Chapter Text
It is a random day in early autumn when Simon feels a small finger jam hard into his wrist and a familiar young voice asks, “What’s that?”
Somewhere in the distance, a train horn faintly blares. Simon looks down at the dark, inky letters peeking out beyond the edge of his sleeve; then he huffs, grumbling, and lifts his arm over the desk to shake the sleeve back to its full length. “My soulmate’s message from this morning.”
Athena’s eyes grow wide and buggy. He doesn’t need to turn and see her to know that stars have burst into her bright blues. “Your soulmate?” she whispers. “You have a soulmate?”
“Regrettably.”
“Re—“ Athena huffs and puffs both of her cheeks out round. Her hands fist in his sleeve and she tugs. Simon lets her shift his weight from side-to-side, lolling loosely and doll-like. “Regrettably? Why? Mom loves her soulmate!”
“What your mother and my sister have is special. Not all of us are so blessed to have such a bond.”
Athena frowns. She makes a pathetic whine deep in her throat and throws herself forward against Simon’s arm, her arms twiggish zombie-like and long as they stretch over his lap. “But you’re supposed to love your soulmate.”
“It’s not always that simple, Athena.”
“Don’t you?”
“Don’t I what?”
“Love your soulmate?”
Simon rolls his eyes, and she continues: “I can hear it, you know. In your heart. It says that you want to act unaffected because your soulmate frustrates you, but you really are fond of them. They’re not like anyone else you know.”
Simons stares at her with a gaze that is hard to read from under his thick fringe. A frown angles across his sharp face. He turns back to his case files spread across his desk. The harsh lighting of the space center often strains his eyes, but he at least is able to focus better here than at the Prosecutor’s Office. He sighs. “That does not mean what I feel right now is love, Athena. It’s complicated.”
“What is?”
Simon sighs again and with more weight than before. But he smiles at her in one of his secret-Simon ways that he often reserves for Athena and Athena alone, so Athena knows he is never angry with her—despite all of her persistent curiosity. “I suppose I can’t fully expect you to understand. You have always been astute in ways others aren’t, but to the rest of us who do not have your hearing, emotions are… complicated. Love takes time. And I don’t know if I can say I love my soulmate yet when I haven’t met them face-to-face. They live far, far away from here. In all likelihood, we may, in fact, never get the chance to meet at all.”
“That’s sad.”
“I suppose so.”
“You feel sad about it.”
Simon hums but does not deny that. “Like I said: it’s complicated.”
Athena’s eyes wander down to his sleeve again. Suddenly, she grins and giggles, and when Simon raises an eyebrow at her, she says, “I wonder who my soulmate is.”
Simon blanches. “You’d do best to stave off that curiosity. You aren’t allowed to write to them until you are sixteen.”
“Yeah, but I wanna know now. Don’t you think my soulmate wants to know who I am, too? As soon as possible?” Athena folds her fingers together behind her back and rocks her weight. “Don’t you think that’d give us the most time possible to fall in love like Mom and Ms. Aura?”
“You have the very unique skill of somehow always making me regret opening my mouth.”
Athena grins. Without warning, she launches herself at Simon’s waist and wraps her arms around his middle. She squeezes him as tight as she can. “You like me, though.”
The corner of Simon’s mouth quirks upward. Slowly, he sets a hand on her back. “Regrettably.”
After having such a conversation with the young and impressionable Athena Cykes, Simon supposes he shouldn’t be surprised when Metis comes to him the next day, pale and wringing her hands because she can’t find Athena. He supposes he should have foreseen—Athena is such a lonely girl with only that sweet and meek Juniper as someone to call a friend—that Athena would be desperate to reach out in the hopes of connecting with someone else, potentially someone new, in a way that isn’t overwhelming to her sensitive ears.
Of course he finds Athena hiding in the closet underneath the stairs of the museum.
Of course he finds several glitter body pens scattered around her on the floor.
Of course he finds her crying with big tears streaming down her cheeks.
Of course he finds her and she says, with both arms extended in front of herself, covered in writing scribbled all the way up to her shoulders: “I don’t have a soulmate!”
Of course it must be this: to call and call and call and get no answer.
Simon holds her.
He tells her all sorts of things that are true: “It’s not the end of the world; many people don’t have soulmates and live perfectly happy and fulfilling lives—better, even, than the ones who do,” and, “If you do have one, perhaps your soulmate is busy. Or perhaps they want to follow the rules and wait until you are sixteen to answer. There is a reason for the wait, Athena, and it is not a bad thing.”
Athena nods into his shoulder. She hiccups and sobs. Simon rubs her back until she calms down. When at last she is ready, they pick up the scattered glitter body pens and hand-in-hand, take the long trek back through the museum to return to her mother.
Pearl Fey tells herself it is silly to flinch at her mother’s cold hands as they yank off her purple robe. She stands very still and does not move as her mother lifts her hand and slowly turns her arm right and left. It is hard to look at her mother’s face when she’s wearing such a dark and heavy scowl.
“What kind of joke is this,” Morgan rumbles. Her eyes snap to Pearl. Pearl fights the urge to jump. “Did you write this?”
Very quickly and very immediately, Pearl shakes her head. She doesn’t know why her mother asks. It’s not like she has ever been taught how to read well, let alone write.
Her mother’s scowl lessens in the same, pretty way that sunshine peeks in through the clouds on rainy days. “So this must be the work of this ‘soulmate’ of yours, then. Either they are impatient or grossly too old for you. Though judging by the handwriting…” Morgan makes a tut-tut sound. When she reaches for Pearl’s other arm, Pearl lifts it obediently, helpfully, eyes locked on her mother’s face.
“W-what should I do?”
Morgan gentles. Her eyes settle on Pearl’s face and with a sweet smile, she cups her cheeks. “Oh, my darling, my treasure, there’s nothing to do. We’ll just ignore it.”
“Ignore it?” Pearl’s eyebrows bend together.
“Of course. You don’t have time for such silly, inane things like soulmates. We have to serve the head of the family, after all.”
Pearl’s eyes light up. “That’s right!”
“And you wouldn’t want to be distracted from helping Mystic Maya, would you?”
Pearl shakes her head again, hard and fast. “Mystic Maya comes first!”
Her mother’s hand, when it falls onto the top of her head, is comforting. Affirming. Pearl smiles up at Morgan the same instant her mother hums, “Best to forget about this whole business with soulmates then, my Pearl. Sometimes the best thing we can do is nothing at all. Remember what I told you about Mystic Mia, as well.”
Ah yes. And Pearl has heard about the stories of Mystic Mia and her soulmates enough to know how tragic it is: what happened to her.
“Soulmates will only distract you from your true duty and purpose. Pay them no mind. Understood?”
“Yes, Mother.”
Pearl is nine when the bridge burns and she’s stuck on one side of Eagle River while Mystic Maya and Mr. Nick nearly die. She is nine when she begins to understand that her mother may not be as kind of a person as she always believed she was. She is nine when Mystic Maya becomes her legal guardian, and she is nine when she realizes how important it is to her that she sees her cousin happy.
She had always thought that was Mr. Nick’s responsibility, despite how the two denied it. She didn’t know how they could be so certain they weren’t soulmates when Maya could have never even tried to know. Then Mr. Nick shows her his arm and the lingering writing so similar to Mr. Eh-ji-worth’s, and she understands.
“You didn’t tell me you were never allowed to write to your soulmate growing up, though,” Mr. Nick says as he shakes back out the sleeve of his button-up.
Mystic Maya twirls around on the heels of her feet and shrugs.
And Mr. Nick’s eyes, when they look at her cousin, make Pearl think he must understand Mystic Maya in ways that even soulmates never do.
“What do you think, Pearly?” Maya asks one night when it’s just them and the hearthplace at Hazakura Temple. The fire keeps their toes from being bitten by the winter chill. It’s been nearly a year since Maya’s attempted murder and the subsequent death of her mother. Mr. Nick has lost his badge and gained a daughter in that span of time, too, and all around them, there is so much change and so much hurt going on at once; Pearl wonders if they’ll ever be free of it.
Sometimes she wonders if that’s why Maya keeps coming back here, to this place of horrible memories: like if she gets closure, she can finally free herself of the pain it still causes her.
“What do I think about what?”
“About soulmates.” Maya’s face is hard to read as she stares into the fire. “Do you think I should write to mine? Do you think I should try?”
“Yes!” Pearl says without missing a beat. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
Maya turns to her, eyebrows lifted. “Wow. That was quick.”
“You deserve to be happy, Mystic Maya!” Pearl doesn’t know if Maya knows how much that is true, and suddenly, the possibility that she doesn’t is so very, very distressing. She fists both of her hands in the blanket over Maya’s lap and leans in. Maya leans back. “You deserve the chance to be loved like in all the movies! It’s what I’ve always wanted for you.”
Maya’s face flushes bright red. Redder than Pearl has ever seen her turn. “R-really? Aw, gee… I don’t know if I’m that romantic, Pearly. Not like you are.”
Pearl can’t understand how or why she isn’t. “But it’s why I always…” She drifts off. Looks away. She turns back when she thinks she’s ready and has taken a breath to steel herself. “You should write to them, Mystic Maya. You should write to them right now.”
“I—m-maybe. Give me some time to think about it, okay? This is kind of a big deal.”
Pearl nods. She forces herself to let go of Maya’s sleeve.
But she can’t help but think to herself as she sneaks glances at her cousin throughout the rest of the night that if anyone in the world deserved to be as happy as was humanly allowed possible, it was Maya.
So the day, a few years later, when Maya closes the sliding front door of Fey Manor behind herself and leans back against it with a dreamy sigh, Pearl thinks she’s the happiest she’s ever been. Ms. Franziska von Karma may be a scary lady, but she has never been mean. Pearl supposes she can approve of her and how she takes care of her cousin, and the way her icy, frigid exterior melts whenever she’s around Maya Fey.
The day Iris is finally permitted out on parole, Pearl isn’t sure where their relationship is supposed to go. Visiting her with Maya was one thing; meeting her sister for the first time as her sister was another. And now, when Iris is no longer just an unfamiliar-familiar relative on the other side of the glass but in person and kind and shy and available for head pats and hugging—this is something entirely different.
Iris stays with Pearl and Maya in Kurain upon her immediate release. Not for forever, she says, but just for a little bit.
Those first few days they share the same space in the same house are awkward and stifled, but Pearl and Iris try very hard to be able to build something similar to the sisterhood they think they were always supposed to have. They take hikes together through the mountainside. They cook dinner. They watch television shows—mostly the Steel Samurai, though Iris eventually favors the Jammin’ Ninja. And when Iris finally learns that Pearl is still learning how to read and write from Mystic Maya and Mr. Nick, she decides perhaps that’s a journey she can help fulfill.
They read stories together—which is always fun because Iris always reads with the funny voices—and that time spent curled into Iris’s side, listening to the tales read by candlelight with the window open so they can hear the crickets and the wind through the leaves, is precisely when it finally hits Pearl: she has a sister. She has a sister. She has someone she can learn from, like Mystic Mia was to Mystic Maya. She has one of those.
And nonetheless, it’s a sister who could and wants to love her very much.
She asks Iris one day about her soulmate. If she has one. If she writes to them at all.
Iris blinks and considers it. She curls a hand at her chin as she does whenever she’s thinking very deeply about something she doesn’t want to talk about. Nearly immediately, Pearl tries to take it back.
“Oh! I’m sorry!” she says and waves her hands. “You don’t have to tell me about it if it makes you uncomfortable!”
Iris blinks at Pearl. Her hand falls away from her chin. “What? No. I’m not bothered you asked. I’m just… trying to think of what I should say.” She looks away and to the trail underneath their feet. “Because you see, the truth is, I don’t think I have a soulmate.”
“You don’t?”
“I don’t. I don’t know if Dahlia did; she never told me. But as for myself…” One hand lifts up the sleeve of her robe to expose her arm to the autumn wind. “I have never had someone else’s words appear on my skin.”
“Not even Mr. Nick’s?”
Iris smiles at Pearl, soft and small. She drops her sleeve and clasps her hands together behind her back. “You don’t need to be soulmates to fall in love with someone. Feenie and I—” She stops, catches herself for a moment, then continues, “Well. At the time, we had something special. As you now know, I didn’t have a soulmate; Feenie struggled to connect with his. Even if our relationship started because of Dahlia, we genuinely believed our circumstances made us perfect for each other. Until… we weren’t. Of course.”
Pearl looks ahead as they walk. “Do you think you’ll try to find a special someone again?”
Iris smiles and shrugs. “I’m not sure. I think the only thing I am certain of is that finding someone else isn’t my priority right now.” She pauses. Then, she puts a hand on her cheek. “As strange and selfish as that is to say out loud…”
“I don’t think it sounds selfish.”
Iris’s smile widens. Her face pleasantly pinkens. “Well, thank you.”
Pearl clasps her hands together behind her back and walks with a spring in her step. “In a sense, it’s because you are your current pry-ore-itty, right? And I think that’s nice! Maybe that means that after all this time, your special someone is yourself!”
Iris stops walking.
Pearl turns back around and looks up at her. “Mystic Iris?”
“And that… isn’t selfish?”
Pearl blinks at her. Before she can say a word, Iris is smiling. Really smiling. Smiling big and wide and beautifully, with her hands folded in front of her chest, right over her heart. “Thank you, Mystic Pearl. That means a lot to hear.”
And Pearl isn’t quite sure what she said that made Iris so happy, but she nods back and is glad to have said it.
It’s on a random Saturday night in the midst of studying for an upcoming, extremely important exam for a college class that Athena—for the first time in her life—finally feels that itch along her arm that means ink is being written into her skin.
She knocks her textbook off her desk.
Her hand hits her cup of pens and pencils in her process of trying to catch said textbook before it hits the floor, which then knocks her desk-lamp to a wrong angle so the light hits her bed instead of her desk. The bedroom window reflects the ray and Athena squawks, ducking away as she cradles her toes that the spine of her textbook landed on.
A few mad scrambling seconds later, she has the lamplight aimed at her arm and the sleeve of her hoodie pushed up to her shoulder.
Hello is written in gorgeous, sweeping, cursive font. It is small and elegant, gleaming up at her along the inside of her forearm where her skin is most sensitive and most smooth. And then it hits her, perhaps a little belatedly, a little deliriously: I have a soulmate.
Then, louder: I HAVE A SOULMATE.
Athena looks down at the pens scattered across the floor like marbles and swears colorfully. None of those are body pens. Does she even have body pens anymore? She doesn’t know if she has any these days. Even though she turned sixteen earlier this year, she can’t say she’s put much hope in believing her soulmate would ever want to hear from her, if she even had one. There had been no correspondence, no answer for years. But now—now—
A trip down the hall to her second-cousin-twice-removed’s bathroom, and Athena grabs a body pen from a cluttered, unorganized drawer full of them.
As soon as she’s back in her rolling chair, she spins around and writes on her arm:
omg hi!! omg hi it’s so good to hear from u!
Athena holds her breath.
When she feels another itch, she watches with wide, wide eyes as more words curl into sight: You too! This is kind of scary. A pause, and then: And exciting! Both scary and exciting. I wasn’t sure what to think when my cousin told me she was going to force me to write to you, but I’m glad she did. You’re real.
Athena’s heart clenches hard.
“This feels so weird,” she whispers because isn’t she the one who’s supposed to be surprised her soulmate is real? That her soulmate exists and is responding back to her? That they’re actually talking? She grabs her pen and writes: i could say the same to u. about u. She pauses. is that weird?
What? No! No. I’m afraid the weirdness is all my fault. I’m sorry I never wrote back after all these years.
no, no, it’s ok! i’m sure u have ur reasons
Well, yes, but. I’m now officially 16. I guess in the eyes of everyone else, that changes things.
Athena pauses. She doesn’t think she can turn her arm any further to use any of her skin on the other side. That might be difficult for her soulmate to see anyway, so she changes direction. She rolls back the sleeve of her other arm and keeps the text smaller this time. Easier to squeeze more onto its surface. Her tongue peeks out of the corner of her mouth. 16 huh? i’m 16 too. just turned 16 earlier this year in fact.
Oh! Happy Birthday!
haha thx! that was in march, tho. so it’s been a bit.
The conversation lulls. It’s sad to feel it lull, and sad to feel it hit a rough point. Athena was hoping to say so much more; she’s always had so much burning off the tip of her tongue: everything that she’s ever wanted to tell her soulmate. Everything that’s been building up for eight years. And now that she’s talking to her soulmate, she can’t think of a single one. did u have a good bday at least?
Oh yes! It was very fun. My cousin got me my favorite pizza and ice cream.
sweet! Athena giggles to herself and adds: literally
Oh! You’re right! That’s funny!
For a moment, Athena is smiling too widely, she has to hold her hands over her face. She has to take a breath. She has to slow her heart.
A second later, she’s screaming into her palms and kicking out her legs into the space underneath her desk because she can’t believe it. She can’t believe it! Her soulmate is real! Her soulmate is writing to her!
And her soulmate has the prettiest handwriting Athena has ever seen.
u write very pretty btw
Thank you! I think it’s very fun to write. My sister’s a writer, now.
Shit. And that’s personal information, right there. That’s an insight into her soulmate’s family; it’s like they’re having a normal conversation. They’re actually talking about things. And if it’s so normal, if it’s so mundane, if everyone does this, then why does it feel so momentous? Why does Athena feel like fireworks are bursting inside of her chest? rly? omg she’s like an actual author?
Athena reads back her words to herself and groans. Her chin drops to her collar. “That was a dumb question.”
Her arm itches.
Yes! She’s published only two books so far, but I know she’s working on more. She’s very talented.
that’s so cool. Athena frowns, considers what she wants to say next, then asks: so u have a sister? is she ur only sister?
There’s a long, long pause.
Athena sits back. Her head spins. “Drat. Did I say the wrong thing? Is it too soon to ask that?” she murmurs, but before the words have finished leaving her mouth, her skin tingles low on her forearm. She’s beginning to run out of room again. Might need to start writing above her elbow.
Yes.
And then and all of a sudden, Athena’s enthusiasm for talking to her soulmate deflates. She wishes she could hear her soulmate’s voice for herself and pick apart what there is to hear. She can imagine the tone. She can imagine the discord that might be there. But only relying on text to communicate takes away something Athena hadn’t even realized she had been depending on all her life; something she had been taking for granted.
“I wish I could hear you,” she says and instead writes, if i ask something ur not comfortable talking about, plz tell me.
No, it’s okay! It’s just hard. She wasn’t always my only sister.
Oh.
Athena swallows hard. i’m sorry to hear that.
That’s kind of you. It was years ago, though, and I didn’t know either of them very well. There’s a short pause, and then: But that’s complicated. I’m sure you don’t want the entire long and sad story of my family’s history. It’s not very happy, and besides, I think it’d take my entire body to write out! I wouldn’t want to do that to you the first day we’re talking to each other.
Cherry red floods across Athena’s face. She pictures that—and then immediately stops picturing it because that’s too much; too much for day one—so she leans back into her seat, takes a breath, swallows hard, and pats her cheeks once, then twice. not that i don’t want to hear it but yeah! haha that sounds like something better told in person.
In person.
In person.
“Why don’t I have an undo button—”
I think you’re right. Maybe one day, if we ever get the chance to meet each other, that would be nice.
One day. Maybe one day.
Athena smiles to herself. yeah. i know we just met, but i think that sounds pretty nice, too, she writes and ends the line near her elbow. Then she sighs and leans back in her chair, setting her hand over her heart. She looks up at the ceiling. Her long hair dangles behind her to the floor.
“They’re real,” she murmurs, just to hear herself say it. “My soulmate is real.”
She wonders if she were to use the prototype of her Mood Matrix on herself, if she would be able to overload the system with joy.
Having a soulmate makes the years pass quickly.
They decide not to share names. As most people do, they divulge the specifics of personal information only vaguely. There’s less pressure for either of them to feel anything about their situation one way or another with less details to attach themselves to. Perhaps the hardest thing to hide and consequently, the easiest thing to discover, is that they are on opposite sides of the world from each other. The time difference takes some getting used to.
Knowing your soulmate’s name, however, is a big step neither feels ready for.
In the meantime, Athena’s soulmate helps keep her company when her all-nighter studying sessions cram long and her stress levels increase, while Athena helps talk her soulmate through the nebulous time that is high school and deciding what you want to do with your life.
it’s ok, Athena writes one night during a study break. i’ve been there. it’s hard stuff.
How did you know what you wanted to do?
Athena pauses, body pen lifted above her calf. She frowns and slowly, uncurls. She reaches up to tap at her earring. She has probably too much to say on that one. my situation’s kinda different. i don’t think i always knew what i wanted to do, but i’ve known for years that this is the right thing.
How did you decide?
honestly???? someone helped me. i was feeling sad and frustrated and scared and alone— “—okay, let’s not go too deep into that, Athena—” —and long story short, i was tired of feeling those things. i was tired of feeling useless. then i met someone who was everything i wanted to be and had successfully done all of the things i wanted to do. so i told myself, “if he can do it, i can do it, too!” and now i’m chasing that dream. that and he kind of gave me a job offer for whenever i finished my studies and passed my test.
That’s wonderful! I’m so glad you found someone like that!
Athena winces. She pokes her cheek with the end of her body pen, mouth scrunched in thought. Then she adds: yeah, but i can definitely see where, if i hadn’t met him, i’d prbly still have no hope. i wish there was someone like that for u to help u decide what u wanna do.
Well. Maybe there is, and I just need to find them. Who knows? Sometimes I think maybe I don’t want to force myself to suddenly ‘find a passion.’ I don’t think I’m in any rush to figure my life out when I don’t even know if I’ll go to college. If I’m honest, I don’t even know if I’ll ever leave my home. And it’s not like that’s a bad thing. I’m happy where I am. Really.
but u still wanna make the most of every opportunity u’ve got, yeah? i get that. there’s a poem like that, i think; says somethin like ‘gather ye rose-buds while ye may,’ or somethin else pretentious.
I think that sounds pretty.
haha. prbly doesn’t help tho.
Well, but talking to you at least has given me a lot of hope. Thanks for sharing that much with me.
Slowly, Athena lets her head fall into her hands. Her face is so, so strawberry red. When she finally lifts her face again, she shakily writes back: yeah. no problem-o.
On April 16, 2027, the international concourse of the Amsterdam Airport Schiphol is not as busy as Athena was preparing herself for. This is a good thing, in retrospect, as Athena finds herself antsy and unable to sit still, so she has plenty of room to jump out of her seat and finish some light stretches in front of the windows before she tries to sit down again. But then she’s too excited to be stationary, so she stands up again and resorts to jogging in place until her arm itches.
Good morning!
Athena smiles. Immediately, she dives for her duffel bag and fetches a bright blue body pen. She rolls up her sleeve. Foregoing her chair entirely, she crosses her legs underneath herself on the airport floor as she writes along her wrist: Goedenmiddag!!!
Haha! Hello to you too! I have no idea what that means.
good afternoon! it’s dutch.
Wow! I’m always amazed that you know so many languages. Are you in the Netherlands right now?
amsterdam, babey! i’m just rly excited. things are finally happening!
Oh, that’s right! Today is moving day!
yep!! i passed my test and i’m finally moving across the world!! and this time, hopefully it’ll be for the last time. Athena smiles and leans back. She turns her head to peer out the window and the late afternoon light as it recedes over the horizon. There is so much hope in her chest; so much fervor. So much go, go, go. So much energy. So much—so much—maybe too much? Or maybe that’s just all of the different emotions she can hear around her, a constant hubbub of undertones that she’s usually able to tune out fairly well.
Her soulmate writes: Do you feel comfortable with telling me where it is you’re moving to?
Oh.
Athena thinks for a second.
Overhead, the intercoms call for pre-boards. She unpretzels herself and throws her duffel over her shoulder. Athena doesn’t know why she’s hesitating; it’s not like last year she finally gave in and told her soulmate where she lived. What was different with telling her soulmate now where she was going to live from now on?
Athena lifts the pen to her arm as the boarding group before hers is called. yeah! sure! i’m moving to america. to LA! that’s where the job offer i got is.
Wait, are you serious? You’re moving to LA?
yeah? Athena hurriedly, distractedly, gets in line for the next group. Did she say something wrong? why?
Because I live very close to there! I live practically on the outskirts of LA!
Athena freezes.
We’ll be so close to each other, now!
And suddenly, the noise in her ears becomes a white-hot buzzing.