Archive of Our Own ^beta

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A silent drift of light dusting. A layer of crunch underfoot forming beneath. Like a blanket wrapped in a forest that felt so menacing. Trees stacks in lines, beaconing a fellow warning. No algebralien dared to even step foot near that atrocity of a wood. At least,,

Not anymore.

Not after the serval burnings on poor numbers whom dared to step foot near the building that hid itself among the watchful eyes of gnarled and twisted trees.

Well all expect one

That’s oh so naive and obnoxiously blinded algebralien— well. No. Ones whose value couldn’t be fixed to anything. At least not known, variable. X. Of course it was. It was humours, ironic really. Their forgiving nature clashing with the unforgiving and merciless glares from the towering trees above.

Why wouldn’t they find themselves in a situation like this? The night sky seemed to hum and hawk. It swallowing every dim of light its gluttony could consume. Yet the stars above, twinkled and glimmered. hope that’d been lost and stolen, returning in the shape of small dots far beyond the common eye.

Snow still pelting down, the cotton coat on the ground made the wood feel somewhat less menacing. The foam almost misleading of the dangers that lurked. As temperatures began to trickle down. A tourmentful pleasure out of testing the boundaries.

The cold began to take its toll on the hop of the variable. Yet positivity contained to plague their mind. It’d be fine ! It was okay ! They’d repeat to themselves mentally like thoughts would fix anything in general. Shivering, their own hands rubbing against their skin didn’t seem to help. Maybe hope was actually lost this time.. maybe—

But then.

Warmth.

Smoke.

Something new from another direction. A new flicker of hope. They knew it! It’d be okay. So almost by nature. They found themselves following the heat. Warmth that felt like their only way out.

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It wasn’t anything necessarily out the ordinary. Living in a deserted cabin on the edge of equation playground. Isolated away from everyone one else. At least it was something Fifteen could have been proud of. That minimalist building was hers, every rough-hewn log, cut and shaped, and put perfectly into place. To build something that was hers. Away form the trouble of every other number.

Despite her warnings. Numbers kept approaching the peaceful life she’s made away. It was a living hell.

Yet. Now she’s finally done it, maybe she was feared? Maybe she wasn’t? She didn’t really care. She simply wanted to be left alone. To be at a calm.

A normal day. Fifteen got herself out of bed. Changed her clothes. Cooked some food. Before working to keep the fire burning through our the teasing winter months. An axe spilt so deeply into an old stump. Just below the creaking uncleaned deck.

Then there goes the day of chopping away at the trees that used to watch. Used to threaten. A stare that Fifteen had grown far to numb to.

Snow began to heave down in sheets, its blanket layering over the grass. A dilemma that didn’t seem to affect the algebralien anymore. Covered in a thick voluminous coat, a lining for deer fur that protected her neck from the horrific bite of the cold. A fur lined ushanka, flaps cupping their ears like the snow had something sick and twisted to say.

Yet despite these hardships she contained to hack away at the wood before her, the axe cutting into the rim of the barks flesh.

All seemed well until. Well until,,

Footsteps? The snows soften and gentle pattern seemed now disrupted. Cracking and crushing of it echoed in the line of watching slender wood. Fifteen paused for a second, her grasp tightened around the flamethrower she always kept on standby. And—

There they were, it wasn’t a deer, it wasn’t a animal… it was —

The variable.

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Fifteen seemed to find themselves staring, way longer then they wanted themselves to. Why— why would another algebralien be out here NOW? Things clearly weren’t clicking inside her own head. Her axe lowered, embedding deep into the crevices of the old stumped tree. Cracks began to form along its lining, clearly being attacked like this regularly.

The variable, X, stood a good few meters away, letting the tension simmer and fry. Snow sliding down the glossy curls on their head. As the pair stood in a silence that felt louder and more powerful than any words could ever be. Power that felt so cruel.

A crunch. Another.

X started lifting their own feet before they realised they were already carrying themselves towards her. Fifteens grip on her flame thrower seemed to almost tighten defensively, trying to make an almost like she was trying to statement. Despite the fact X probably wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone another one of their kind.

An unearthly soundlessness being cut in half by the small powdery wave of snows movement. The endless wood blanched, a shimmer of the moon glowing under an eerie inky abyss. How wicked it felt. The silence stretching on teasingly. Oh so punishing , for acts neither committed.

Eventually, a sonorous voice inched its way though the harrowing stillness.

“What. Are you doing here.”

Fifteen, her tone sounded fed up. Drowning itself its own stentorian intonation.

X blinked, pausing for just a moment. Maybe two. Trying to find the correct way to word their situation. I mean what really was there TO say? It was honestly pathetic. Doubting their own words before they finally tumbled out with something along the lines of:

“I got…— lost.?”

They let out somewhat of a nervous chuckle, trying to hide the abash in their voice. The crack in their speech pretty much blowing every ounce of protection they’d built.

“Lost. Right.”

Fifteen stared at X with a pretty disapproving gaze. Her glare felt similar to that of a farmer watching livestock. A shiver ran up the poor variables spine, they couldn’t tell if it was the cold. Or the fact they were covered head to toe in snow. But the mood seemed to shift. Less. Aggressive. Maybe. Or maybe they were so drowned in their delusion of hope that they found good in everything.

Once again, a voice cut though their daydreaming.

“You’re going to get mauled by animals if you go back out there now.”

Fifteen gestured back to the trees that stood so ominously, eyes that felt like they tracked every move they made. The snow that once felt joyful and safe. Felt like a skin of pure deceit. Hiding the voids true horrific intentions.

X hummed calmly in reply. There wasn’t much else to say to that. For once it was a well known fact. That their hopeful dreams couldn’t drag them out of this time. Nodding slowly as they finally gathered the courage to look behind themselves. A brief wave of unease washed over them. Like something new had actually opened their eyes to the horrors behind them. Something they’d seemed to blinded by naiveness to actually see.

“You should probably stay in the cabin for the night.”

Fifteen spoke with such a condescending tone, to the point where it felt more like a command rather than a suggestion. Her face seemed to soften ever so slightly, yet her authoritative expression didn’t waver. Her eyes darted towards the cabin quite literally next to where she had been chopping trees just moments before.

And without a second word she began making her way towards it. Fifteens steps sounded heavy against the light surface of the snow. The layer folding instantly under her boots, as they cabins wood creaked, the wood sounded old. Probably was infact. She stood just outside the door, her hand gripping the handle. Before she eventually turned around. Still on the porch.

“You coming?”

X stood quietly. Blinking. Their eyes seemed to light up, beaming with something new. As they nodded almost TO enthusiastically. As they let their hope in everyone carry their legs forward. And into the cabin. Right behind Fifteen.

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A wave of fresh air washed over pair almost instantly. A warmth trickled down X’s back, an almost audible sigh of relief escaped their mouth. Shaking themselves aggressively, like a dog out of a rainstorm, the snow fell over dramatically on top to hard aged wood floor. Creating a pile of melting slush pooling on the ground.

Fifteen hung her ushanka on the coat rack. Snow from her hat slipped right down in one massive chunk. Like a hammer, landing on the ground with an aggressive thud. Disrobing her furred layer, now hanging on the rack like loose skin. Revealing her slouchy tank beneath. Stains and wood ashes clung desperately to the old thing, permanently imbedding its story into her clothes. Her hair flowed, a crimson red that ran down their back. Some how so messy yet put together at the same time. Contradictory at its finest.

X stood there at the door. Their laced shirt, straps that clung to the moisture of the long forgotten snow. A small pinch in the middle of it, tied together with a small ribboned bow. Shorts with fake pockets there simply for the aesthetic. An extra layer of pink and white checkered fabric stitched underneath, to thin to actually keep anyone warm.

Still standing there. Almost waiting to be invited in. Fifteen already venturing inside her own home. As X stood there like some sort of oblivious idiot. They didn’t really know what to do, I mean knowing all the things they’d heard about Fifteen. Yet they believed in pretty much anyone and everyone. What were they actually supposed to do?