fantastic or, like, really super cool, basically. So it’s ‘have a really super cool time’, but it’s a llama!”

Firefly giggled. “Okay, I get it. Did Kafka teach you Halovian?”

Stelle frowned. “She’s been trying. It’s just such a drag. She’s been teaching me the words one by one, and then making me write them out until I memorize it. It’s taking forever.”

“But you learned it.” Firefly tried to add helpfully.

“I guess.” Stelle pouted. “But like— usually, it takes weeks to learn one word when Kafka’s teaching me. I used context clues to guess the word for llama just now, and I already have it down because it wasn’t spoonfed to me, I took it apart on my own and figured it out. I just—“ she sighs. “Kafka expects me to just get it after explaining things to me one time. But I just don’t. How can anyone understand anything without experiencing it? I get why she’s trying so hard to pin me in place, I have this mega important destiny thing in the future, and it’s her job to make sure I don’t die before then. But I wanna go places, I wanna feel the earth in my own hands, not read a textbook about geology.”

Firefly couldn’t help but feel endeared by the passion and desire in Stelle’s voice. She’s seen Stelle frustrated by Kafka’s refusal to let Stelle out, despite her obvious admiration for her teacher. Even just yesterday, when Kafka refused to let Stelle explore this planet. Firefly supposed its not either of their faults Stelle was destined for more than this. Even if that destiny wasn’t close yet, it nipped at her, calling her. The universe knows where Stelle belongs. “I think you’re gonna like being a trailblazer.” Firefly comments.

Stelle seems saddened. “Yeah. Maybe.”

It makes Firefly think. Sometimes Stelle jokes about it, sometimes she avoids the subject altogether. Firefly doesn’t know how Stelle really feels about Elio’s script for her. 

“Hey, how do we pay?” Firefly asked instead.

“Oh, I dunno.” Stelle shrugged. “We should probably scurry about until we find a register somewhere.”

And so, Firefly follows Stelle around the massive complex (seriously, why so big?), weaving through coak racks and stacks of jeans, until they found what looked to be a checkout line, but no one was on it. No one was behind the counter either. Confused, Stelle placed a handful of credits on the counter and they quickly left the building.

Firefly walked back out on the street with her dress still on, carrying her combat clothes over one of her shoulders. Her back pain was starting to get annoying, but she could keep going.

Stelle headed straight for the docks this time, letting nothing else distract her. They passed the next block, and Firefly was able to see past enough buildings to make out where they were headed. There was a skyline of roller coasters and Ferris wheels over the ocean. Stelle sped up as they approached. 

Beyond the gate, there were carnival booths and games, food trucks and carts, everything Firefly could envision Stelle enjoying. They hurried up to the entrance, but a tired looking man standing in a little booth stopped them.

“Welcome to the Mighty Roaring Carnival.” He greeted. “Credits are of no value here. But you can trade them in for tickets.”

“Oh, I get it.” Stelle replied.

Firefly fished in her combat gear’s pocket for her wallet. “We’ll each get, like, a roll of tickets then, I guess.”

With the credits exchanged, Stelle and Firefly entered the carnival. 

It was pretty dead all things considered. In the distance, Firefly could spot a few people meandering around, but even the music played from the loud speakers seemed quiet. Empty popcorn containers and soda cans littered the ground, and most of the attractions didn’t have workers attending them. Firefly could almost imagine how it might’ve looked at it’s intended visiting hour; night.

But that didn’t detour Stelle. She was only seeing adventures to be had. Two steps in, and she rushed over to the least crushed popcorn tub and grabbed it, holding it upright and looking inside. “Firefly, look! There’s still food inside!”

Reacting quickly, Firefly slapped it from her hands. “Um, why don’t we buy our own popcorn instead?”

Stelle pouted, but she didn’t stay sad for long. A split second later, she was rushing to find something open to the public. Or, knowing her, anything she could break her way into. Firefly only struggled to keep up.

Stelle weaved around booths with walls of prizes, soaking up everything. She was walking around seemingly at random, but this outing was all meant for Stelle to get out there, so Firefly didn’t mind following her around. A few times, Firefly almost lost her. She had such long legs, and kept taking random turns behind booths or food trucks. She managed to talk Stelle out of “joining” the plushies on a close booth’s prize wall, and climbing on top of a telephone booth to “survey the area.”

“Hey, this one’s open!” Firefly suggested, grabbing onto the back of Stelle’s sweater and pointing to one of the game booths.

Stelle jogged up to it, and Firefly was glad to rest her legs for a second and stop walking. She felt her own heartbeat there for a minute, when she had to jog after Stelle to stop her from jumping that prize wall. She’s getting a little worn out. 

“What a surprise,” said the lady manning the booth. She was wearing the same striped vest the tired man at the entrance was, “carnival goers during the day time. Good strategy— no lines! It’s three tickets to play.”

“What a bargain.” Stelle murmured to herself before forking over the tickets. Firefly did the same.

“Here’s how you play,” the lady instructed. “Stand in front of these guns right here. That’s right, pick one. Point it at the target in front of you and press the trigger, it’ll shoot water. Try to hit the target as often as you can. Whoever scores the most, wins.”

“Oh boy, a gun!” Stelle replied giddily, jumping up onto one of the booth seats and grabbing the plastic toy.

Firefly giggled and sat next to her. She sighed as her feet left the ground. She needed a break. The moment the lady said go, Firefly clicked on the trigger, hitting the target without even trying. Games like these feel extraordinarily boring to Firefly. Games are fun because they challenge you, but compared to SAM, most things feel too easy. Firefly has gunned thousands of beings down, and a gun isn’t even her main weapon. This felt childish in comparison. But that’s probably why Stelle was attracted to it.

“Aw, man!” Stelle exclaimed. “How are you so good at this?”

Firefly shook her head. “Who knows.”

Stelle frowned, pouting, staring at her. “Okay. One more round.”

Firefly agreed with a sharp nod, and they both handed off their ticket to the lady. Stelle furrowed her brow, as though she were suddenly taking this very seriously. Something Firefly had discovered about Stelle through the course of their friendship was that Stelle could get weirdly competitive about things, seemingly at random and to drastic degrees. Firefly loosened her grip on her gun. Maybe she should intentionally lose this round? It’s not like she really cared. This game wasn’t very fun anyway.

Then the game started and suddenly— water shot at Firefly’s shoulder, soaking her dress’s sleeve.

Stelle was grinning at her, all smug, holding her water gun in both hands. 

“Wha—? That’s cheating!” Firefly exclaimed. But, of course, Firefly retaliated without hesitation. She picked up her own gun and shot back.

“Hypocrite!” Stelle bantered, shooting her again. So Firefly shrieked and attacked back.

When Stelle started laughing, Firefly did too. They squirted each other until they were soaked and the lady had to intervene and take their water guns away. They giggled the whole time they sped away from the booth. Okay, maybe that game was a little fun.

They stopped to get caramel popcorn and then shared a funnel cake. Though, Firefly had no idea how Stelle had room for any more food after that bakery. Stelle lost tragically at ring toss several times, and they ran into a clown Stelle was immediately enamored by. She asked to honk his nose, then he threatened to call security on them, so they ran.

“Oh, Firefly!” Stelle exclaimed, stopping in the middle of the street to point at something. “Face painting!”

As she jogged up to the empty booth, surrounded by standees and posters of children with painted animals on their faces, Firefly tried to catch up. Her back was screaming at her to lay down, but she was having too much fun to listen. She kept rolling her shoulders back to loosen her muscles and ignore it. “Stelle, I think they’re closed.”

Stelle gaped at her. “What?! But it’s face painting! How could they deny my god given right to walk around looking like a fresh as hell tiger…”

Firefly snickered. “I guess they don’t care for your tiger feelings.”

As if incredibly offended and hurt, Stelle gasped and put a hand to her heart, as if staked there. Or, she could’ve actually been genuinely hurt. Sometimes it’s hard to tell with Stelle. “How dare they. I was meant for cool tiger stripes. I could probably do them myself, even.”

The moment Stelle uttered it, Firefly saw the cogs turn in her mind.

“Stelle, no, I don’t think…”

But Stelle was already pushing herself over the counter and onto the other side of the booth. She put her hand against the counter. “Welcome to my booth, strange lady I’ve never met before. What can I paint on your pretty face? A princess, maybe? The red panda is popular this time of year.”

Firefly bites the inside of her cheek to maintain her disapproval, but the smile rises to her face anyway. “Get out of there. You could get in trouble.”

“You have a bounty on your head worth millions.” Stelle reminded her. “Live a little!”

If only it were that easy. But Stelle had made her point. Firefly braced herself against the counter and swung over to the other side. But as she went to stand back up, balancing on one foot than the other, her core muscles gave out on her, and she stumbled to the ground.

“Firefly!”

Stelle held her by the arms to help her back to her feet. Her core muscles didn’t engage when she clenched them. Firefly hadn’t realized how weak her muscles were becoming. Well, she knew they were slowing down, but… well, her terminal diagnosis felt far off most of the time. Seeing the ways it was slowly immobilizing her was… jarring. This is something she wouldn’t have had a problem with not too long ago. Having to adjust to your new limits when they kept lowering was difficult, especially when half of you was convinced it wasn’t worth the effort when you’re just going to die anyway.

“Maybe we should take a break.” Stelle said after a moment, still helping Firefly stay upright with a gentle hand on her arm. Only when Stelle kept staring at her with that troubled expression did Firefly notice her breathing— she was panting, open mouthed. Even when she caught it and closed her lips, her shoulders still heaved with the overexertion and overuse of her body. 

Even as shame flooded her cheeks, Firefly couldn’t deny it. She did need to sit down for a while. It’s not something she should be ashamed about— everyone has their limits, but it comes and goes anyway.

“What about the face paint?” Firefly argued instead. 

Stelle paused to think for a moment, then she swiped a brush and a pallet from one of the foldable tables to their right. “I’ll bring it back later.”

Stelle helped Firefly back over the counter and guided her over to a bench nearby. Firefly only let go of her once she could sit down and rest her back against something. The tension in her shoulders went slack, finally relaxing and not trying to hold her together. As she sat there, she took a minute to feel her body and take inventory. 

Her feet ached, and some of her joints were suffering too. Ankles, knees, hips, and shoulders all ached from overuse. The strain on her back is what she felt the most prominently. It was overtaxed from clenching together with strength it didn’t possess anymore, trying to keep her standing up. Her calves and quads hurt from holding her weight for so many uninterrupted hours. The more her illness degraded her body, the less her muscles were capable of doing their jobs. Firefly feared the day when she discovered she could no longer move at all without pain. Muscles that deteriorated beyond the ability to move her limbs, lungs unable to process oxygen, a heart unable to pump blood. She was physically exhausted. She can’t deny it… her body can’t keep up with her anymore.

It’s come to this; completely worn out from an hour and a half of walking around a city with her best friend. She used to fight for the honor of Glamoth’s Empire, staying awake for days on end, fighting the swarm without rest. Firefly was always built to crumble, it’s not something she should be ashamed of. She cannot help who she is. All there is left to do is live with what she has. There’s nothing else to do, nothing else to be. There is nothing. No point in living, no point in dying. Nothing to do but wait for her body to fail her, one last gift from the Empire. 

So, what’s the point in feeling ashamed? What was the point in feeling any which way about her condition? It won’t change the outcome. 

Slowly, Firefly caught her breath. Stelle was looking at her curiously when Firefly went to check, but then quickly looked away when she was caught staring. Her legs were splayed out on the concrete, the bench too low to the ground for her long limbs. “You feeling better?” She asks.

“A little.” Firefly replies. “I was having too much fun, I guess I wasn’t paying attention to myself.”

“It’s okay.” Says Stelle. “We can take as many breaks as you want.” Then she looked at her sneakers, pulling her feet to rest her soles on the ground, which made her legs have to bend up to her chest. This bench was far too low to the ground. It must be made for children. “Do you… want to activate SAM? It might help.”

Firefly clenched at the fabric of her dress that rested over her thighs. “No.” She said, something about the idea revolting her. “I’d, uh, probably be recognized as a wanted criminal. His face is the one on all those wanted posters.”

“Oh right! Yeah.” Stelle scrambled quickly. “Well, do you want to go back? We had fun, but it won’t be fun anymore if you’re not having fun too.”

“No!” Firefly quickly vetoed. “I mean, I am having fun. Just give me another minute, I’ll be good to walk again soon.”

“Okay!” Stelle jumps to reply, just as Firefly had. “Cool.” They sit for another second, Stelle knocks her knees together awkwardly. “This is cool though. I mean, we never get to hang out just the two of us. It’s nice, right? I mean, I like it.”

“Me too.” Firefly agrees.

“You do?” Stelle wonders, eyes wide. “I mean, I didn’t think that you didn’t. You just said it was fun. But I’m— what I mean is, like, we can— maybe we should do this again! Not this exact thing, but a similar thing. Maybe with less walking. Although, we’re on the run from the law, so I’m not sure when we’ll get the opportunity. But if you think about it, our faces are the only faces that can go out in public without worrying about being arrested. Blade and Kafka are kind of screwed on that front. I mean, Blade has a pretty recognizable face. You know, with all the… scars...”

Firefly snorted. “That’s not wrong.” She agreed. Stelle sounds… weirdly nervous. Firefly wonders what about.

Stelle turned to her suddenly. “Do you want face paint?”

“Hmm?” Firefly hummed. Stelle is particular in a lot of ways. She can be so outgoing, care so little about other people watching her act like a loon, have so few inhibitions it borders on worrying. But sometimes— usually when it’s just her talking to another person— Stelle gets overly anxious. She stumbles over her words or just goes completely mute. Particularly when she thinks she’s bothering someone. Firefly knows this reflex saddens Kafka, and she gets why. It makes you wonder; what made Stelle so anxious to take up space? Reflexively, when Stelle doesn't know how to handle a conversation, Firefly has noticed she’ll say something random, usually something insane or completely out of the blue, just to keep talking. At least this time, it’s topical. “Sure.” She replies. “But I can’t turn towards you. I want to keep my back up against the bench so it can relax, it still hurts.”

Stelle hummed to herself, pausing to think. As if coming to an idea she’s unsure about, Stelle looks at Firefly through the side of her eye. She hesitated, then gets up and goes to stand directly in front of Firefly. Then she takes a knee, and kneels at her feet. With how low to the ground the bench was, the two of them were eye level.

Oh.

“Good?” Stelle asked.

Firefly nodded, not trusting her voice.

“Okay.” Stelle replies, her voice softer and quieter than usual. “What do you want me to do?”

Firefly's stomach flutters. “Hmm?”

“What should I paint?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Firefly said. “Whatever.”

Stelle nodded, then went for the pallet and the brush. She dipped her brush into the white paint and scooted closer for Firefly, sitting up a little taller on her knees, and started painting. Firefly couldn’t see what she was doing, but she could feel the coolness of the paint on her skin, drawing a line from her eyelid to her cheek. The only thing Firefly could see with her friend so close was Stelle’s face, scrunched in concentration.

“So, um, we’ve known Blade for a while now.” Firefly says, pulling a topic at random. The silence stretching as Firefly stared at Stelle’s face was making her insides squirm. “What do you think about him? Does he still scare you?”

“Um… not as much.” Stelle replies, absorbed in her task. “The other day, he saw me doing the exercises Kafka makes me do, and I was onto all the sword stuff when I noticed him. We ended up like, I was teaching him how to hold a sword properly. He’s got calluses in all the right places for swordplay, but I don’t think he totally remembers how to use weapons. It was cool. I'm always the one who doesn’t know stuff and needs help, so it was cool to be the one teaching people. He was… weirdly patient with me…? I dunno, it wasn’t bad. He wasn’t mean. He just... stood there.”

“He does that a lot.” Firefly realized. “Just stands there and goes along with whatever’s happening. I think it's ‘cause he doesn’t really know what’s happening most of the time.” She giggled, trying not to smile too wide and mess up whatever Stelle was trying to paint. “I think it’s funny that he lets us call him Blade.”

“We had to call him something! We couldn’t just keep calling him ‘stranger’.” Stelle argued. “Besides, his criminal records don’t call him anything and he wouldn’t respond to any of the other nicknames I came up with. He seemed to hate ‘Shattered Sword’, which is lame, because that name was sick. But ‘Blade’ is fine too, I guess.” She pouted.

“No, I think it’s cute!” Said Firefly. “It’s kind of like how you call me Firefly.”

Stelle laughed. This close, Firefly saw the crinkle under her eye, the exact shape of her smile. “Yeah! I guess I just kind of started calling you that one day. You don’t mind it, do you?”

“No. I’ve been calling myself that in my head now too.” Firefly answers honestly.

She remembers the first few days after joining the Stellaron hunters. Kafka and Stelle hadn’t known how to address her even after she’d given them the title she went by, so Stelle started throwing random clips of her identification unit to see what felt right.

“AR? SAM? SAMMY? Twenty-six? Iron? What did you just say in battle? Fyrefly type… uh, let’s go with that.”

Or, it went something like that. Actually, Firefly can’t recall when that name stuck. “How’d you come up with the nickname anyway? I didn’t think you knew my AR number.”

“I don’t. Actually, I kept forgetting the whole number and shortening it down until I figured out what you’d respond to.” Stelle admits, collecting more paint on her brush and then returning to her task. “And anyway, Firefly suits you. Kafka called you that when she first saw you.”

Firefly’s eyebrows shot up. “She did?”

“Mhm.” Stelle hummed. “She was watching out the window like Elio told her to, and said to me; ‘look, a firefly among the night stars.’ At first, I thought she was making fun of me.”

“Making fun of you?” Firefly wondered. “How so?”

Moving onto the other side of her face, Stelle’s wrist and arm became a barrier between them, though it didn’t block Firefly from seeing Stelle flush, as though embarrassed.

“Okay, so, back when I was little and I didn’t really know anything, the first time Kafka and I visited a planet with fireflies, I thought they were stars that had fallen.” She explained. “I kept trying to help them get back up to the light sky where they belonged, and when I couldn’t, I got so frustrated I started crying.” 

“Aww!” Firefly cooed despite herself.

Stelle squeezed her eyes shut, the motion crinkling her face. “I know, it’s silly!” She admitted before the brush went back to tickling Firefly's cheek. “I just kept thinking how sad and lonely it must be to not be where you belong, with all your friends in the night sky. Kafka found me like that, ugly sobbing to myself, and then she had to explain the difference to me.”

Firefly giggled, unable to stop it as the mental image took over. “I can imagine you doing that.”

Stelle made a noise of offense and shoved Firefly's face away playfully. “Shut up!”

“But it’s so you!” Firefly continued. “You’re the only person I’d know who’d cry over little bugs because you think they might be sad.”

“It would have been sad if I was right about them being fallen stars!” Stelle was quick to defend herself, deathly serious. “Imagine you’re hanging out with all your little star buddies in the night sky like you’re supposed to, and suddenly you’re down on the ground, all alone.” Her voice grew emotional, as if the idea alone was too much. “Like, you know you’re supposed to be a star in the sky, but now you’re just a bug on the ground. All of your friends are out of reach. You’d cry too!”

Firefly remembers how her tears burned when they split to her cheeks as she stood on her last battlefield. How it felt like crying was the only thing she could do, because there was nothing left to do at all. The bodies, with faces just like hers, mangled and strewn about in the dirt and dust. She remembers the hollow shock as she stood there, helplessly. 

So many times since, Firefly has wondered why she was the one to survive that day. Why did the universe spare her, out of everyone? Why not any of the others? Why not AR-214? Or AR-1368? Or AR-53935? Firefly had been a single grain of sand on a beach, indistinguishable from the others. Insignificant. Surely, she hadn’t been meant to live on after the war, her own body’s failings were proof of that. What was the point of her life now that she was alone, unable to fight the war she was created to fight? Unable to continue to serve her purpose?

Why was she spared from death, gifted a new life, if she’s just meant to die anyway?

Why do we live? Why do we die?

Why do we dream?

Firefly never has any answers. She doesn't belong here, in this world after the Swarm. Her destiny is to die, and burn to ashes. So why does she live now? There wasn’t a reason she survived that day, it was random. So does the answer even matter?

“You’re right.” Firefly replies. “I would cry.”

Stelle pauses, looking at her. Really looking at her. Then, she gathers more green paint on her brush and holds Firefly’s face still. She spreads the color on Firefly’s cheeks and eyelids. It’s a moment or so before either of them talk again.

“Are you sure you're having fun?” Stelle asks. “We can go back to the others if you’re not, it’s no big deal.”

“I am.” Firefly assures her. “I’d be having fun just watching you. You never really get to do stuff like this.”

“Yeah.” Stelle agreed. “And I know why. Objectively, learning all the stuff Kafka teaches me to make sure I don’t die is more important, but you know what I say? What’s the point of surviving if you don’t get to be alive? I mean, we’re saving the universe so we can live in it. Shouldn’t you enjoy being alive? Isn’t that the whole point of everything?”

“You think so?” Firefly asked.

“Well, I guess.” Said Stelle. “I just don’t see the point of putting this much work into anything if you don’t want that thing. If it doesn't make you happy. We came out here because it would be fun. I keep fighting to live because being alive is fun. If there wasn’t anything cool about being alive, wouldn’t you just give up?”

Hmm. Firefly’s never heard Stelle’s perspective on things like this. Her own inner struggles about purpose are things she keeps to herself. “I’ve never thought about it like that.” She admits. And, because she’s curious, asks, “What’s cool about being alive?”

Stelle snorts. “Uh, lots of stuff.” She says. “Good food, cool trees and buildings. Music you can dance to. Pretty dresses, sweaters with llamas and puns on them. Ice cream, donuts, gotcha games, trash cans. Uh, hanging out with you is pretty cool.” She stood up. “And your face paint is sick as hell, if I do say so myself. Check it.”

Firefly found her phone and turned on the front facing camera. There was a butterfly on her face. The outline was done in white and it was filled in green. There was a wing on each side of her face, starting at the corner of her eye like eyeliner and swooping down and around to her cheekbones. It was uneven and clumpy in some places, but Firefly liked it anyway. “It is cool.”

Stelle beamed at the praise. “Thanks, I got the idea from one of the pictures on those banners by the booth.”

When Firefly put her phone away again, she asked “What about your tiger?”

“Nah, I’m all face painted out.”

Firefly got to her feet, stretching her arms over her head and rolling her shoulders back. “Okay, I think I’m ready to keep going.”

Moments later, the two of them were back at it, wandering the fairgrounds. (Yes, they stopped to return the face paint.) But as Firefly kept up with her friend, her mind kept returning to Stelle’s outlook on life. She found it so charming. All Stelle sought from life was to enjoy it. Was there anything Firefly enjoyed from life that way? She liked this dress. And the water gun game. And her face butterfly. 

It felt almost cruel to fight to enjoy what remained of her life when she knew it was meant to end. But still, Firefly wanted so much from life. Imagining herself in the place of the ordinary people she sees while wandering the universe, dressing herself and eating donuts and playing carnival games. Firefly wants, so desperately, to be something. To be someone. But what’s the point of wanting when her destiny is determined?

Firefly follows Stelle to the ride she suddenly starts talking about, excited and enthralled. They approach the big wheel and hand over the appropriate amount of tickets. 

“You two have fun.” Said the worker. “The Ferris wheel is perfect for a date.”

“Wha—? This isn’t a date!” Stelle is quick to correct them before Firefly can even register what she was accused of, suddenly flush and rim rod stiff.

“Sorry darling, sorry.” They replied, ushering them into the ride.

The wheel started to move, slowly, and Firefly was still comprehending the exchange. Her and Stelle… on a date.

She thinks about it sincerely for the first time as if she can’t help it, images flood her brain. Her and Stelle, going on dates. Holding hands. Being in love. Being Stelle’s favorite person. All the fun and adventures and laughter that comes with knowing Stelle. Being known, cherished, understood. Building a future together. 

The idea clings to her like nothing ever has. Her heartbeat is loud in her ears as she realizes she wants that. She wants a future with Stelle.

She wants every day to be like today. She wants to be that cute unassuming girl that wears dresses and goes to cafes and has friends and maybe even a girlfriend and is happy.

Ever since losing her place in Glamoth’s Iron Cavalry, Firefly found solace under Elio’s Stellaron Hunters. Her world had shifted completely, and she needed something she could latch onto. Elio’s scripts were like battle orders that needed to be interpreted. But irregardless, ever since she was found floating through space, Firefly had relied on the steady stream of tasks to do, missions to complete, orders to follow. It was familiar and stable. But Firefly was beginning to realize she didn’t want that anymore. It was a lifesaver when everything changed, but now? Firefly felt it more and more— she wanted freedom. She wanted the space and the time to learn about herself, to be herself, as an individual, whoever that ends up being, and live a life she gets to enjoy.

That is something special. That is a future she would fight to have one day. To die is an honor in Glamoth’s army. But Firefly realizes… she’s not ready to die yet. She does not want to die of illness, or follow her fallen comrades to their graves. She does not want to simply get by, she wants to live. Not just for a little while, but for a long time to come. 

“Ask me what I asked you.” Firefly blurts out suddenly, as they ride to the top of the wheel.

“What?” Stelle replies, baffled. She had been muttering before, talking about something or other, but Firefly hadn’t been paying attention.

“What’s so cool about being alive?” Firefly asks, repeating her earlier words. “If we only survive so that we can live, what makes life worth living?”

“Oh, um,” Stelle flounders, “what’s cool about being alive, Firefly?”

“I get to be myself, I get to be alive with you.” Firefly answers. “Today… I’ve never had so much fun. Like I was just a normal girl, hanging out with her best friend, and nothing else mattered.” She admits to Stelle’s wide eyes. “Thank you for today. You showed me a version of my life that I could have if I were willing to fight for it.”

“I did?” Stelle asked, shocked and awed.

“Yeah, you did.” Said Firefly. “My fate has felt so imminent and unavoidable, it felt not worth it to imagine a future for myself, but I… I want to live, Stelle. I know my time is running out, and maybe it is my destiny to burn to ash one day, but I don’t want that day to be soon. Elio’s scripts are always up for interpretation, and aren’t always as they seem. I want to defy my destiny. I want to find a cure.”

They sit close on the Ferris wheel’s seats, knees touching. Stelle leans in. “Then you’ll find it.” 

…

Fyrefly type IV AR-26710 opened her eyes, blinded by the light around her. Sluggishly, she tried to recall how she got here, what was happening, and why she was alone.

She recalled the female voice, a stranger, calling her through her communication system. There was darkness and emptiness for so long, hearing another’s person’s voice has been… jarring. Frightening. But AR-26710 listened anyway. 

The last thing she remembered was stepping out of SAM, and then… nothing.

So where was she? She tried to sit up and look around. She was in a bed of some kind, but the room was small and otherwise empty. There was something up her nose, a tube, connected to some kind of device on a pole. Another thin tube was taped to her arm and connected to a bag of liquid hanging from the same pole. Her body felt like led, heavy and rusted shut. But at her attempted movement, something on the edge of her bed perked up to attention.

“Oh, you’re awake!”

It was another girl. She was wearing oversized clothes and had a face mask covering her nose and mouth. Her eyes were a dull brownish color, and her hair was fluffy and gray. She stared at AR-26710 for a moment, as if awestruck. “Oh wow, your eyes.” She says. “It’s like you can see the whole universe in them. All the stars and galaxies…”

This fyrefly unit attempted to open her mouth and speak, but her voice came as a rasp and then she started violently coughing.

“Oh!” Said the other girl. “Hold on,” She jumped off the bed and grabbed something off the ground to hand to her. It was a glass of water, which AR-26710 took without hesitation and began to drink.

“Okay, good.” Said the girl. “Um— I was supposed to get Kafka when you got up. Stay here!”

She hurried from the room, and this fyrefly unit watched her go, wondering a million things.

Who was that girl?

…

Penacony was far from what Firefly was expecting. Though, to be fair, all she’d been given to work with was “you will die three times, then earn a reward.” There was so much her script didn't account for. 

Through her time with Destiny’s Slaves, Firefly has grown comfortable acting however she pleased between the major beats of scripts. When she traveled to new worlds, she utilized her role in the script for her own intentions. She played her parts, and when she wasn’t needed onstage, she spent every moment searching for answers on the cure for entropy loss syndrome.

At the very least, through Lady Bonajade, Firefly knew for certain that a cure did still exist and would work. It would have been preferable to obtain the cure while in Penacony, but that is the hope every time she leaves on assignment. It’s not like she expects it to happen every time. But this excursion was more fruitful than usual, so she felt accomplished in the one thing she’d set out to do.

Well, maybe there were two things. But the second thing was… well…

She knew that the Astral Express would be in Penacony too, summoned for the watchmaker’s legacy. Firefly hadn’t seen Stelle since Elio informed everyone that it was time to begin Stelle’s script many months ago. She knew that Stelle wouldn’t remember her, she had always been prepared for that. Stelle has had her script since they met, this is a fate they all knew would come. And yet, she wondered. Is Firefly ready to face her best friend, her favorite person, and be a stranger in her eyes? 

But Firefly had to know— how was Stelle now? Was she still the girl Firefly had come to know for so many years? Was she happy as a trailblazer? And a more selfish part of her longed for just one more day together, having fun and enjoying each other’s company like they used to. 

Firefly knew it would be hard to say goodbye, but she missed Stelle far more than she ever thought possible. The Stellaron Hunters weren’t the same without her, Firefly wasn’t the same. 

Firefly had changed a lot from when they first met. What would Stelle think, meeting this version of her? 

Firefly told herself she wasn’t going to be selfish, no matter how deeply she yearned for Stelle’s company. She was just going to approach her as a stranger and ask about Stelle’s life, see how she is. But she got so swept up in it, having fun and sightseeing and eating food and running into so many people. She’d missed Stelle so much it was a physical pain, like an absence in her chest, eating away at her. And here she was again! Just like Firefly remembered, and she wanted to soak her in like the sun and never let go.

Firefly was just a girl to Stelle now, an ordinary person she just met. That wasn’t the life she was able to live just yet, but even just getting to pretend with Stelle felt special. 

But then her first death happened, and Firefly could never live with herself if she just left Stelle with no explanation, just thinking Firefly was dead. She knew she had to find her again and come clean. 

It had been hard to catch up to her again, but when she did, Stelle hadn’t been upset. SAM didn’t seem to surprise her. In fact, it seemed to make things make more sense to her. 

And then they were teaming up again, like old times. It was so easy to slip into routine. Their dynamic fit like an old glove. They played around during a silly acting challenge, had each other's backs during the subsequent fights. Firefly had her best friend back, if only for a while. 

When they reunited again after Firefly's second death, it was for selfish reasons. Firefly just wanted to come as clean as possible. She wanted Stelle to know who she really was, what her motivations were, where the two of them stood now that everything was seemingly over. Stelle had been so understanding, forgiving her for everything and encouraging her to stay with the Stellaron Hunters to accomplish her goal and live.

Stelle had been so happy and relieved to see Firefly again. Each time they parted, Stelle said how she wanted to see her again. She called Firefly pretty, she followed her all over Penacony without any hesitation, even when she had every reason to doubt her intentions. It made Firefly wonder… it made her hope…

For years, she and Stelle had toed the line between friendship and more, never daring to cross that line because of the inevitability of their separation. There have been so many times where Firefly saw Stelle bite her tongue, stop herself just moments short of doing something rash. Times where, instead of putting it all out there, it was just important to say you know how I feel, right? 

Stelle had been afraid in the end, Firefly could tell. Even when Stelle put on a brave face and sat down to let Kafka into her mind, even when she hugged Firefly tight and told her they’d meet again, Firefly saw it. 

If our memories shape us, does losing them change who you are? 

Firefly was glad that Stelle had been fearful for nothing. She was the same Stelle Firefly had fallen in love with. Admittedly, she’d been a little worried when they locked eyes for the first time and Firefly noticed that instead of the dull brown gray she’d come to know, Stelle’s eyes were bright gold. But Stelle hadn’t hesitated to help her. She was still silly and particular about things, carefree but just as firey as ever. And, throughout the days they spent together, Stelle had come to look at Firefly the way she used to. 

Firefly hoped. 

When her third death came around, Firefly was scared. She didn’t want to die, she refused. It wasn’t her time yet. There was still so much she wanted to do. The vision she had of her future was so clear and so bright, she couldn’t give up on it.

But her armor held out, and when she caught Stelle and they flew through the night sky together, laughing breathlessly, both of them relieved beyond belief, it felt like they were the only two alive.

SAM touched back down elsewhere on the feldspar airship, gently letting Stelle go and returning her armor and becoming Firefly once again.

The moment she was herself again, Stelle grabbed her into a tight hug. Firefly returned it just as fiercely. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” Stelle said after a while.

Firefly pulled them apart so she could look Stelle in the eye. “I am too.”

In her pocket, Firefly’s phone buzzed, one, twice, three times, enough for Firefly to take it out and read whoever was spamming her.

Silverwolf

Hey

U dead?

Jk I know ur not

I hired that pink-tailed weirdo to make sure ur final dead was as painless as possible

Ur welcome

Now come back to base already

U can hang with ur amnesiac gf later

We have sum stuff 2 go over

“What is it?” Stelle asked.

Firefly  

Be there in a sec

And thank you, Silverwolf

Firefly turned her phone off, slipping it back in her pocket. Silverwolf likes to pretend she doesn’t care, so it’s always extra rewarding to see her little slip ups, how her subtle kindness seeps through the cracks. 

“My script is over,” Firefly tells her, “I have to return to the Stellaron Hunters and update them.”

Stelle clasps her hands together anxiously. “You’re leaving?”

“For now.” Firefly confirmed. “But who knows. I’ll probably still be around Penacony for a while. Until Elio produces a script that requires our presence in some other part of the universe, I’ll probably see you around the city.”

“So, this is goodbye?”

Firefly nods. “For now, anyway. I don’t know when we’ll see each other again.”

Stelle blinks at her, then looks away, fidgeting with her gloves. Firefly recognizes her hesitance. “Can I ask you something before you go?”

“Of course.” 

Stelle kept fidgeting, unable to meet her eye. “I traveled with the Stellaron Hunters before this, so we knew each other once.” She said.

“That’s right.” Firefly confirmed.

“So…” Stelle asked, “how close were we?”

“Hmm?” Firefly hums, confused.

“My friend Acheron has a bad memory too.” Stelle tries to explain. “She says that when she meets a person, instead of relying on what she can remember to tell if she’s met them before, she relies on her feelings. And… I was thinking about that after we reunited a few days ago. When we met, we only hung out for, like, an hour, and it felt like I’d known you forever.” She swallows, looking up to meet Firefly's gaze. “When I think of you, this feeling, it— it doesn’t feel like I’ve known you for half a week. It feels like I’ve known you a whole lifetime. Everything about you feels familiar, there’s something about you that puts me at ease, that assures me you’re safe. That I’m safe when I’m with you. I feel… I feel…”

“Yeah…?” Firefly coaxed, her own heart pounding in her chest. 

“This feeling I have when I think of you, it doesn’t feel new.” She elaborates. “It’s too intense to be for someone I met a few days ago. Too… all-consuming. It’s like I didn’t know that I missed you until you were standing right in front of me, and now I miss you all the time. Which makes me feel kind of crazy, actually!” She chuckles, hectic. Firefly laughs too.

She takes a step closer and twines their hands together. “We were close.” She confirms.

Stelle looks at their hands, then back to Firefly. She swallows. “Okay.” She began. Firefly found her nerves to be adorable, but held her tongue. She felt that sense of hope again, at where this was going. “So there’s… there’s one more thing I kept meaning to say, but I keep not having time…”

Firefly nods, telling her to go ahead.

Slowly, she let go of Firefly's hand and went to cup her face. “Your eyes are like the entire universe.” And then she brought them together.

Firefly's hands went to her hips as they kissed, the fireworks booming overhead, not as loud as the thundering of her heart. For so long did she dream of a day like this, for so long did she wish to hold Stelle like she was hers.

When they finally parted, Firefly couldn’t resist a laugh. It’s just like Elio to refer to this as a “reward.” 

“What?” Stelle asked, a bare whisper against her lips.

“You told me that once before already.” She answered. Firefly took a step back. “Stelle… my war against fate has not yet reached its end. I believe it is not destiny that shapes us like Elio wants us to believe, but us who shapes destiny. And if that’s true, then I won’t let this stop me. I'm going to find a cure, and I’m going to live. Whatever it takes. And to accomplish that goal, I must continue along the path of Destiny’s Slaves. But when that day arrives and I am freed from my shackles to fate, I will find you.”

As Firefly backed away, Stelle loosened her hold on her until she let go, and Firefly summoned her armor. In SAM’s deep voice, she said “Our paths will cross again. Goodbye, Stelle.”

As she took off, she heard a shout follow her; “Okay! Call me!” And SAM giggled to himself. Yes, they were sure to meet again, under a brighter sun. In a sweeter dream.