Memories Swim and Haunt you | Time is a Stream

Instructions

THIS IS THE SECOND PART! LOOK TO THE STUDIO FOR PART 1! Tw’s: Implied abandonment (if there’s any more just tell me! ^^) Word count: 1,363 Memories Swim and Haunt you | Time is a Stream Time slips through our hands like grains of sand. You can’t stop it from sliding through the cracks. So simple but so complicated at the same time. Timelines are the same, think of them like a river. If you move a pebble it makes a whole new stream, the same as adding a pebble. This fact always scared Tyro, not that the blonde would admit it. A single mistake in one of the missions would screw everything up, and they wouldn’t be able to stop it. But that was a problem for another day. Don’t you suppose? Tyro had decided to, what did they call it? Ah yes, procrastinate. Such a strange word for something so simple. Some would say that the blonde was more sophisticated for their age, in which is that age being… 17? At least they think. It’s difficult to keep track. But that /sophistication/ is simply a show for the higher-ups. They needed to prove themself by being calm and collected. Tyro could never seem to drop the habit. The days since she joined faded into a watercolor blur, then again time was difficult to keep track of when you are constantly going back and forth. Oh well, they were called on a mission, all she needed to do was get the information and get it over with. “Hey Flinn,” Tyro said, walking towards the front desk. “Heya, I got your file right here,” the dark-skinned man replied, long black hair pulled up into a bun, hairs falling to frame his face. Flinn pulled out a pale yellow file, a few papers sticking out. “Mm, thanks,” The blonde said, grabbing the file. Flinn nodded and waved to them as she left. Tyro walked through the halls until they reached the lounge room. The area was filled with plush chairs, colorful carpet, and pillows. She fell onto one of the couches with a thump. They opened up the folder, there was a picture of a small town, the typical bright town, stalls littering over the place. Colorful banners decorated most of the buildings and flowers were placed everywhere. The town seemed cheerful, almost as if it was welcoming you. But nothing was that wonderful. This town had a strict, no-humans, policy, meaning it would be difficult to enter without some sort of disguise. And some fake magic just to make the illusion seem more real, some could sniff out magic like a bloodhound. Tyro sighed before flipping the page, what exactly were they looking for? They knew it had to be 3xxx (twelve years after it happened, but wouldn't that make her the same age as in that place?). After two more pages of information, they had finally reached what they had been looking for. An objective. Sometimes these objectives were as simple as moving a pebble slightly to the right, or even as complicated as protecting a person without their knowledge. They had decided this was more of a medium range. The objective was to book a room, an EXACT room. If it's not /that/ room then they could throw away the whole mission. Now came the fun part, once she would enter room 104 simply vandalize it slightly by taking or even breaking the coffee machine. Easy! At least that's what she thought. Oh, how wrong she would be. Tyro walked through the gates of the small town, now sporting large deer horns and ears, a tad bit of pixie dust along with it. The support department does wonders. Other creatures bustled around, all chatting with each other. A couple of children played in the grass, giggling. The Time traveler continued to walk, looking for a large brick building, ‘Saffron Inn’ on a large sign in front. She accidentally bumped into someone, making herself and the stranger fall, whatever they were holding fell as well. “I’m so sorry,” Tyro said on instinct, quickly sitting up. Red apples were rolling around next to them, the stranger sat up as well, their gray wings puffing out. Realization hit the blonde. This wasn’t some stranger, it was /her/. The person who took care of her, practically being the youngers’ parent, only to abandon them. Leaving the child to fend for themself. It was Zina.