Page 20 of Do You Ship It

On Monday lunchtime, I find Anissa in our art classroom.

She’s wearing earphones, but her eyes flicker towards the door when I come in, and she brightens, smiling as she takes one out. ‘Hi.’

‘Hey.’ I head straight for her, my pre-planned speech forgotten when I notice what she’s working on. It’s a charcoal scene of a stormy coastline, and even though it’s not quite finished yet, it’s visceral . The rage of howling winds and lashing rain is so strong that it hits me like a punch in the gut.

‘Whoa. That’s … That’s …’

Anissa waits for my verdict, and a trickle of shame slides down my spine, making me squirm.

Art is a way for me to express my emotions, sometimes; an outlet, a way to help me process something I can’t quite put into words even to myself yet. Seeing the emotion Anissa’s poured into her drawing – and how pleasantly surprised she looked to see me just now …

I feel bad. I feel so, so terrible.

‘That’s really good,’ I manage at last, and she beams. Her smile makes her glow , like Jake’s does, but this time instead of making me want to smile back, I just want the ground to swallow me whole.

I don’t think I’ve ever been mean to Anissa. We’ve never talked enough for that, and certainly never spent enough time together for me to have actively shunned her or anything.

But I also realize in this moment that I’ve never been nice to her, either, and I’ve been as judgemental towards her over the years as Max has been to me since I first met him. We talk daily in Discord since I introduced her to it, and I enjoy those conversations; but I know that I haven’t been a good friend to her.

That’s also when I realize: Anissa is my friend.

Maybe she might have been all along, if I had ever given her a chance. Jake would’ve gotten on with her really well if they’d ever hung out at school, especially with their shared love for OWAR.

I think about how alone she always is – how lonely that must be. I wonder if anybody’s ever given her much of a chance.

Maybe I’d know these things, if I were a better friend.

Anissa doesn’t seem to be aware that I’m wildly psychoanalysing her, or feeling like a totally wretched excuse for a person, because she’s already leapt out of her chair to pull a canvas from the back of the room that she plops down on a table nearby before adding her sketchbook beside it.

‘I’m doing a storm series, for my nature-inspired pieces. So this one –’ she jerks her head behind her at the charcoal piece, already busy flipping through her sketchbook for the right pages – ‘is your miserable, moody, English countryside weather. And then this one’s obviously more tropical storm – I need to touch it up, I know, everything’s a bit half-finished right now … And then I thought I’d do more of a woodland theme one …’

The canvas painting is the total opposite of her angry charcoal: richly-coloured palm trees bending in the wind, the waves of the sea crashing into each other almost playfully, a messy sandcastle with a red bucket half-buried beside it. The woodland one is all vibrant wildflowers, petals heavy with raindrops, and evokes something calmer and gentler.

The guilt that’s taken root in my gut eases a little, realizing that not all her work is as angry and sad as the one in progress on the easel, and for a few minutes we lose ourselves talking about her plans for the different pieces and the feedback we’ve both had from our teacher so far, and the conversation flows as quickly and easily as it does in Discord, our voices overlapping occasionally like we can’t get the words out fast enough.

It’s such a contrast from her usual reserved self. Almost the whole of lunch break passes with neither of us making any progress on our art coursework, and instead talking non-stop.

It’s only when a text pings through from Jake, making me check my phone and notice the time, that I remember why I came here in the first place.

I say, ‘We’ll have to pack up, lunch is nearly over – and I cannot be late for media again. Anyway, I was looking for you before to see if you wanted to come to a house party this weekend.’

‘A party ?’ Anissa repeats, with such open disbelief written all over her face that it must be the first time she’s been invited to one.

I am a horrible, horrible person, and an even worse friend.

But my intentions aren’t … malicious. Are they? I’m not doing this to be nasty to anyone. I’m just …

Thinking ahead. Big picture. Trying to …

I swallow the lump in my throat and forge ahead. It’s too late now. I’ve mentioned the party, I’ve invited her , I can’t take that back.

‘Yeah. You know my friend Jake? Jake Wandsworth, from school. Well, he said some guy at his college is having a house party, and he said I could bring a friend along. So I just thought …’ I take a breath, Anissa’s wide, wide eyes and gaping mouth making me skirt as close to the truth as possible. ‘Because he’s an OWAR fan too, and his mate Max – the guy who does the Sir Grayson/Moonwalker cosplay, he’ll be there as well, so I thought maybe you’d … want to come? Hang out with them a bit? You could come and get ready at my house, and –’

Anissa’s eyes remain wide, but now there’s a gleam in them, and her open mouth splits into a broad smile. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Yeah. I mean … Yes. Why not? There’s going to be alcohol there, and no parents, and I have no idea what any of the Colleg Carreg lot are really like, but Jake wouldn’t be friends with anyone that horrible –’

Except moody, judgey Max …

‘And … And like I said, I thought maybe you’d get on alright with him. And Max.’

Very much and Max .

I am a bad friend.

Or a good one? Maybe they’ll hit it off. Maybe they’ll be besties right off the bat, and I’ll get Jake back, and we’ll all be mates and everyone will be happy.

And I really would like to spend time with Anissa. The party could be fun. Maybe around some new people and with some common ground, she’ll open up a bit and be more like she is in Discord, like she’s been this lunchtime. Bubbly and unfiltered and funny and engaging.

Is it really that bad if I’m also hoping she might take Max off my hands?

Anissa’s still quiet, so I carry on. ‘I don’t know if it’s exactly your scene, but – well, you could stay over mine as well after, if you wanted. My mum won’t mind. And if it’s that bad, we can just leave early and watch some episodes of OWAR. Or –’

‘Cerys,’ she interrupts. How long have I been rambling and babbling? It’s mostly down to guilt, but also I’ve never invited someone to a party and a sleepover before. This whole ‘making friends’ lark is a lot less straightforward when you can’t just match your outfit to theirs, and bump into them at a coffee shop before college.

God, imagine asking someone on a date . This is bad enough.

No amount of romcoms could prepare me for that.

So I shut up, and Anissa smiles at me like I’m the one who needs reassuring, and says, ‘That sounds awesome. I’d love to go.’

I breathe a sigh of relief, and promise to message her all the details later, and we can sort out timings for her coming round on Saturday.

This will be awesome. We’ll have fun hanging out, she’ll get on fine with Jake, I don’t doubt that she and Max will end up in some deep discussion about their favourite fan-theories, and while they’re keeping each other busy, me and Jake will have the perfect opportunity to grab some alone time.

The Plan is officially back on track.

So why do I feel like I’m doing everything wrong?

OWAR Discord #324

Fanfictions!

@mythicwitch

So … I did something

@thesebootsweremadeformoonwalking

Why do I feel like the only appropriate responses are ‘uh-oh’ or ‘do you need help hiding the body?’

@mythicwitch

Haha, very funny. No it’s … a good something! A weird something? And I just feel really excited about it and want to share it with someone who’ll get it haha (which I feel like is this channel!)

@silversmithhh

OMG YOU DIDN’T?!?? PLS SAY YOU DID

@mythicwitch

I maaaay have … had a go at writing some Silversmith fanfiction (don’t judge me @ladyanissadishipper!!!)

@ladyanissadishipper

dw girl I am JUDGING. #moonsilversupremacy #iwillgodownwiththisship

@runicrascal

What! Cerys that’s awesome! Can we read it?

@silversmithhh

SEND. US. THE. LINK.

One More Dance Before The Dawn by mythicwitch

Lady Adanna di Silver/Devon Smith, Lady Adanna di Silver, Devon Smith, Sir Grayson ‘the Moonwalker’, One Shot, Fluff

When Devon sees Lady di Silver dancing with the infamous knight at the masquerade ball, he can’t help but feel jealous.

Words : 461 Chapters : 1/1 Hits : 7

As the Moonwalker melted into the shadows at the edge of the ballroom, Lady di Silver let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, and steeled herself. Finally meeting an adversary – ally – oh, whatever he was – wasn’t going to deter her from the mission at hand.

But before she could leave the dance floor, a hand took hers, and an arm slid around her waist, sweeping her back into the midst of the crowd. Adanna gasped, an indignant remark ready on her painted lips, but found she recognized the masked man before her.

She recognized him so very well indeed. She knew him in her marrow. She knew those calloused hands which had helped lift her out of the dirt during their sword practice, she knew that scent, like leather and pine, and she knew the curve of that chin and those lips. She had imagined the feel of them against her own, sometimes, even if she had never been bold enough to try it.

She would know her dancing partner anywhere .

‘Devon,’ she said, ‘what are you …?’

‘I am dancing, my lady.’ His mouth curved into a smile, one that felt like a secret he was sharing with her, and Adanna’s heart leapt. ‘I would have thought that was obvious.’

‘I didn’t realize common soldiers were so familiar with the waltz,’ she teased, and gasped when he spun her quickly, gracefully, before she was standing in the cocoon of his arms once more. It was hardly the first time they had been close – sometimes they were even closer when sparring and training – but this felt different . Charged, electric, like the air before a lightning storm.

He was close enough to kiss.

Adanna liked to think of herself as brave in a lot of ways, but she wasn’t sure she was brave enough to lean in and risk his rejection. Devon was so dear to her, and they had been through so much. What would she do without him?

When the song ended, he dipped her low, and she could almost taste the chocolate cake from the feast on his breath, sweet and intoxicating. Through his mask, his shining emerald orbs were fixed on her.

‘Devon …’ she breathed.

He set her back upright, his usual mask of the respectful, faithful guard slipping back into place. ‘We ought to –’

‘No.’ She caught his hand within hers. ‘Stay. Just one more dance?’

He took her in his arms once more. ‘Anything for you, my lady.’

They could not dance the entire night away, she knew that, and from the shadows of the ballroom she was sure she could feel the watchful gaze of the Moonwalker upon them.

But this dance with Devon was hers; just as she was his, until the end.