No Dogs Allowed

Jumping Fish Lure the Birds

(ty for reading, the little star is happy to see you :D )

(EDITED)(Note to readers: Some chapters ahead may not be fixed to be in line with the new edits)

They say genes are infinitely variable within what you actually receive, but you will always have a little more of your mother considering you only ever receive mitochondria from your mother, and that shit is everywhere whether you like it or not.

"You know why I named you Echo? It's because you and I look so alike." Her laugh was high and airy. "You're an 'echo' of me, get it?"

"Is that bad?" I asked. We sat on the cushions by the window whose face was full of Incheon, city and water against low hills. Summer was thick in the air, leaking in through the white walls, settling on our skin.

"Why would it be?"

I couldn't think of anything then—six year olds were often preoccupied—so I said, "Dunno." I sat up. "You're pretty, Umma. I'm okay with looking like you."

Her grin was starlight. "Thank you, Echo." She pinched my cheek. "How lucky am I?"

But, that was a while ago. And against all my mother's wishes, time comes for you eventually. I'd inherited my mother's looks, but I'd also inherited her luck. My mother was a fantastic wish-maker, a top-grade dreamer, and a runaway at heart. Why she passed that onto me, I'd never know.

"Don't listen to Appa." My mother had said it so many times before, with so many different settings behind her, so many different variations of faces she wore. The last time she pushed it, her eye was scratched, her nose was bleeding, and time had found her. "Don't listen to him, Echo." Her hands were cold on my skin. "You have to trust me. You have to trust that everything I'm doing is for you. This is your life."

Another hint for the winning part:

Stop trusting dreamers with your life. They don't even know how to trust their own.

I said, "I know, Umma."

If she knew how to want, then I'd be the one to learn how to do.

It was only fair, I suppose, that one of us could learn the difference.

______________

I fucking hate the fae.

Bastards, all of them. Immortal sons of bitches that are fit for the stunning world of billboard signs or skincare advertising just as much as the dirty undergrounds of multimillion-dollar mobster industries and overseas crime syndicates. Rats. Pretty, hungry, silver-tongued, downright vicious rats.

I should know.

Tuesday had gone over about as well as Monday had, leaving my limbs hanging on by threads and my bandages from the day before already peeling under new cuts or scrapes. Sweat made my clothes stick to my skin, my Technicolor hair clinging to my forehead. My ears were ringing the entire two-hour bus ride home.

Nia had a night class and it left me hauling my bike across the Splinter's unfriendly streets alone, although no one approached me for once, likely thinking someone had already gotten to me and I had no goods left to be mugged for. I blew a strand of pink and green from my face as I headed for my unit. My bike creaked, its wheels protesting the grainy terrain. I pushed in the key code for the garage.

"Calm down," I told my bike as we slowly descended into the underground, my thighs actively upset at the angle. The hazy white fluorescence guided me down below amongst a kingdom of concrete and cars. "I gotta get Nia to look at you."