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#also: mika and emrys have a sibling relationship. before anyone asks
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[id: a header with a deep blue gray background. in the center, there is a circular photograph of a lighthouse. behind the photo is a monoline sun, eclipsed by the photo. in block text across the center reads ‘the metamorphosis of the lost: an update’ / end id]
it’s been a while since i’ve done one of these, but my writing has been going pretty well these past couple of weeks, so while i prepare other content (re: character intros (!!!). in 2022, i’ve managed to cobble together act iii: relapse, which was written over the course of the spring semester. i also, more recently, started act iv: revolution, and that’s going by nicely, especially as i strive to meet my daily word goals (hello, excel spreadsheet). 
anyways, in honor of having a taglist with more than one person on it, i’ve decided to post a few excerpts, which i haven’t really done for this wip lol. 
all words + the taglist will be under the cut for length purposes.
i. the red saint & her shadow. 
(an interaction between june and india from the beginning of act iii. a/n: this was written at the beginning of the year. writing them currently, i really feel like i’m missing something from their dynamic, so i’ve been rereading this scene a lot lol.)
Belladonna was quiet, her face slightly pinched beneath the domino. 
“If you didn’t have to,” she started. “Then why did you?”
“How could I not?” India said, and it sounded too honest, too vulnerable, even to her own ears, as if it was painfully obvious she was revealing some hidden part of herself to someone else. “Back then, I believed they were helping the city. When I was younger, I used to scoff at the idea of vigilantes and heroes, but after a while, after seeing it firsthand, I did become convinced that I could change things for the better for someone else. It gave me a drive for the first time in my life. Instead of just trying to survive for no particular reason, I could do something about it.”
“Yes, I was young. Fifteen. All the people I know started out younger.” She paused, thinking carefully over how to formulate her next thought. “Someone I knew used to always say that we can’t help what happened to us, or what it turns us into, but we can try and change ourselves once we see our own reflection. We can make things clearer. We can use what we see as flaws to do better. I grew up in the South District. I was an orphan. I learned how to hurt other people to protect myself. I never thought about justice because I never thought it was something I could control.”
Until now. Until then.
India hated to think that Vin had given her anything, but he had. He had given her power for the first time in her life, had allowed her to write her own destiny, decide how she wanted to do things, more so than anyone else had ever before.
It was what had blinded her, in the end. Believing that following someone else’s cause was her own. India had been beholden just as everyone else was; that was why she had been benched. She just hadn’t realized it, how trapped she actually was.
Now she was free. Now no one could tell her what to do. Now India was allowed to decide what was right and wrong and act on it. 
No more changing herself. No more being told to be better, be different, be someone else, someone they thought was more than whatever she was, a South District orphan born and raised on the rocks, unable to outgrow her own edges for fear of how unprotected it would leave her. India might not love her roots, but they were hers, in the end. She had come from this city. She was Kevlan, through and through. 
ii. flame & phantom
(another excerpt from act iii. emrys and mika go patrolling after finding out india is alive as the red saint, but are unable to save a woman’s life. a/n: somehow, a lot of tmotl ended up being emrys’ story, which i can’t say i mind. her pov is a lot of complicated thoughts most of the time.)
She had said she could do this. She had sounded so cool and confident, too. Emrys had been proud of herself, for being able to stand up for what she wanted. The rest of the conversation hadn’t gone as well, but she hadn’t let herself be shut down. Not this time. 
Now, she thought that they probably had a point, about her. Maybe she couldn’t do this.
Maybe she could.
Maybe both thoughts were equally terrible.
“I’m going to find India,” she announced. The flames licked at the edges of the jacket, already crinkling, the outer layer peeling away as the cloth beneath caught more easily, the fire dancing up into the sky with a bright shower of sparks that had her flinching back and shielding her face. The embers fell to the ground around Mika’s feet, burning and burning and then burning out.
Mika didn’t say anything. Emrys glanced at him coolly, and found him looking away from her. Fine by her. She didn’t care if he approved or not; better he didn’t notice she was gone at all, until she could clear more space.
Emrys waited another few seconds just to be sure, ignoring the part of her that whispered that she should check on him, make sure he was okay, but this was Mika. He was never not okay. Nothing fazed him, and no one. 
She sighed, staring down at her own feet, battered and bruised through the white of the ballet flats. There were drops of blood scattered along the seams, which bothered her now that she had noticed; she couldn’t stop focusing on it, the innocuous drops in no pattern except the one she conjured.
Mika still hadn’t said anything. Emrys looked at the embers of the jacket, then turned to scan the skyline, wondering where she could start, the wind whipping through her body and helping to pull her seams apart with vicious, grabby hands.
The abandoned warehouse, she thought. The place where India had died. She should start there, right? If there was going to be anything anywhere, it would be there. Maybe a clue to India’s resurrection, even. 
Emrys started to walk without even really thinking about it, setting forward at a determined pace, quickening as she got further and further away from the fire, and getting colder and colder. Without her jacket, much of the skin of her body was bare to the winds, her tank top protective but not warm. Kevla had vicious winters, so the fall became crueler as the months went by.  
She had turned the corner by the time she heard the footsteps behind her, not clattering or loud, but soft and steady, a quiet, rhythmic thump that belayed Mika grabbing her arm and grinding them both to a halt as he slowed, clothes and hair settling back down on his body as gravity descended.
“Let me go,” she said, white knuckled.
Mika let her go. Emrys turned to move, and he tripped her. It was only years of getting used to falling that had her catching herself with a half-dance of steps, turning so that they were facing one another.
“Enough of this,” Mika said. His eyes were burning. She could hear the quiet sounds of him breathing, harsher than normal.
“No,” she said. “I told you. I’m going to find India.”
“And Crow and X-le told us not to,” Mika said.
Emrys scoffed. “Like you’re the poster child for following orders.”
“Enough,” Mika repeated. “We’re either finishing patrol or going home.”
Another Emrys would have been happy that he used the word home, but this Emrys was feeling vicious and vengeful and torn up inside.
“I don’t want to,” she said spitefully. 
“Flame,” Mika said, the warning clear. 
“You’re my partner, not my boss,” Emrys said scornfully.
“I’m not either of those things,” Mika hissed, stepping closer. “I’m just the person making sure you don’t fuck anything up.”
That hurt. Emrys didn’t flinch, and was absurdly proud of herself for growing thicker skin in the time since a few hours ago. She was getting better and better at it.
“I didn’t ask you to do that!” she burst out. “You’re the one that followed me to begin with. I never asked for your help.”
“But you needed it,” Mika said, and though she couldn’t see his mouth, she could picture the small, cruel tilt of his half smile. She had to narrow her eyes to stop tears from falling, already feeling them well up in her eyes, like she was some weak and pathetic person who couldn’t keep it together.
“I’m going to look for India,” she repeated. “You can go home if you want.”
iii. sunrise after the fall gala
(an interaction between india and june in the aftermath of the fall gala (which takes up the majority of the beginning of act iv) and india’s ill thought out confrontation with the black saint. a/n: more recent writing and a more recent interaction between these two. act iv has been a mess lol.)
The laugh slid off India’s face.
“You can’t create something from nothing,” she said savagely. “I imagine that not even Catrin Flint can save someone who was burned alive.”
“Someone could,” June replied steadily.
“Then maybe it was Kevla herself,” India remarked sarcastically, rising to her feet and gritting her teeth against the spasm her leg sent.
“You’re really not curious?” June asked, also standing. The morning air nipped at her cheeks, the rosy glow of the rising sun starting to cascade over the skyline ahead of them. 
India shrugged carelessly. “It’s not that I’m not,” she said. “It’s just that it doesn’t matter. Or, it didn’t.”
June eyed her, pondering the words. In a way, that was understandable. June herself tried to care as little as possible pertaining to the motive of The Organization or the Benefactor. Motivation didn’t matter in the end. It was the actions that did.
They were both women of action, though they went about it very differently.
“Will I be hearing from you soon?” India asked after a second. 
June looked at her, parsing her thoughts.
India raised an eyebrow. “Last time I checked, we were kind of in on this together, right? This whole revenge scheme, or whatever you want to call it,” she hurriedly corrected after June coolly raised an eyebrow at the words “revenge scheme.”
June considered her. “Yes,” she said after a pause. “We are.”
India smiled. It transformed her face beneath the domino, softening the edges. India, June had found, often bared her teeth, but rarely smiled.
“I’m a comm away,” she said, sounding almost pleasant and energized at the prospect.
“I might take you up on that soon,” June said.
“Not gonna kiss and tell then?” India replied. “Just going to string me along.”
June surprised herself by the sharp half laugh that bubbled out of her.
“You’ve been helpful,” she said instead of replying, doubting that she could match India’s newfound wittiness. She had always had a sense of humor, even as a child. June was used to being the dour, serious one. Now she was the serrated blade, cold as steel and just as harsh. “Thank you.”
India sobered, looking at her as if she was an alien before she managed a stiff and slightly unsure, “You’re welcome.”
“Take care of yourself,” June added. “I don’t want to find you dead in a ditch before you can be useful.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” India replied sarcastically, but they had talked enough times for June to pick up the undercurrent of fondness with which she said it. “Take care, Belladonna.” She gave June a two fingered salute, and June found herself returning her impression of it before she could stop herself.
India smiled, and then she was sauntering off into the darkness, only a slight limp in her step and the helmet tucked under her arm any indication of what had gone down only hours previously.
June smiled privately to herself. India was wearing off on her.
taglist (scream to be added or removed!):  @cannivalisms   @sunshineomeara @thepixiediaries @muddshadow
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