Crystalline Solitude

Clumps of soil and fallen leaves cling to Jackal’s boots as she shoves her way through the trees, over shrubs and vines that cling to the other plants like needy lovers. The more crowded parts of Burrowgatory were far behind her now, and thank fuck for that. A familiar anger curls low and hateful in her stomach, and her fingernails dig harshly into a fallen tree trunk as she vaults over it. Her fingertips are reddened when she examines them, dots of blood beading along her left ring finger’s nail where it had been partially torn out. Jackal rolls her eyes, and shakes them out, brushing bits of bark and dirt off on her shorts. That’s gonna be a problem for future Jackal. 

A sigh gusts out of her as the ground begins to slope gently down, tongue pressing at the back of her front teeth. Won’t be long now. 

Her feet find a familiar path, cleared out not with harsh machines but with the gentleness of frequent footsteps. Jackal’s pace quickens just a bit, no longer forced to pick her way through undergrowth as she had been before. Her green eyes find a few familiar things amid the dirt of the path— a cigarette half-crushed by a boot, an empty beer bottle, an old blunt, an old eyeliner pencil. All of them were heavy under Jackal’s gaze with the weight of old memories, and a faint smile glimmers along her lips.

There wouldn’t be other envy buns here today, but that’s fine. The mere thought of someone talking right now makes irritation prickle along the back of her neck and the edge of her lower jaw, demanding she tell the imagined bun to fuck the hell off. 

Yeah. She probably needs to be alone today.

Jackal rolls her shoulders back, trying to loosen the tension gathering there, as the forest begins to narrow into something more akin to a moss-covered tunnel. Her long legs move more quickly now, until she’s running, wind blowing through her dark hair and piercings jingling like little windchimes. Her feet dig up clumps of soil and fling it into the air behind her, arms pumping at her sides and heart hammering against the inside of her ribcage. A laugh escapes her throat, low and rasping, and the wind carries it away like a secret. Chest heaving, she skids to a stop just before she hits the wall at the end of the tunnel. Jackal gasps for breath, and wonders why, exactly, she decided running was a good idea in combat boots. 

Her ragged breaths even out into something calmer, and she straightens up, examining the wall dripping with lichen and moss in front of her. 

Or “wall”, rather. A grin works its way onto her face as she reaches through the tendrils of plant matter, and finds the edge of the rock she’d moved in the way of the tunnel. Jackal plants her feet into the soft dirt, and with a few grunts of effort she manages to roll it to the side, revealing that the tunnel continues through the curtains of moss. 

“Fucking finally,” she mumbles, careful to ignore the mess she’s likely made of her hands at this point. That one finger throbs occasionally, in time to the beat of her heart, and that’s as good a reminder it exists as any. Brushing the plants aside like a beaded curtain, she steps through the gap and into her favorite place in Burrowgatory. 

Jackal stands at the shore of an underground lake, lit in shades of cyan and aquamarine by clusters of glowing crystals, dripping from the ceiling like stalactites. She takes a second to breathe in the cold, wet air that sticks to her skin and fur in beads of condensation. Demons below, she’d missed coming here. She picks her way down to the water’s edge, and sits down with a groan and a crunch of gravel. Despite the crystalline glow, the other side of the lake is so far away that it disappears into darkness. She knows this place up and down, though— the other side of the lake consists of a cave system made from the water lapping at the walls. She and the rest of the envy squad have explored those tunnels thoroughly, and they’ve still yet to see all of them. 

Jackal likes that about this place— that there always seems to be something new and unexplored to find. Like an adventure every time she bothered with the long walk to get here. She smiles to herself, and watches the way the glowing lights above dance on the water’s surface.

Below the surface is… eerie, is perhaps the best way to put it. The last time they’d decided to all go diving down together (and remembered to bring their flashlights), it was like nothing she’d seen before. Pale fish flitting between the rocks like frostbitten shadows, clusters of the same glowing crystals as the ceiling, strange plants that grow and twist into patterns like fingers or teeth. 

Jackal kicks off her boots, but doesn’t do much aside from that, content to laze about at the lakeside for the time being. Eventually, she’ll go somewhere with better signal and call up some of the other envies, maybe do another dive or explore the cave system some more. 

But for now, she breathes in the quiet, and breathes out the dust and smoke of the inner city.