Archive of Our Own ^beta

They don't get a lot of visitors to Hazakura Temple. Those who do come are usually spirit mediums with a prearranged reservation and spiritual plan, or the man who delivers their groceries bi-weekly.

There isn't a reservation for another month, and the grocers came half a week ago, bringing round their order - meats and vegetable and rice, unchanged for longer than Iris has even been alive - to full.

Therefore, when Sister Bikini mentions, "There's someone outside, near the bridge," Iris sets down her knitting and says, in barely restrained excitement, "I'll go greet them."

Iris doesn't talk to people. Well, she talks to Sister Bikini, and she talks to the visiting mediums, and she talks to the grocer, but other than that. She doesn't talk to regular people, she means. Even the grocer is a bit odd; you'd have to be to trudge groceries up the mountains twice a month.

That doesn't mean she doesn't want to try, however. The last real, regular people she spoke meaningfully with were Valerie and... And that's been a while. She's nineteen. She loves Sister Bikini, she loves Hazakura, but there's a sense of restlessness in her that's started to grow, and that she hasn't been able to shake.

A stranger - and an actual stranger, mystery, how exciting - is perfect practice.

Iris practically runs her way down to the mouth of the temple, and further down the slope until she's at the entrance to the suspension bridge across the river, the inner temple just on the other side. Offhandedly, she rubs at the stone proclaiming it 'Dusky Bridge' with the cloth of her sleeve. She can't remember why she started doing it, but it's a habit now, for good luck.

Just like Sister Bikini said, there's someone out there. Standing a couple of feet down on the actual bridge, leaning over carelessly, is a girl. She's got red hair pulled up into a ponytail, and she's wearing a long white dress, albeit one covered up by a ratty gray jacket. Slung around her shoulder and dangling freely is a bag - almost a messengers bag, but it seems shaped a little oddly for that.

"You shouldn't lean like that," she calls, pitching her voice up enough that it can be heard over the wind and water. "Those barriers are just rope. You might go straight over, into the river."

Iris approaches cautiously, one hand wrapped around herself to trap warm in, the other loosely holding the rope. When she gets close enough, the girl replies, "Oh no, not the river. I don't see how anyone would survive a fall of that height."

Her tone is flat, and her words are caustic, but her voice shakes when she says them. She shakes too, shivering in the cold. Standing above a body of water probably isn't helping anything.

It takes all Iris has to keep her footing and not reel back from shock at that voice. The girl glances over at her, exhaustion radiating from her. The haunted look in her eyes is unnatural, especially on someone with as delicate features as Dahlia Hawthorne.

It's understandable that she didn't recognize her at first - it's been five years, after all, and her hair, it's red - but up close, it's hard not to see the similarities in her twin sister.

"D-Dahlia." Iris clasps her hands together in front of her mouth. "You... What are you doing here?"

"Disappointed to see me?" The other girl leans back a little, mouth pursed in displeasure. "I sure am."

"No! No, nothing like that, I'm just.. surprised. You look different. Good," she corrects. "You look good." She does. Her ponytail is coming apart, and she's got circles under her eyes, but she's grown up to be even prettier than she was at fourteen. Even here, in the cold that still makes Iris' skin go dry, she glows. Her dark eyes sparkle under her eyelashes. She's taller than Iris, too, which makes her want to pout.

Dahlia laughs. "Like this? Yeah, I'm sure. All the boys go crazy for sickly waifs."

"What are you doing here?" She asks again, as an actual question rather than a reaction, and her sister shrugs, playing with one of her hoodie strings.

"I missed you."

She says it so easily that it makes Iris' heart stutter, but she sighs sadly. "No, you didn't." She and Dahlia have never had the twin connection that Hollywood always praises. The sound of Dahlia, telling her, matter-of-factly, the morning after the kidnapping, that she no longer loved her, overwrought any 'shared language' they possessed, if it even existed in the first place.

Despite this, and the gap between meetings, Iris still knows what lying looks like on her face. The only lies she tells are that dinner is good even when she's gotten tired of meat and potatoes, but all the same.

Dahlia's face falls into morose neutrality. "Am I not allowed to miss you?"

Like always, she acquiesces. "I m-mean... I'm sure you missed me, but I don't think that's the main reason you're here. Please, why are you here? It's cold out, and your jacket doesn't look very thick."

Dahlia stares at her hand for a little while, wrapped around the rope guard. Not for the first time, Iris considers the height from the river and the courage it must have taken to jump.

"I need a place to stay," Dahlia admits, pained. "You're all I have left."

The latter statement is saccharine, designed to tug on Iris' heartstrings, and tug they do. Still, the first part reveals a lot.

"What happened?"

"You remember Valerie?" Of course, she does. They haven't spoken in five years - the relationship between her and her half-sister is even flimsier than their twin bond - but she still remembers her. "She's dead now."

Iris stops, surprised. "Oh. I didn't know."

"Really? Don't you get newspapers up here?"

"Um, we used to get magazines? But they were an unnecessary expense..."

"Hm. Well, she is. And Fawles, the lecher." Dahlia runs a hand through her ponytail restlessly. "They both are. Dead, I mean."

Terry Fawles. She remembers him too. She never met him, thankfully, but she remembers him from the horrible stories Dahlia and Valerie told her when they were explaining why they were putting the kidnapping plan into place.

She pauses for a second and then asks, "There were police out here a month ago, investigating a murder. They didn't bother with me or Sister Bikini when they figured out we didn't know anything, but-- Was that you?"

"Yeah." Dahlia's hands tighten around the rope. "You have a problem with that?"

She shrugs one shoulder, letting it wash over her. More murder. Should she be surprised, though? None of them expected to get away with it at all, or for as long as they did. Five years is pretty good.

"That was a month ago. Where have you been staying, before this?"

Dahlia's expression closes off further at her non-answer, but she still replies, "Valerie's. It's where I've lived for five years, at this point. Where else? But, continuing to stay there..." She breathes out harshly, through clenched teeth. "I'm looking for housing on my university's campus, but it's taking forever. It makes me sick, to have to stay in the home of someone who fucked me over like that. I don't know. I just can't, anymore."

"Then..." Iris looks over at her. "Then, what are you doing here? I'm glad you're here, but the last time we spoke, it wasn't exactly on good terms either."

Dahlia's quiet for a moment, and she can feel her quiver through the rope. "You both betrayed me. But it's different with her. You're an idiot. It's half my fault for expecting you to understand how badly I needed to get out of that house, especially since you weren't there to see for yourself. Besides, you just ran away. But with her--"

She snarls the last word, and then stops, burying her face in her hand.

Iris doesn't say anything, just stares out into the icy waters. She knows Dahlia doesn't want her pity - that's never what she's wanted; it boggles Iris' mind to think others can't see how strong she is - but she can't help the protective feeling that wells up in her anyways.

Dahlia continues as if she's breathing fire, "She said she'd help me deal with that creep, and then she-- She, what? Thinks that a couple of years will have changed his heart? If anything, the pathetic way he went out proved him to be the same disgusting pervert I remember. No, in comparison to her, you're almost blameless."

Almost, she notes. Not completely blameless, almost blameless.

"I'm glad they're dead," Iris finally offers, and her sister glances over at her, surprised.

"You're a terrible liar," she shoots back, but she looks confused, as if not entirely convinced of what she's saying.

Iris shakes her head. "I'm not lying. I mean it. They were hurting you. I'm glad they're dead."

"Please. Someone like you? I bet you'll call the cops the second you've won me over, sob all over the phone about some demon on your doorstep."

"If you believe that, then why would you bother telling me anything? Why even bother coming here?"

Dahlia freezes and stares at the boards under their feet. "You're just so..." Innocent? Sweet? Easy to bend? Maybe.

"I didn't run all those years ago because of morality," she starts. She has to explain now, before Dahlia leaves again. It may be the last chance she ever has to apologize. "I was just scared. I was so scared that you'd get hurt, that I refused to face it, and I abandoned you. I've regretted it every day since then. I'd be angry with me too. I'm not a good person, Dahlia. I don't care that you killed them. The only thing I'm concerned with now is making sure that you're happy. I can't bear to abandon you again."

Iris grabs her sister's hand. She's different now. She's worse. They both have sins on their souls, but Iris' have no justification. For so long, all they had was each other. Even after they were separated, Dahlia asked for help, and Iris just left her to the wolves.

She was supposed to be there, to pull Dahlia out of the river, but she wasn't. She wasn't, so Dahlia had to leave behind the backpack and the diamond, just so she'd be light enough to pull herself to shore. She climbed up the path to Hazakura Temple, dripping wet, and when Iris ran to greet her, her expression was frozen over.

"Let me try again," she pleads. "Whatever you want me to do to make up for my betrayal, I'll do. Stay here, for however long you need. Just... please."

Dahlia lets her hold her hand, but says venomously, "I don't want sympathy."

"Then don't think of it as me helping you! You came here for a reason, right? So, use me!"

She pauses, and then a small smile spreads across her face, impressed. For just a moment, Iris catches her soften as she stares at their laced fingers, and then it's back to solidity.

"Okay, you want to make it up to me. Then... Then, I want a room here. Just for a little bit. Show me the way."

Iris nods again, squeezing her hands, and leads her off the bridge. "Did you bring anything with you?"

"The clothes that I'm wearing. My camera bag, which has cash in. That's it, really. Everything else is at Valerie's. You'll give me anything else I need, though, yeah?"

"Of course! Anything you want."

"For how long?"

Iris feels warm, even as she trudges through the light snow. Maybe, she can make up for her mistakes. Maybe, her sister will rely on her again. Maybe, she'll be worth something once more. "As long as you're alive--" she laughs, inordinately pleased at her own joke, "--and then some."