Archive of Our Own ^beta

Kaiser can see the sun, finally streaming through the boughs of the trees, illuminating the barren forest floor beneath her feet. There’s a thin carpet of leaves, just enough to collect dew but barely concealing the icy ground below. They catch on the sunbeams, dappling the air around them. She scoffs, turning back to glare at Ness. 

As expected, Ness is glancing around, eyes carefully alight with joy. Evidently, she finds some beauty in this watery winter morning. Kaiser only sees trees, bare and pale in the bitter cold. The world seems flat and dull. Hunger is only a dragging heaviness in her stomach, not unfamiliar. Her arms and legs, at least, are still strong and sinewy. Soon, though, if they can’t find food before spring brings plants, her body will start to eat away at itself and they’ll be too weak to hunt. A sad and pathetic death, perhaps befitting both of them.

Kaiser scowls deeper, digging her nails into the palm of her hand and stomping forward, further away from Ness. Her pack grows lighter on her back each day as they carefully portion their remaining food and water. They’re down to a third of a can of beans. It reminds her of childhood, curling up in makeshift shelters and shivering the nights away, except that it’s really not the same at all. In fact, despite the hollowness withering at her insides, Kaiser is, at least, free, though tastes a deep bitterness at the back of her mouth.

The world had ended soon after Kaiser’s life had begun. Nobody could possibly care about soccer anymore. Those grueling months of training gave her physical endurance and a loyal follower, but certainly not a promise of a good life. What a waste of anguish. Kaiser’s drive remained what it had always been: survive. Carve out a path to keep going. It sometimes seems like soccer was a brief, blurry dream; she had held tight to that glimmer of hope, and was disgusted at herself for it. 

Now, things are clear. None of that matters. She doesn’t need to awe any audience or squash competitors. It leaves her with a restless, angry itch. Kaiser kicks a rock in front of her and watches as it falls in a sad arc. 

“Hmm.” Ness’ voice interrupts. “...”

“Spit it out.” Kaiser doesn’t look at her. That constant, useless muttering makes her want to yank her own ears off. Or perhaps break Ness’ jaw.

“I’m thinking,” Ness objects, squatting down next to a tree and squinting at a patch of mushrooms. Reluctantly, Kaiser joins her in staring at the brown caps, almost exactly the same color as the dreary dead leaves around them. Ness’ stomach growls audibly, and they both sigh. Kaiser doesn’t have the heart to be annoyed, not when they’re this desperate. 

“Well?” Kaiser prompts. “What are they?” She studies them curiously. Each mushroom is fairly large, with a wide bulbous white stem and a faded brown cap. 

“I-I don’t know,” Ness stammers. “I’m not– they could be steinpilz, I guess?” 

“Is that good or bad?” Kaiser avoids acknowledging her own limited knowledge of mushrooms. She should present a confident front to Ness. No need to mention that she’s pretty sure she’s never tried any mushrooms.

“Um. Good, I think. But we can’t be sure!” Ness adds quickly. “They could be poisonous.” She frowns. “I could try one to find out. To see if they’re safe for you.”

Kaiser slaps Ness’ hand away from the mushrooms. “You’re such an idiot. That’s a stupid fucking plan.”

“I’m just trying to help.” Ness stands up and brushes off leaves, face pinched. 

Filled with a sudden burst of petty anger, Kaiser grabs a handful of leaves from the ground and throws them in Ness’ face. She splutters and stumbles backwards, hands automatically flying up to comb through her short fluffy hair. Kaiser rises, leaning against the tree and grinning. That’ll show her.

“Pfft–” Ness coughs, finally righting herself and staring at Kaiser, who meets her gaze, still smiling. They hold eye contact for a few moments before Ness bursts into laughter, much to Kaiser’s surprise. She frowns and crosses her arms.

“Sorry, sorry,” Ness says, still chuckling. Her eyes are shining as the smile splits her face like a ray of sun. It makes her look so soft, different from the tight-lipped polite expression she usually keeps on her face when she’s talking to Kaiser. Kaiser wavers for a moment, unsure.

The sudden snap of a twig draws her attention away.

 Ness looks immediately, her eyes widening. Kaiser turns around slowly, scanning the foliage and the distant trees. Her heart pounds despite herself. 

Everything looks empty. Kaiser gestures for Ness to stay put. She walks forward, as slow as she can, towards the source of the sound, drawing her knife from her pocket. Her hand is steady. Whatever waits, they will find it, and it will keep them alive for another few days. 

She tightens her grip as she spots a flash of movement. Something bounds between trees, too fast to see. 

A patch of sunlight finally hits it as it stops. Kaiser nearly drops the knife when she sees the deer. It’s large, nearly taller than her, with a tapered mouth and shaggy fur, and it’s so close that she can see the velvety texture of the antlers rising above its head. They’re slender and pointier than Kaiser would expect. She shifts her feet slightly, peering closer to get a better view.

The deer doesn’t move when she approaches. It only ripples like a mirage in the light, pale auburn and the most beautiful creature Kaiser has ever seen. She’s fighting to keep her breath steady, so close that she can see its sides heaving as it breathes, almost hear its huffing. 

Kaiser expected hunger, but all she feels is awe. To kill this deer would be the most unforgivable thing she had done. She has done ugly things to stay alive, it’s true; but this feels sacred. The knife is heavy in her hands, resting like obligation on her gnawing gut. It scratches at her skin until she steps back; leaves crackle under her feet and the deer startles.

It lopes forward, further into the light, as Kaiser curses herself. The sun illuminates its flank and the glistening blood that stains the hair on its stomach. A large tree branch protrudes from its ribcage, impaling it completely. The branch is stained bloody, covered in splinters and peeling bark. It’s a surreal sight, making Kaiser blink several times. She feels frozen in place, staring the deer in its shining dark eye. Its face looks peaceful despite the injury.

She steps with caution, backing away. The knife is returned to her pocket. Kaiser is mute, immune to any sounds other than breath. Unsteadiness makes her nearly tremble, but she is past the shaky pains of hunger by now. Every movement is deliberate, renewed with purpose. The world exists in this small moment, a bubble of warmth and silence that stretches between the two of them. A sense of comfort nestles into Kaiser’s lungs, embeds itself with bloody force. She’s awfully tempted to curl up at its feet and finally let her eyes close, with no worry or pain; only its gentle spindly legs curling upwards, suspended in an eternal limbo of sacrifice.

Kaiser is frozen in place until Ness’ footsteps sound behind her. The deer steps away, unbothered, abandoning Kaiser as its silhouette grows smaller between the trees. 

—

Ness doesn’t say a word at first.

Kaiser looks as composed as ever, but her eyes are slightly wider than usual, and her breath comes quickly. Ness studies her curiously, observing the swoop of her lashes and the dark bend of her mouth, expecting a cutting comment. Instead, they just stand there in silence until Ness feels the need to prompt her.

“A bit gruesome, isn’t it?” She whispers, sidling closer to Kaiser. They’re both a little sweaty from the adrenaline and the unexpected sun. Kaiser isn’t even holding her knife. “Ah! Smart! Waiting for it to die on its own, very efficient.” The mild nausea rising in her throat at the sight isn’t enough to deter her from a meal, not anymore. In their early days, Ness had refused to even consider hunting forest animals. She couldn’t imagine cutting up one of the fluffy squirrels she used to see at the park. 

Kaiser, though, had always been the one to butcher them, morphing them into a greasy pile of protein and tendons that had kept them alive. It left Ness with a gaping debt to her and an even deeper loyalty. Despite Kaiser’s words, she had proven that she’d have Ness’ back; quite clearly, they had developed a sort of bond, beyond soccer. Besides, Kaiser never stops her from etching runes onto trees and fallen pieces of bark; she only gives her an odd look and steals glances from time to time.

“No.” Kaiser shakes her head limply. “We’re not killing it. There’s no way in hell that I’m eating that.”

Ness furrows her brow. Kaiser could certainly be stubborn at times, but there were usually ways to dance around it. “We need protein, don’t we?” She makes her voice light. “There’s plenty of sticks and leaves for a fire. We can make a little banquet out of it.”

“I said we’re not eating it.” Kaiser’s gaze is still distant.

“It’ll be fine.” Ness huffs a frustrated breath. “This is exactly what we’ve been eating. If you’re not going after it, then I will.” She pulls out her pocketknife, flicking the blade out. 

Kaiser draws her own knife and cuts off Ness’ path. Her eyes flash with emotion. “ Listen to me, Ness. Can you even—” 

“Do you hear yourself right now?” Ness interrupts, out of patience. “I don’t want to starve to death. Is that impossible for you to understand? I’m being logical. You want me to be logical.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Kaiser says. “Seriously, stop talking nonsense.” She waves the knife in the air for emphasis.

“You’re the one talking nonsense,” Ness exclaims, voice rising. They stare at each other for a few moments. Kaiser’s impossibly beautiful, especially in the uneven light of the trees. Her hair is tangled, but the blue has barely faded since they’d dyed it. She holds the knife outstretched, threatening, a menacing glint in her eyes. As Ness stares at where the metal shines in the sun, Kaiser’s hand shakes almost imperceptibly, shifting her knuckles to hide it. It’s yet another reason to find food to eat, but it’s human enough for Ness to fold. A slight touch of vulnerability that she can’t deny Kaiser; in return, she’ll bend to her will. This is the price to pay, she supposes.

“Okay, Kaiser. Fine. You’re right.” Ness slips the knife back into her pocket and raises her hands in surrender. Her heart pounds. Kaiser looks like a wounded cat, begrudgingly sheathing her knife and glaring petulantly at Ness.

“We’re leaving.” Kaiser stalks past her, brushing her shoulder as she does so. She says nothing to Ness’ anxious chatter as they pick their way back to where their packs are, slouching under some trees and passing the bottle of water back and forth. Ness takes tiny sips, savoring it, though it doesn’t feel like enough. Her head still spins when she looks up through the canopy at the pinpricks of pale grey sky above. If she had more energy, she’d reach her hands up, as if she could collect the droplets of water evaporating from the trees in the midday warmth. 

—

When Kaiser stands up to stretch, Ness is asleep beneath a tree, drooping to one side like a sad flower. 

She kicks Ness in the leg. “Get up.” It takes some shaking for Ness to startle awake, before spotting Kaiser and smiling blearily.

“What’s going on?” Ness rubs her eyes, blinking a few times and pulling her knees to her chest.

“We’re going to find that deer. Don’t get your hopes up,” Kaiser warns before Ness can start talking. “It’s still not getting eaten, but it’s probably dead by now.”

“Ah, I see.” Ness shrugs her pack onto her shoulders and dusts some dirt off of herself. “Let’s get going, then!”

Kaiser rolls her eyes, striding away without waiting for her to catch up. It’s even brighter than earlier. Everything is plain and dry and normal. Nothing like the deer. It couldn’t have gone far, Kaiser figures; it must be dead by now, or nearly there, collapsed on some pile of leaves or in some shady corner.

Ness catches up quickly, jogging to her side. Of course she does. There’s never time to breathe around her. It’s exactly the sort of companionship Kaiser dreamt of every night when she was younger. Everything she ever wanted, really; all that she could ever have. Life doesn’t really get much better than this, does it? Kaiser hates it, resents it with every ounce of her being. This is love, but it feels all wrong and twisted: Ness’ blind faith and her own bitterness, the peak of her existence. It had always felt like it would be a short and dreary life. She’d deluded herself into believing that there was something more, and then the whole world contorted itself into an absolute Fuck you, you worthless piece of shit. It’s exactly what her father would’ve wanted for her, and what was always waiting for her, no matter how many goals she could score. A cold and desperate death.

They’re both breathing heavily by the time they reach the deer. By now, it’s a carcass, beginning to rot and stink in the heat of the clearing. Ness averts her gaze while Kaiser’s heart sinks despite herself. It makes her want to close her eyes and bathe in the memory of its living form. She misses it, feels the pull in her chest towards the way it used to be. Time passes differently than it did before the end of the world. She can barely guess at days and nights, let alone months. Perhaps the deer has always been here, waiting to walk through the trees one last time and look up at the sun, eyes glazing over. 

Kaiser swats at the flies surrounding it and crouches, peering at its bony limbs and the skin pulling away from the flesh. The blood has faded to a dark brown, crusted on the bed of grass underneath. She brushes her hand gently over the wound, avoiding the splinters. Heat still radiates from the swollen flesh. Through the buzz and movement of insects, it could nearly be breathing.

From behind her, Ness butts in, “Good call! Looks like it might get us sick.” Her simpering is nauseating. 

“Come on. You grab the other end.” Kaiser exhales, dragging herself to her feet and motioning to Ness.

Wisely, Ness does not question if she has had a change of heart. She complies quickly, as she should. They carry it for several paces, then drag it the rest of the way to the river.

Kaiser carefully picks the twigs and leaves out of its matted hair before laying it between fronds of marshgrass. She finds a nice hollow near some rocks where the earth dips lower, forming a shallow cradle. Ness helps her collect armfuls of wild rye and reedgrass, draping them delicately and weighing the edges down with rocks until the deer becomes a smooth grassy lump. It paints a serene scene, hiding any trace of gore.

Ness mutters a quiet prayer, eyes closed earnestly in respect. Kaiser joins her wordlessly and bows her head, gazing at the earth and the weeds swaying in the wind. Some of these plants could be eaten or boiled, if they were hungry enough. Tonight, they’d likely have to sleep with bellies half-ful of grass, unsatisfied. The weeds have survived the tough, sour weather, and will likely taste of frost.

At least they won’t have to huddle for warmth or sleep curled around a dying fire. Their sleeping bags should be enough, as long as it doesn’t rain. The riverbank is soft and loamy, padded with plenty of grass. Kaiser finds the ambient rushing of the river almost soothing, like trains passing outside her window, not to mention the promise of filling their canteens.

She leaves Ness, still kneeling, to follow the sound of water.

—

The afternoon sun is beginning to droop lower in the sky. Ness traces the outlines of the clouds with her eyelashes, thrilled by the sight. She leans against the cracked stone well several feet away from Kaiser, letting her head rest on its lip. Her fingers absentmindedly doodle symbols and hearts on the cool dirt.

Kaiser is laying in the grass, arms bent behind her head and legs outstretched. Her blue hair forms a pillow behind her neck, spooling over her shoulder and curling against the ground. Ness scoots closer, away from the well, wrapping her arms around her knees and looking intently at Kaiser, who opens one eye and grunts. Her eyes flutter a few times, and she purses her lips, looking away from Ness. As always, her face is cold and annoyed, but the light gives it warmth.

Ness can see every pore on the slope of her nose and the peppering of light freckles across her cheeks. She watches the swell of her cheeks, their warm glow and their softness, nearly reaching out to sweep away the blond strands stuck to her forehead and the sides of her face. She wants to rest her thumb on Kaiser’s lips, feel their give, and touch the spot where they glisten. Kaiser is more than her usual immortal self; she looks real and human, rosiness of blood dusting her skin, fine hairs on her arms where they brush against the grass. Ness bets Kaiser is sun-hot to the touch, like her own face feels right now.

What will Ness say? What can she say? Kaiser is not merciful, usually, but Ness would risk her fury for a moment’s contact.

Before she has the chance, Kaiser is shifting, digging an arm into her pack. Ness watches, too enraptured to care if she’s caught staring. Kaiser pulls out their comb, old and wooden and missing teeth, and looks at Ness expectantly. She appears perfectly neutral, mouth drawn in a line.

Confused, Ness takes it from her, turning it over in her hands and staying quiet. It would be a shame to disturb this moment. The birds are returning to the trees, and insects hum by the surface of the water. She has waited an eternity for things to thaw. 

“Brush my hair,” Kaiser demands, turning her back to Ness without another word. Ness is greeted with the waterfall of Kaiser’s hair flowing down her neck and back in its messy tail. She crosses her legs under her and reaches for it hesitantly, unsure how much she can touch. Kaiser, impatient, scoots backwads, closer to Ness. There are stray hairs sticking out and coiling around her bare shoulders, inviting Ness to brush her hand over them. She almost does it, but folds the comb through Kaiser’s dye-split ends instead, working through them until it looks like a glossy blue feather.

Kaiser is strangely devoid of feedback, choosing to sit still and wait as Ness drags the comb down the next section of hair. She feels like she’s handling a wild animal, biding her time until she’s driven away. Yet, Kaiser remains, even when Ness reaches the section at the base of her neck with the most tangles. She doesn’t even wince, but Ness feels guilty with every tug, humming a soft tune that she hopes will distract Kaiser from any pain. 

The rest is easy, just Ness slowly forking through Kaiser’s sideswept bangs and the blond hair at the top of her head, finally able to brush fully through to the end. She continues humming, longer than necessary, until she runs out of breath and lazily lets her hand fall through the strands instead, feeling the smoothness between her fingers. Kaiser leans into the touches and back against her, slumping until she’s laying on Ness’ legs, blinking sleepily up at her upside-down.

Not sure what else to do with the soft weight in her lap, Ness starts humming again, some quiet song, still running her hands through Kaiser’s hair. Her heart feels light and drowsy. As if to mirror her, Kaiser lets out a small yawn and lets her eyes fall closed, relaxing completely. She’s just as warm as Ness expected.

The life between them, the pulsing blood, the completeness, the awe that lives like a lit fuse in Ness’ heart—it is all enough to last them forever. Ness promises to herself. We will never be apart . Her hunger will be overshadowed, time and time again. She has faith, even as her ribs show through and they grow too weak to walk long distances, chewing grass and insects, scrabbling at the dirt to search for bones. By the time the squirrels and rabbits come back to the forest, the hollow where they buried the deer is only dirt and a scattering of pebbles.