She was twenty-two when she first met Damian. Her whole life, she’d been told necromancy wasn’t a super’s job, and her time at the Academy only reiterated that point. Door after door closed in her face, dozens of applications sent off without so much as a rejection letter in return.

So when she finally got an interview with Damian, it was like a miracle. And it was one she was determined not to let go to waste. 

She supposes that’s why there are tears in her eyes when she accepts his call, stricken silent as she stares at his murky image between the pages of her spellbook. Voice uneven, she says, “D-Damian. Hi”. Then, it spite of herself, she smiles. “B-Believe it or not, I was just thinking about you.”

“Well, obviously, why wouldn’t you?”, Damian retorts, and she finds her already feeble smile growing weaker. His image in the book wavers, the font making up his appearance quivering before it returns once more. “Listen, I can’t talk for long, so I’ll just make this quick. I’m working a case, and I can’t remember where I left my pendulum, you know the one.”

She nods, of course she does. “Yeah. You keep it in the Miscellaneous Box. It’s in a velvet box on the top shelf in your room.” She bites her lower lip. “Is, uh, is there anything else I can do to help?”

“Well, I don’t need anyone killed so no.” He lets out an amused laugh, and the sound of a woman giggling echoes from somewhere on his end. “I hope you’re appreciating this little break you’ve been getting. Shit’s been a real mess in Calamity.”

By now, Mara’s smile has given way to a full on frown. She scoffs and says, “Well, it’s not a break, remember? I meant it when I said I wasn’t coming back, D”. At the sound of the woman’s laughter, she grits her teeth, purple flames enveloping her hands. “I’ve been working with Bramble, from Miracle City and-”

“That dump?”, Damian lets out with a laugh that she once found endearing but now can’t help regard as mildly grating to the ears. “Oh, Mara, I step out for two seconds, and it all just goes to the Dead Realm, doesn’t it? Have your little fun if you want. You’ll be back.”

But Mara just shakes her head. Her eyes glow. But they’re not dim as they usually are. They’re brighter, and as she feels her anger surging, she finds the glow traveling throughout her body, her veins tainted with the power pulsing through her. “No, I won’t. Bramble’s…he’s actually really nice. I’m really coming into my own out here. I-I’m grateful for the time we spent together, really, I am. But I’m not coming back, D. I’m not.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Hey, while I have you, you think you can do one of your teleporting things for me?” A delighted squeal echoes between them, and Mara growls, her breathing heavy as she clenches her hands tightly around her spellbook. “I, uh, need a change of clothes.”

Mara’s silent for a long while. Then, an airy breath escaping her, she asks in a quiet voice, “Did you hear anything I just said?”

“Of course, I did”, Damian retorts, voice growing irritated. “Listen, can we talk about this later? I’m sure you’re really burning the midnight oil fetching coffee for Mr. Moss, but the stuff I’m doing is actually important.”

Frustration wells within Mara. “And what I’m doing isn’t?” She scoffs and shakes her head. “And for the record, that Mr. Moss doesn’t have me fetching coffee. That was you.”

“Whatever, Tombs. Have all the fun you want discovering yourself in some rathole on the other side of the country, but when you’re finished, you know where to find me. And give me a call when you do so you can pick up my dry cleaning.”

The call ends then. But she isn’t certain if it’s because he hung up or not because it’s at that moment that her spellbook bursts into purple flames before collapsing into a pile of ash. She takes in a shaky breath, pushing her hair out of her face as tears begin to streak down her cheeks.

The trees surrounding her have begun to gray and droop when a familiar voice suddenly says, “Tombs, there is a statue out here that looks just like….Hey”. He trails off once he gets a good look at her, his eyes softening as he rushes over to her. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Are you possessed? Can necromancers be possessed?”

“No”, she lets out between sobs. She sniffles, tears streaking freely down her face as her shoulders begin to tremble. “I just…I burnt my book.”

Beau takes a step forward, his voice gentle as he brings a hand to awkwardly pat her back. “Hey, it’s okay.” He bites his lower lip, seemingly hopelessly lost whilst he grapples for words. “Do you…do you know any spells to bring it back? I know it’s not alive but-”

“It wouldn’t matter if it was.” She lowers to the floor, her eyes damp when she draws her legs close to her chest as she shakes her head at herself. “It wasn’t my book.”

After a moment’s uncertainty, Beau lowers beside her to the floor, hands coming to rest atop his knees before he says, “Was it Decay’s?” She turns a shocked glance his way, and he just shrugs. “That was him that called, wasn’t it?”

“It was. He wanted some clean clothes. After all this time, all I’m good for is a portal”, she admits after a moment, the bitterness in her voice gradually softening as she lets out a sigh. “I came here to get away from him, a-a clean break, you know.”

Beau’s voice is gentle yet curious when he asks, “So why’d you answer?”

“...I don’t know. I guess a part of me was hoping he’d be back to his old self, to the way he was when he first met.” She frowns, annoyed by the longing that digs a pit out of her stomach. “He’s changed a lot in five years.”

A heavy silence settles between them before Beau clears his throat, not quite meeting her eyes when he next speaks. “Has he changed? I’ve never met the man, but I know people that have. And from the way you all describe him, he sounds the same way he always has.”

“Maybe”, Mara cedes with a lopsided smile. “I always thought that deep down, beneath all that ugliness, there was a nice person bursting just waiting to be set free.”

Beau rises abruptly to his feet, hydrangeas blooming where he’d once sat. He lets out a huff, his voice sharper than it’s been in a while he scoffs, “Well, of course you think that, you’re in love with the man”.

“...I’m not in love with him.” When Beau turns a doubtful stare back her way, she bites her lower lip, her shoulders falling at the sight of the hydrangeas withering away at their proximity to her. She rises to her feet as well, then wraps her arms around herself, as if they alone could shield the world from her own ugliness. “I mean, I was. For a long time, I was.” She smiles, and it doesn’t quite match her eyes. “Guess I just needed reminding.”

The silence is heavier than before. Beau lets it linger for a moment before he draws closer to her. She doesn’t meet his eyes, content to stare at the struggling hydrangeas between them. A quiet sigh escapes Beau. “Do you want to go back?”

“...No”, Mara says after a moment, and she means it. At long last, she looks up at him just in time to see the relief in his eyes before he quickly averts his stare. “No, I-I wanna stay. If you want. I mean, I doubt I’ll be much use without Decay’s spellbook.”

Beau just grunts before responding, “The book may’ve come from him, but the spells are all yours”. At the frown she makes, he scoffs and brings his hands to rest upon his hips. “You think I could do those spells? Or Decay? Or anyone for that matter? You don’t need him or the spellbook, Tombs. Hell, it sounds like he needs you more than you need him.”

“...You can really be sweet sometimes.” She smiles, and it feels stronger than before. “You know that, right?”

That same beautiful blush she’s grown accustomed to seeing climbs back to his cheeks. He lets out a strangled noise, then looks away, only to then glower at the hydrangeas that’ve pulled themselves free of the ground and begun dancing about Mara in a circle. Whilst she just laughs in amusement, he huffs in annoyance. “I am not sweet. You just have really low standards is all.”

“Well, then I’m in good company”, she remarks with a mischievous grin.

He just rolls his eyes, his eyes gentle once more when he says, “We should get home before your mutt eats all the furniture”.

Mara just nods and settles in for the walk back, pondering for just a moment when she began to think of it as home. She bids Beau good night before she ventures back to her room, where she is almost immediately tackled by Jefferson.

“Hey, pal.” She scratches him fondly behind the ears, a warm smile upon her face before she turns to the mirror in the corner. She glances at Beau’s cape and hums to herself. She really does need to give it back to him. She reaches for her spellbook, only to falter at its absence. Jefferson tilts his head to the side, a sad whine escaping him. The smile that she gives him takes less effort than she thought it would. “I got a little overheated. But it’s okay. Believe it or not, I think this could…actually be a good thing.”

With that, she takes in a quiet breath. Her eyes glow a bright lavender as she draws two circles out of the air. “From the East to the West, I need a call to the stylist that is the best: Gossamer.” A thin line of lavender extends from her, stretching out the window. It remains still, lifeless until it suddenly twangs, blue stretching across the string until it pauses just before Mara.

“Ms. Tombstone”, Gossamer says as his image blooms before her. “I’m happy to’ve caught you. I’m almost finished designing your new cloak, it should be ready to go into production soon.” 

Mara just smiles before saying, “Oh, good. Well, I was just thinking…We talked about changing the color, didn’t we?”

“We did.” He’s silent for a moment, his eyes hesitant. “But I have to say, I don’t think blue is quite your color. And I know I said green and purple go well together, but I designed Bramble’s cloak with him in mind.”

Mara just nods. “I know, that was just temporary. I like the cloak and…and I like being his partner, but I need something that’s…that’s me.”

Gossamer just nods, then says, “I think I understand”. His smile widens then. “Did you have anything in particular in mind?”

“Yeah”, she says with a soft sigh. “Yeah, actually, I did.”