SD2024 Memo #1: Rain Mountain

Now in the tail end of winter, the very worst of the Glidavik cold had passed. Daytime temperatures occasionally rose beyond the negatives, and the brief daytime itself had gradually crept later and later into the day. Too bad was that the warming conditions turned the charm of snowfall into the burden of rain, an influx of which had delayed the event and looked to continue long into the night. 

From behind a glass windowpane that reflected them more than it did the outside world, Shimmer mourned the conditions over a steaming mug of coffee. “You’re lucky you got into All-Stars, you know,” they quipped, watching raindrops catch on the eaves of the on-site cafe. “You got the last of the snow, and all I get is this.” 

“You hate the snow,” Pinky Panther countered between sips of their milkshake. 

Shimmer scoffed. “What? I don’t.” 

“Well, that’s what you said when it was snowing during MX,” Panther retorted. 

“I hate the snow in Hunluen. It’s just mud waiting to happen. This is different,” they replied, gesturing vaguely around them. “And since when do you remember everything I say?” 

Panther shrugged as one of the waitstaff came over to refill Shimmer’s coffee. “I’ve been thinking about the tournament today, that’s all. Blame Orbit.” 

That got a smile out of Shimmer. “You two still geeking out about comics nowadays, then?” 

“Comics are art, you know.” 

“Sorry. Geeking out about art nowadays?” 

“Obviously. Want me to bore you?” 

Shimmer looked back towards the window. Rain, darkness, and nothing in between. “Sure. I’ve got time.” 

Pinky Panther and Shimmer hang out at one of the Moraine Domain coffee shops after the Ski Rally.
(Art Credit: Shimmer)

Every time they blinked, the number appeared behind Smokey’s eyes. Twelfth. It was… Well, it wasn’t good. It wasn’t Royal’s fault, not entirely- shoving was a perfectly valid technique in Ski Rally, Smokey had already learned- but as a black mark on the now-blank slate of their career, it was less than desirable. As they returned to the assigned team strategy centre from their locker-room debrief with the Kobalts captain, the ambient black cloud of malaise that had followed them since the Hazers hit rock-bottom in the League was almost tangible. Smokey had learned this, too- that even on the good days, it never quite went away.

Dodger was waiting for them alone. They’d spent the whole day in the room, a tale told in the mounting piles of snack wrappers and spreadsheets assembled by their sophisticated custom-built laptop. “Good to have you back, coach,” was all they said as Smokey lingered awkwardly by the doorway. No mention of the poor result or of Royal’s performance at all. 

“Twelfth,” Smokey replied. Dodger didn’t need telling- the live broadcast of the event was still open on their screen- but Smokey loathed to beat around the bush. “I can only apologise.” 

The atmosphere was stifling, and the air between them was far from clear. But rather than turning cold or critical, Dodger merely nodded understandingly and smiled. “It’s the first event,” they declared, “and you haven’t had time to train them yet. I understand.” 

The dark clouds parted slightly, and Smokey let out a silent sigh of relief. “Thank you. As there’s nothing else, I’ll be returning to my room for the night.” Scot-free, they thought, turning to leave as they’d always done. 

Except- 

“Nothing else? You haven’t forgotten, have you?”

Smokey’s heart sank. “…What is it?” 

“Press duties, coach! Every Zuronian outlet worth its salt has a reporter here, you know. They’re waiting for you as we speak.” 

Turning back to face Dodger, Smokey couldn’t help the way their expression twisted, nor could they hide their disappointment. “Aw, no need to be so down. I’ll accompany you!” Dodger said, still smiling. Perhaps it would have been worth trying. 

“I… Very well.” The clouds regrouped. 

Dodger grinned as they rose from their seat. “See, I knew you’d come around…” 

The finalists dash down the Ski Rally track in the first event of the 2024 Showdown.
(Photo Credit: Jelle’s Marble Runs)

The rocket to victory was getting closer to its destination. Now the Purple Rockets sat atop the standings, like astromarbles watching Marblearth from afar. The rest of the competing athletes in the Showdown took the Purple Rockets being at the top with a grain of salt. But for the Purple Rockets it only fuelled their motivation. Two silver medals, back to back, was something they never dreamed of. They wished to the stars to maintain this momentum. 

Having finished one of their long and testing hikes, Blast and their two silver medalling friends stood in the isolated regions of Glidavik. Saucer was still feeling exhausted from the earlier event. Blast rolled over to Orbit, noticing how they were frozen in a train of thought. The sun was starting to set, and the stars began to illuminate the frigid sky. However, while rummaging in their bag, Blast noticed they had forgotten their telescope.

“Oh stars…! I forgot my telescope! Did I leave it at the hotel? Did I lose it on the hike here? Ah, what do I do…?” Blast rummaged through their bag, but to no avail. “You know what, I’ll go back the way I came! See ya!”

The two medalists watched as Blast rapidly rolled away. Now it was just the two of them and the stars. Saucer tilted their head to see the first stars light up the dusky sky, while Orbit remained unmoving, their mouth agape. Saucer took note of Orbit’s lack of reaction.

“Orbit, are you alright..? Look at the sky, we’ll-” 

They were cut off by Orbit responding. “I…It’s fine. I’m faring alright, why?” 

“You look distressed,” Saucer begun. “And when Blast was around, you weren’t reacting to anything. Are you sure you are doing okay?”

Orbit sighed. “Yes, I think I’m a bit too overwhelmed by everything. I feel like the Showdown is… you know, stressful? Even if we have nothing to lose this time.”

“It’s okay to feel that way. I used to feel like that in my professor days. Stop thinking about the tournament for the moment, have some fun.” Saucer then handed Orbit the ornate telescope they had given Saucer after Marble Survival 100. “Take this back, you deserve it.”

“No. You do. You got a silver medal too. Besides, I meant for you to keep that! And to top it off, you did much better than me. I could never endure the funnels for that long.”

The two exchanged words until Blast came back, breaking the silence. They brought two marbles with them, marbles that Saucer knew all too well. One of the marbles had a lime-like aroma, and the other was drenched in primary coloured paint. Blast had retrieved the other podium members.

Orbit looked at Saucer with a faint smile on their face. “Go, Saucer. Celebrate with Rima and Limelime. You deserve it, and I’m always proud of you..!” 

Just as Rima and Limelime were about to reach out to Saucer, the latter fell to the icy floor. Noticing how they were going to scrape their glass, Rima and Limelime pulled Saucer into a hug. The three remained silent, until Limelime spoke up:

“Hey. You did very well.” Rima nodded at Limelime’s statement, giving Saucer a melancholic look. “C’mon! Let’s go celebrate at one of my favourite restaurants. Rima’s paying.”

Rima pouted at Limelime. “Oi! Don’t punish me! I didn’t do anything!”

Seeing the two banter made Saucer chuckle a bit, and they wiped themself with a cloth. “Haha, sure… Let’s go.”

Credits

MRS7 Memo #10: Fireworks

Superball and Lollipop overtake RN3 from behind as Blue Moon takes the lead in the A-League final.
(Photo Credit: JMR)

That’s why I think you could beat me this season. You’re only six points back, after all, and you were in perfect form today.

–

Right now, whatever happens, I’m going to remember it forever. So, I want to get it all right.

–

In the span of four races, Lollipop had managed to acquire two medals and enough points to put them in fifth right before the final race. Now, in said final race, they added a third medal to that count with another last-second overtake, completing a medal rainbow for the first time in their career. 

The best races were the ones where they stepped onto the podium, but the very best of the best were the ones where they rolled off with Superball by their side. The black-and-white marble net a silver in the same race after a shaky season, and all that was left now was to check the scoreboard for the final time that season. 

Amongst the last to arrive, they found themselves at the back of the teeming crowd. Points ticked up on the screen to the silence of collectively held breath. Lollipop had worked it out in their head; now, they watched the screen particularly attentively, waiting for their calculations to be reflected in reality. They hadn’t paid attention to Reflektor’s position in the race- all they knew was that they’d placed ahead of them, and with a third, that was hopefully just enough. 

The numbers ticked down, and there it was. One final good result and they were shot into fourth place, nine points in front of Superball, whose silver was enough to reach fifth. Reflektor, their competition for the lowest rung of autoqualification, was down in sixth. 

Lollipop turned to see Superball grinning. “You did it!” they exclaimed, no mind paid to their own place in the standings. “I knew you could. I’m so happy for you.” 

Autoqualification. 

A fourth was never as flashy as a podium spot. They wouldn’t be standing high, lapping up the attention of cheering crowds and jealous peers. But come the next season, they’d be amongst the four marbles kicking things off with a friendly round and no need to worry about whether they’d be able to race at all. And Superball…

They’d need to qualify. For the first time since their debut.

“I really did, didn’t I?” laughed Lollipop, exhilarated, still not quite reconciled with the situation. “I hope you don’t feel too bad, because, you know…” 

“I’ll be fine. You’ve always tried your best to join me, and I’m going to do the same, alright?”

Lollipop pulled them close, into a powerful hug. Tears welled up at the back of their eyes. “I know. Thank you… Thank you for everything.”

For the first time in Pollo Loco’s racing career, the steps of the final podium were theirs to ascend. Many race podiums had passed over the years, but it was only from the final podium that one could truly preen and celebrate. Even just the sight of Dragon’s Egg being led up to that first step set their heart racing, skipping, thundering with the anticipation of the years that had built up to this one singular moment- 

An attendant nudged them forwards. This was it. A silver medal slung around them, the crowd breaking out into raucous cheers and fervent clapping, clapping for them, a thousand eager faces all smiling in unison-

– in the distance, El Capitan, still wearing their own gold medal, their smile the widest and brightest of anyone’s. 

–

The day’s celebrations calmed like the breaking of a fever, cooling and cooling as an afternoon’s worth of parties gradually wore at the celebrants. In their youth, Pollo Loco would have laughed and danced through sundown until sunrise, but their ability to endure crowds of hundreds had apparently declined as their racing improved. Not that they weren’t young now, though, they thought as they tapped out after just a few hours, lounging around in their room with El Capitan back at the athletes’ village.

Despite their earlier happiness, the older marble had become distant over their hours together. It was unusual for them, Pollo Loco thought. 

“Feeling alright?” they asked, passing another glass of iced tea, making the most of the lobby’s free dispenser for the last time. 

El Capitan accepted, wordlessly gulping down the entire glass at once. They appeared briefly lost in thought before turning back to Pollo Loco with a sullen expression.

“It’s all over now, isn’t it?” they mused eventually, as quietly as someone so boisterous could ever be. 

Pollo Loco was perplexed “Of course it is. What do you mean?” 

“The season,” El Capitan clarified. 

“Well… yeah. I know that”

El Capitan nodded, less agreement and more acknowledgement. “I feel I may have… Burned some bridges, you know. With Big Pearl and Wisp of Darkness.” 

What? You’re only realising that now? Pollo Loco thought. “Well, they probably won’t take it personally. Racing is racing,” they said instead. 

“I overreacted,” they continued mournfully. 

Pollo Loco agreed. “…Can’t say you didn’t.”

The two sat in silence by the window and watched the sun descend past the horizon. 

“Congratulations,” El Capitan eventually added. “I didn’t say it earlier, so…” 

“Thank you. And right back at you.” 

The MRS7 B-League podium, featuring El Capitan, Wisp of Darkness, and Big Pearl.
(Photo Credit: Jelle’s Marble Runs)

As they watched their abortive attempt at a final “race” play out as a replay on the screen, Big Pearl decided there was nobody on Marblearth they loathed more than Dragon’s Egg. They certainly wouldn’t object to a competitor ruining their own shot at the championship,  but stopping them dead in the middle of the track was an act of wanton selfishness that bordered on unforgivable. Yet each time they met Dragon’s gaze, it was as if they were watching only the clouds move in the sky. Apparently, watching the incident that had ended their potential championship run merited no emotion whatsoever. 

That… Big Pearl couldn’t stand that. 

“How on Marblearth can you just stand there and watch this like it means nothing to you?” they barked above Greg’s narration, marching up to Dragon and meeting their steely gaze with an expression of pure fury. 

The emerald marble remained unperturbed, acknowledging them only with the upturn of their brow. Hotter, angrier, bitterly furious- the rage in Big Pearl’s heart swelled and puffed out black smoke. 

“It’s your attitude that disgusts me. Standing around and acting cool because you won’t take accountability. That’s what you’re doing right now!” 

No response. Big Pearl could huff and puff all they wanted, but Dragon’s Egg would only stand and watch as Ghost Plasma crossed the line to win. Incensed,  they leered further until there was but a breath between them and Dragon’s Egg, briefly, finally, catching them off guard. 

“Aha! I knew you could hear me. Now, how about you tell me what your problem is-” 

“Whew! You guys sure were hiding from me, huh?” 

Crap. That was Ghost Plasma. Big Pearl quickly withdrew, assuming an innocuous stance as Ghost Plasma wrapped them both in a hug and drew them closer for a picture. 

“Congratulations to the both of you. You gave me a real run for my money, you know.”

Big Pearl sighed under their breath. Their inability to read the room was almost astounding… but if they hadn’t shown up, they might have done something unwise. 

Plasma beamed. “Say cheers!” The flash of the camera blared in Big Pearl’s face, drowning the room in white light.

When it dissipated, they were back in the present, a bronze medal around them and Dragon’s Egg to their side. 

“I’m sure I’ll feel better about it later,” Big Pearl muttered. “But this was the worst of all outcomes! And you know I’m competitive.” 

“I hate to say it, but it could have been worse for me. If things had gone any better for Lollipop… Gratefulness is an art, let’s say that.” 

“Could’ve been better,” sulked Big Pearl. 

“Could have been better,” concurred Dragon’s Egg. “But look at it this way- we’ll always have next season.” 

From the moment they’d rolled out of the collection basin at the end of the final race, Blue Moon hadn’t spent a second alone. First, it was the other racers, then the press, then the fans who had flocked to the sand and the streets in celebration of their win. Only as the sun dipped low and rosy in the evening sky were they released from the furore- not that they were being left to their own devices, as they’d been booked to speak one-to-one for several sports news networks in the area afterwards. The night crept in, and they were finally done with all engagements but one: a talk at a social club for Waxingtonians living in the sandhills region. 

For their whole life, nobody had been as interested in them as they were now. Attention like that, so fawning and unreserved, was like eating syrup plain off the spoon- vaguely pleasant at first, then quickly veering off into the unpleasant and overwhelming. Surely their victory spoke for itself. Surely all of the fumbled speeches and press questions were unnecessary. At least here they had been paid for their attendance with a buffet of the venison jerky and berry cider they’d missed from home, but the exhaustion that plagued them remained. Perhaps it would change later, but right now, it felt like they hadn’t won anything at all. 

“Are you feeling any better? Ready to go up, maybe?” 

That was Buck. Buck owned the clubhouse, and they’d gotten acquainted a few weeks prior. They were a nice marble, and Blue Moon knew that they’d let them go with no hard feelings if they threw in the towel and canceled, yet knowing that made it even harder to do so. They sat and frowned and sighed indecisively in the cramped single room backstage. 

“No? I get it,” they added, nodding. “We still have some musicians scheduled, so take your time.” 

When they left, Blue Moon sighed and reclined back in their seat. A single overhead light flickered on-and-off in uneven intervals, broadcasting dark shadows at odd angles over the vintage wood panelling. Gnawing at another strip of jerky, Blue Moon returned to the script being built bit-by-bit in their head. 

I’m honoured I was able to bring the championship to Waxington– 

A knock on the door interrupted their thoughts. Buck again?

“Hi,” came the voice, and it was Buck’s. “Sorry to bother you again, but there’s someone here to see you.” 

“…Alright.” After all, what was one more marble?

The door opened just a crack, then fully. Reflektor rolled in alone, Buck all too eager to desert them. They moved slowly, cautiously, gaze never fully meeting Blue Moon’s, as they shuffled in and produced a bouquet of white tulips and midnight-blue anemones. 

Blue Moon blinked slowly. “…Are those for me?” 

“I… Um… Yeah. I wanted to congratulate you. I thought…” 

Blue Moon took the flowers. Perfectly fresh and wrapped in a shroud of silken white cloth, they were a pleasant reminder of the world outside of press junkets and sitting behind microphones. 

“Yeah?” asked Blue Moon. 

“You deserve them. But, um… I thought I should thank you, too.” 

“For what? You lost to me.” 

Reflektor sat awkwardly on the room’s single other seat. “Well…  I don’t like saying it, but before this season, I was starting to lose my passion for racing. Yeah, I was having fun, but I wasn’t going anywhere. Nothing I did mattered. I met big fans of the Rally who couldn’t even remember my name or what I’d scored previously. Sure, it’s not my real job, but I just thought I’d have achieved more by now. And… Um, this bit is kind of…” Reflektor trailed off nervously. 

“Go on,” Blue Moon nodded

“When things were going back and forth between us, I started having fun racing again for the first time in a long time. I know we didn’t really talk- I figured you probably didn’t want to- but I thought about you a lot. How I’d beat you the next time round, or what I’d say to you before the day of the final race for the championship. Our rivalry made me finally think and feel like a real racer.” 

A heavy silence, the product of a world that had not come to pass, lingered between the two. 

“Then I got overconfident, and I messed it all up. I even lost the autoqualification. But you… You’re really something. And now I know I can’t even compare.” 

Blue Moon blushed. “…Thank you. That’s really- um, if it makes you feel any better… that whole time, I thought I was going to lose hopelessly.  I mean, you’re so experienced and confident…” 

“No way you thought that,” Reflektor laughed, expression relaxing.

“I did, though! Compared to my record, yours is still way better….” 

A more comfortable silence overtook the room, the two finally able to exchange friendly glances. 

“Um… I have to go up there and give a speech and stuff soon, but once this is over, do you want to go get ice cream or something?”

Reflektor considered the proposition briefly. “I’m a little tired of ice cream right now. How about a proper meal instead? And I can stick around while you’re speaking if you’d like.” 

“Alright,” Blue Moon smiled. “I think I’d like that.” 

The MRS7 A-League podium, featuring Blue Moon, Pollo Loco, and Dragon’s Egg.
(Photo Credit: Jelle’s Marble Runs)

Credits

  • Writers: Millim
  • Copyeditors/Editors: Io Twelve
  • Special Thanks: Foucaulf, Toffeeshop
  • Photo Credits: Jelle’s Marble Runs
  • Reference: Video Link
  • Release: 09/04/2025

ML2024 Memo #6: One Final Aurora

In this world, there was only one rule that the Balls of Chaos obeyed- there are no rules. A Balls of Chaos season could be anywhere between excellent and dismal, and knowing which in advance was impossible. All you could reliably bet on was that it would be interesting, because the Balls of Chaos would do anything to make a season interesting. Even if that meant sneaking in their first and only medal during the final, championship-deciding event. 

Naturally, all four of Tumult’s teammates had evaded the security and surmounted the field barriers just to get to their newly-silvered captain on the podium, practically pushing Astron and Hop off in the process. Were the stadium not still in uproar over the deciding match, they might have gotten in trouble for it. 

“Go cap! Knew you wouldn’t leave us hanging!” Disarray cheered, eager to express their cheer the only way they knew how- bumping them enthusiastically on the side until they were gently asked to stop. 

“On a list of all the seasons we’ve finished with only a single silver medal, this would easily be the number one,” quipped Clutter, never too proud to take pot-shots at their own team. Tumult opened their mouth like they had a retort behind it, only to suddenly think better of it and stay silent. 

Anarchy wrapped their captain in a big hug from behind. “Better late than never! Just don’t tell me you were trying to teach us a lesson in delayed gratification, eh?” 

“Nothing of the sort,” retorted Tumult, stowing the medal away with their coach where it wouldn’t be exposed to the antics of their teammates. “You wouldn’t learn it even if I tried.”

“Classic Tumult,” laughed Anarchy sardonically. They held up their phone- an old model with a glittery protective case that had long outlived its protectiveness- and angled it so the whole team would fit within the eye of its camera. “Hey, while we’re here…” 

“Right now?” Tumult didn’t look all too enthusiastic. “You just invaded the field, and I look like a complete mess, and-” 

A loud faux-shutter sound announced what Tumult should have known from the start- resistance was futile. “C’mon, this is your moment! Live a little,” Anarchy laughed, flashing the photo in front of their captain. They’d been caught mid-blink, as had Snarl. 

“Don’t you dare post that,” Tumult barked, to no avail. 

“Two words: too late.” 

Astron rolls unimpeded to the win in ML2024 E16: Ice Maze, securing Team Galactic’s first medal of the tournament.
(Credit: Jelle’s Marble Runs)

As the antics of the Balls of Chaos kept the crowd entertained, Astron and Hop departed the podium entirely. Not ten minutes after the ceremony’s conclusion the five Galactic team members and their new coach were sequestered inside the team offices with standard-issue laptops sitting in front of them. At first they shared glances and gestures across the meeting table- knowing winks, sighs of relief, gentle bumps of reassurance- but when Cosmo sat the invisible noise died down into nothing. 

“Good evening,” they announced, and the meeting commenced. “Welcome to our postseason debrief meeting. I’ve ran Celestina through the format and approach, so we’ll be proceeding as usual. Does anyone have anything they’d like to raise before I deliver my report?” 

A brief silence followed before Pulsar raised their pen. “Congratulations to Astron on their gold. Without them, we’d be coming into this with nothing to show for ourselves.” 

Polite, measured applause followed. Astron sat pride of place at the table, but the mood was too subdued for celebration. They accepted the tempered adulation of their teammates in its stead. 

“Congratulations, Astron. It can’t be overstated how much we owe you,” Cosmo concurred. “Anybody else?” 

Starry rose from their seat, notes already prepared and neatly organised in their grasp. “If I could go ahead.” 

Cosmo nodded. “Of course.” 

“I am not blind to my own personal reputation and role within the team, and I consider it a duty to deliver on the expectations that others set for me. I take full responsibility for my failure to perform and its impact on our team and its reputation. In return, I can only ask for patience as I begin to right some of the mistakes made over the last year,” they recited, practiced and effortless at once.

A self-contained whirlwind of emotions played across the faces of Starry’s teammates. Hearing Starry speak so critically of themself was novel, but the sentiment was clearly from the heart. 

“It’s not your fault-” Cosmo began, only to be faced with a sharp look from Starry. The message understood, they went quiet. “What I mean to say is that we’re all culpable for this. For our joys to be shared, so must our responsibilities. I share Starry’s sentiment, and I commend it. Our work begins now.” 

A tempered round of applause broke out around the table. 

“With that said…” Cosmo continued, “we’ve worked hard. Tonight is for celebrations, so please, go and enjoy yourselves.” 

Just a few months before they secured bronze in the 2024 Marble League, the Black Jacks had been relegated.

It wasn’t a single thing that had landed them in the predicament, rather a convergence of factors, though in the moment it hardly appeared that way. Eighth, fifteenth, seventh, sixth, eleventh… Fifteenth again. At Honeydome Club slipped past the line at a slow clip, pursued only by a similarly unfortunate Blast, and that sealed the deal. Relegated. 

One year on the podium, one year as far from it as possible. Three years in exile from the main show. Perhaps the life of a bit-player was the ugly reality of returning. That it had happened to long-time friends the Minty Maniacs as well was only a small comfort, especially when the Bumblebees had reached the podium that year. Then to lose M1, and go out early in MS100…

I’m not going to quit. I won’t quit. Quitting means I- we- came this far for nothing. I couldn’t forgive myself for that, not for the rest of my life. 

And so, the hard road to return began. 

Save for the winter season, where foreboding desert mountains were briefly tipped the colour of zinc sunscreen, there was no snow in Las Veglass. But there were indoor slopes. A dozen opened their doors in the months where all other trails in the hemisphere had vanished into nothing, welcoming hobbyists and tourists alike, offering every winter sport imaginable. They didn’t need favourable terrain. They didn’t need facilities. But they needed to work hard. Even if the qualifiers were off-limits, each of them knew that another relegation was likely a death blow to the team’s esteem, and potentially even their place in the League itself. 

Just keep moving. It was a life philosophy as much as it was an event philosophy. If they kept moving, they would get where they needed to be. 

The urgent letter came two months before the qualifiers began, bearing information for their eyes only. Relegation was cancelled; their team freed both from disappointment and certainty. Like a candle’s flame in the darkness of night, there was a chance, however weak and far-away. 

Just keep moving. 

Consistency mattered in the qualifiers- a weak beginning into three solid shots. The team celebrated privately, with none of their usual ostentatiousness. They expected nothing; even this was hard to believe. 

The medals came in slowly, inconspicuously, a whisper rather than a shout. Bobsled first, overshadowed by Team Momo’s legendary redemption, then Ice Bowling, once more their dimmer star. Even Ski Jump, the event that for the first and last time put the Blackjacks atop the standings, had Momo just two steps behind. Snow Tubing, one step ahead. By then the press had begun its chattering about ‘the rivalry nobody saw coming’. 

Certainly, neither team had expected it. Did it exist? Nobody was ever quite sure. The Blackjacks kept going. 

Two big missteps in the Snow Snake and Skiing Rally waylaid all but a distant shot at the championship, but Heart’s Funnels pedigree had all but carried them to a confident shot at third. 

Ice Maze ended early. It didn’t matter. Everything added up as they needed it to, and just like that, the Blackjacks had gone from relegated to standing on the podium steps within the span of a single League. Fans who’d expected nothing cheered in their numbers from the stands, their eyes turned to the team who’d defied the odds and done the impossible. 

From atop the podium steps, all the problems of the past seemed so far away. 

I’m glad I kept going, Heart thought. 

The final podium of ML24, featuring Team Momo, the Snowballs, and the Blackjacks.
(Credit: Jelle’s Marble Runs)

It was the day the Snowballs were due to stand on their first ever League podium, and Snowdrift was nowhere to be found. Not too long ago they’d crashed out of the grand finale during the first run of the Ice Maze track, and since then nobody had seen hide or hair of them. At least that was what Snowy surmised, twenty minutes before the ceremony was due to begin. 

They’d held out some hope that they’d have taken their captain’s period of futile searching to return to the Snowballs’ team room, but no dice. Only Snowfall sat waiting underneath the fluorescent office lighting, having not joined the rest of the team in the holding pen beside the event space. That was odd, Snowy thought. And if anyone knew where Snowdrift was, it would be them. 

Snowy slung their scarf around the coat rack, where it hung relaxed in the shape of a lazy brown snake. Occasionally they cast glances over at Snowfall, who in their quiet absence of presence was almost serene. Apparently their entry wasn’t even worthy of a greeting. A clock on the wall ticked its predictable tock- how Snowy resented its reminder. 

One, two, one, two, one, two… 

Coaxing word from Snowfall through the silent treatment wasn’t working. Snowy marched to the table with a huff, and the corner of Snowfall’s eyes twitched. “No sign of Snowdrift,” they stated, so weighty with implication that it risked collapse. 

Snowfall remained silent. Tick, tock, tick, tock. Snowy counted each individual beat; sixty-two passed before they were obliged with a response. 

“No. But they’ll come.” 

Of course they know something, crowed the voice in the back of Snowy’s mind. Their composure vanished and their voice shook as they spoke. “You know, don’t you?” 

Snowfall’s mouth twitched, an almost-imperceptible moment, but it was an immediate giveaway. Not to mention that they couldn’t meet Snowy’s gaze without wrenching theirs away, all this feigned ignorance was so affected that it looped around into transparent guilt. But it meant nothing if they stuck to their guns and kept mum. 

“Just tell me!” they insisted, impatience growing, only for Snowfall to shrug it off once more. “You know this looks bad for you too, don’t you?” 

Snowfall exhaled, one long breath drawn out just to test Snowy’s patience even further, before they spoke. “Snowy?” 

Snowy whipped round to face them. “What is it?” 

“Don’t be stupid.” 

Snowy flushed so feverishly red they almost glowed. “I… What did you say?” 

“Don’t be stupid,” echoed Snowfall, no more phased than the first time round. “Snowdrift will come back. But with everything that’s happened, how do you think they’re going to respond when you’re chasing them down in the hallways?” 

For another long minute the silence returned. Even the clock seemed to cease its ticking. All Snowy could hear was their own pulse thundering inside their head. 

“I’m not gonna get mad! I don’t do that any more!” they blurted eventually, just to meet with a small sigh from Snowfall. Their transparent exasperation only frustrated Snowy further. “So, what, I haven’t changed?” 

Snowfall fixed them in a square, appraising glance. “Have you?” 

A final glug of water hit the white ceramic, splashing Snowdrift with tiny specks of water before thundering down the drainpipe with an unpleasant gurgle. 

Once more they scrutinised themself in the mirror. The redness in their eyes had all but vanished, and when they pushed themself to smile they were almost convincingly cheerful. 

Ten minutes left. They could look the part of someone who’d just won a spot on the Marble League podium in ten minutes. Kinnowin, Mallard, Speedy… Better athletes than them had been here and survived. They could do it. 

They could…

Augh, what am I doing?

It was back in 2018 when Momo first laid eyes on colorful lights decorating the dark sky, the inky midnight illuminated with broad strokes of vivid hues reminiscent of the paintings their closest friends made. It was a welcome sight back then – a beautiful celestial scene made the stress of contacting everyone they knew in bleak hopes to save a season melt away, even if only for a moment.

Nearly seven years later, the same splendor of the aurora graced the skies of Glidavik tonight; perhaps the only similarity between then and now.

It was hard to find similarities between a disappointing season held together by a lifeline of kindness and a season which ended with seeing Marblearth from its highest point, after all.

“Pretty, right?”

Momo kept their gaze on the sky in spite of Prim’s voice. It surprised them that the other captain agreed to meet up somewhere much colderthan where the first of many victory celebrations for Team Momo were taking place.  “Mhmm. Makes braving the cold worth it.”

“…does the sky remind you of all those years ago?” Prim’s question was hushed, the thin puffs of white their breaths the only proof they’d asked anything.

“2018, right?”

Prim nodded.  “Yep. 2018 has been on my mind all day, honestly.”

“Why?” It was now Momo’s turn to wonder if they’d said anything, with how silently their words.

After a few beats of silence, Prim finally spoke up, “I remember that first night. Mary and I arrived in Hailfern as Team Momary members, and you invited us to see the sky. It was just like this. You were beyond excited, saying you’d never seen anything like it after years of wanting to.” They laughed softly. “I get why you were so excited now. It’s amazing to see something you’ve wanted to witness for so many years, right?”

Whatever Momo wanted to respond with took the form of silence, their words caught in their throat and refusing to voice themselves. They knew what Prim was talking about – yet it still felt so foreign.

“There’s nobody on Marblearth who deserved to hold up that trophy more than you,” Prim continued, the suddenness of their words holding Momo in place. “You’ve endured so much, having to see the world fall apart around you so many times, having to be the one everyone blames for your team’s shortcomings, having to wonder if a decision you made out of the blue over a decade ago would ever pay off… I hope this victory is everything you’ve ever wanted. Because seeing you and your friends finally reach the top is everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Momo looked at the other captain. “But… don’t you want that for your team?”

“Of course,” Prim started, “but until that day comes, if ever, I want to be happy for your team. I want to be happy for you.” They sighed. “Focusing on an unstable future does nobody any good. Why do that when I can enjoy this moment with someone who deserved this for years?” Momo noticed Prim’s eyes drift back to the fluorescent colors adorning the darkness, and their own gaze followed suit.

Sure enough, the overhead display hadn’t changed a bit; whether from earlier tonight or almost seven years ago. Momo smiled softly as they observed the lights, nudging their longtime friend.

The words to properly explain how much had changed eluded them tonight, and perhaps would evade them forever – but tonight, Momo couldn’t care less. It was as Prim said: why worry? 

The countless afterparties could wait until dawn chased the colors away, Momo decided with a smile.

Credits

ML2024 Memo #5: Beyond The Horizon

Winning a gold on a day so close to Glassmas had side effects: the fanfare of the podium celebration was quickly overshadowed by a mad dash to decorate the entire athlete’s village in time for the holidays.

“Alright, this is the last one,” called Stinger, dragging an enormous box behind them. They peered up. “Shouldn’t you move away from the edge?”

Foggy looked down from their position on the roof. “I’m not scared of heights,” they said passively, paying no heed to their precarious position. Stinger snorted, then tossed up a Gordian Knot of string lights to them.

“Untangle those, then,” they drawled, diving back into the box. Foggy frowned at the cluster of wires they’d been saddled with, but got to work anyway.

Glidavik’s limited daylight had run out by the time all the decorations were put up, but it was just as well. As Bumble rounded the corner, Foggy connected the plugs, causing all the lights to turn on at once and a gasp of delight from the captain.

“Thank you so much for your help,” smiled Bumble as Foggy descended. “Any way I can return the favor? Buzznya goes all in for Glassmas, but I don’t know what Mt. Huaze does…”

“It’s probably classified,” snarked Stinger, closing up the ladder. Bumble shot them a disapproving look.

“It’s an outsider holiday,” Foggy evaded, prompting an eye roll from Stinger.

“Can’t give a straight answer, can you –”

“I’m so sorry about them,” Bumble said quickly. They withdrew a box of cookies. “Take these, I insist. Congratulations on your gold, Foggy, and Merry Glassmas.”

Foggy nodded in thanks. The decorations that the Hazers had applied to their little spot in the athletes’ village were more for the sake of blending in than anything else, especially with the winter solstice having already passed them, but a holiday was a holiday, and no one would refuse a reprieve from the chain of nonstop tournament events. The cookies they had just acquired would at least be a welcome addition to the dinner they were attending tonight with the Raspberry Racers and the Green Ducks.

On the way back, Foggy stopped at a doorstep, placed down a box tied with silver ribbon, then moved on to disappear into the snow flurries and rejoin their team.

The tag attached to the ribbon fluttered in the wind. Thank you for the advice, Mocha. – F.

The flat Snowfall and Snowdrift shared was rather nice. Two bedrooms, a modern building, an open-plan kitchen-dining area from which one could observe Osnow city center. But Osnow wasn’t much to look at on a midsummer day like this, the humidity of early August bringing with it only dreary clouds. 

Snowfall passed a hot coffee over the dining counter through to a lounging Snowdrift. 

“Aw, thank you,” they replied. 

As Snowfall sat down themself, the window’s view made them grimace. “This weather’s terrible, isn’t it?” they mumbled, counting back mentally to the city’s last sunny day. Five days, at least. “We really should move.” 

“You always say that,” Snowdrift replied, muffled by their being pressed up to the sofa’s armrest. “I’m bored. Show me more of those baby photos of you with reindeer.” 

Snowfall rolled their eyes, but obliged anyway. “You always ask for that.” Phone, apps, gallery – ugh, so many notifications. I shouldn’t have slept in. 

Out of some sense of anxiety, Snowfall detoured to their emails anyway, scrolling past a package delay notification and chainmail from their grandmarble to [URGENT] Marble Athletes Needed For Tryouts. 

It sounded too good to be true, but it wouldn’t hurt to give it a scan. 

Across the room, Snowdrift was growing impatient. Snowfall had promised them adorable photos of giant gangly-legged herbivores snuffling at a swaddled tiny them, and so far they were failing to deliver. “What’s the hold-up?” they grumbled. 

“Snowdrift. Are we free Tuesday next week?” 

Snowdrift’s entire demeanor sharpened. “Sure. What’s up?” 

Snowfall almost couldn’t say it. It really was good. “Duos tryouts for a ‘major league team’, held in Osnow.” 

“No way.”

Snowfall beamed. “Yes way.”

Neither said anything, but they knew it all the same – if not now, when? 

Foggy, Snowfall, and Stinger on the E13: Snow Snake podium together.
(Credit: Jelle’s Marble Runs)

Rezzy and Jump strolled slowly across the central brick-paved path of the athletes’ village snow-dusted courtyard. Dark clouds broke in patches to reveal stray stars, and wind whipped against their woolen scarves and cloaks. 

“…you know, because I always have Sand Rally, my team gave me Snow Rally ahead of time, and that’s how I ended up skiing… well, it worked out.”

Caught in the middle of a sip of coffee, Rezzy shrugged before speaking. “Two words: Fearo incident two-point-oh. Or the track melts, and boom, water race.” 

“It’s so cold out here,” Jump grumbled. “Nothing’s going to melt.”

“Missing home?” Rezzy asked. They’d gone in circles two, maybe three times. Heading indoors was an option, but the air was clean and crisp out here, and it was easier to think. 

“Home, Kinikolu, anywhere where the temperature’s above the negatives every day. Jokes on you, though, because you’ve got to stay here for All-Stars, and I get to go home.” 

“Will you come back to watch the Showdown?” Rezzy asked. “I will.”

“If I’m not busy. But you’ve gotta support Diego, right?” 

Rezzy beamed through the darkness. So predictable. “Yeah! You know, they’re flying in with their team to watch the finale on Sunday.” 

“You two get along so well. Heck, I remember when you cried after me and Diego left!” 

Rezzy stopped dead in their tracks. “Wait, what? I didn’t – I didn’t do that.” 

Crap! Thought Jump. They had seen Rezzy crying – but Rezzy didn’t know that. They’d been spying on them, after all.  “Uh, well. The thing about that is that, um… I sort of –” 

“Ahem.” Somewhere in the middle of their conversation, Snowy had snuck up behind them and began to observe. “Since when were you two so buddy-buddy?” 

Rezzy grinned smugly and nudged Jump in the side. “We’ve been pals since back in Kinikolu, haven’t we?”

Phew, Jump thought. Snowy came right on time. “Yeah! Plus, we’re the two winners of the Glassmas races, so it makes total sense that we hang out.” 

Jump grinned and leaned against Rezzy’s side, creating a casual half-hug. “Yeah! Actually, we were just hanging out on Glassmas. We thought we’d give back to everyone, so we spent the whole day delivering gifts to the rest of the athletes.” 

Snowy’s eyes went dark and their bottom lip curled, startling Jump. Somehow, the air around them had gotten even colder. What? What’s Snowy’s problem with us giving out gifts?  

“Snowy, I –” Jump began. 

“So, it’s one of you who put a copy of ‘The Guide to Workplace Conflict Resolution’ through my mailbox in the dead of night?” 

Jump grimaced. Ugh, Rezzy…!

Rezzy overtakes Tumult before overtaking Jump while Snowy leads in the final of E14: Ski Rally.
(Credit: Jelle’s Marble Runs)

Celeste: I didn’t even know they had Rosakan food in Glidavik. 

Celeste: Did your flight land safely?
Black Hole: Yes, thank you. We touched down about half an hour ago. 

Black Hole: Apologies for not being able to meet you when you flew in. 

Celeste: Don’t worry about it. Take care. 

“Coach, is everything alright?” 

It was still so strange to hear Cosmo call them coach. Until now it had always been Celeste, or Celestina, or occasionally their actual title, Assistant Coach Celestina. 

They placed their phone down next to the half-empty bowl of noodles. “Apologies. Just a few important messages.” 

“Well, feel free to go outside if you need to.” Cosmo’s own hot, brothy soup, mostly untouched, hid their face through a curtain of steam. 

“It’s fine. Let’s not interrupt a team dinner.” 

“Cheers!” 

All six members of the Raspberry Racers clinked glasses of champagne to the tune of festive music from back home in Rubow, stickying each other with tiny drops of foam. The centerpiece of their common room table was a short-notice red velvet party cake, now mostly cut apart. 

With the schedule passing at such a fast clip, there was barely any time for post-event celebrations. Rizzy needed to be in good condition to face the final event, after which there would be much grander and more formal celebrations. That wasn’t even considering the fatigue they’d put on after having their joint Glassmas dinner with the Green Ducks and Hazers and Rezzy’s Ski Rally celebration in such quick succession. Still, to avoid the backlog of festivities growing even more unmanageable, it was best to have some small party now. 

Things were going entirely to plan until there was a knock at the door, unusual for the time of night. 

“We’re probably being too loud,” Berry suggested. 

“I’ll go and see who it is,” Rozzy offered, being the one closest to the door. They vanished briefly, before returning with a message – “Razz, it’s for you.” 

“Oooh, I bet it’s Snowy out for revenge,” Rezzy suggested. “I didn’t even beat them the other day, and they were still fuming mad at me!” 

Razzy left to meet their unexpected visitor as the conversation continued. 

“And you didn’t do anything else to make them mad at you?” Rizzy asked, skeptical. 

“I only gave them some friendly advice – it’s not my fault they didn’t want to hear it.” 

Shutting the door behind them drowned out the conversation. Their mysterious guest was not Snowy but Heart, lurking silent and concealed in the dark corridor. 

“Do you need me? We’re busy,” asked Razzy, blunt. 

“It’s not urgent,” Heart replied, cool as usual, “but if you’ve got the time for me, I’d like to have a brief word.” 

Heart led Razzy to the elevator and up to the rooftop of the athletes’ village. Here the cold bit and the winds were high, but they were both nonchalant, used to the extreme conditions. Near the railings was a vent that spewed hot air where the two eventually settled. 

“Why did you bring me here?” Razzy asked. 

“You agreed,” said Heart. “Can I call you Dory?” 

The mention of that name briefly startled Razzy, but they quickly composed themself. “It’s outdated. But if you like.” 

“Well, it’s up to you. We’ve both changed a lot.” 

Razzy found themself nodding on instinct. 

Heart continued. “You remember competing against me, right? We didn’t use personal names then, but…” 

“I remember,” confirmed Razzy. “You were the best of the best, winning two years in a row. I was….” Fifth place, ugh. “Not impressive,” they said with a shrug. 

“Well, I wanted to say that I noticed you back then, and I’m impressed by your progress. The League is tough – not that you don’t know that. It takes even more to win here than it ever would in Hubelino. ” 

“Right.” 

“My team went from strong there to DNQing against you in the ML and disbanding. We got our redemption in 2022, and here… Well, I won’t say anything before it happens. But I do want to ask you – when you were at the cusp of winning everything, how did you find the confidence?” 

Razzy blinked. “I never lost it.” 

Heart could only smile. Well, they’d asked. “Of course. I suppose that’s what it takes to win the League, isn’t it?” 

Lost for a response, Razzy remained silent. 

“Ignore me. Go and enjoy your night.” 

Just as suddenly as they’d appeared, Heart was gone. 

The eventual Funnels podium continue to circle downwards in E15: Funnel Obstacle Endurance.
(Credit: Jelle’s Marble Runs)

Credits

ML2024 Memo #4: Hour of Redemption

Back in the days of the Hubelino Classic, Heart was a name both feared and respected. Achieving both great wealth and athletic success from humble backgrounds, the development of a certain mythos around the Blackjacks was unavoidable, but of the quartet they attracted the most of it. 

So cool. I heard that they only say five words a day. Have you ever seen them smile? Nobody even knows where they’re from. 

Back then, they’d relished it. The proud and successful Heart never had to think deeper about themself. Every day could be filled with events and team meetings and fancy dinners and training sessions. Eventually, they could squeeze themself out of their own life. 

Fame and success made them feel whole, even as it made them unapproachable. Transitioning from the Herbotamia Classic to the Hubelino Tournament was just another step towards something better, more beautiful, more whole. And when the Marble League became the marble sports tournament du jour, they were sure of being able to conquer that, too. 

Except-

It’s been a good run, but… Maybe this is a sign to think about something other than competing.

…as sudden as a flash of lightning, it was all over. No more events to win or medals to obtain; the four of them going their separate ways, pursuing their own lives. On the surface they agreed with the collective mood; inside, they were adrift on a vast and formless emptiness. 

What would they do now? 

I don’t know. 

What had been the end goal of all this time and effort? 

I’ll do anything so long as I don’t have to be alone with myself. 

And so it had begun: the most painful few years of their life. Going solo was always an option, but it was too much of a betrayal of their teammates and the decision they’d made together to consider seriously. But Heart without marble sports wasn’t really anyone. They certainly weren’t the marble they’d presented to the world for the last fifteen years of their life, but there was no real alternative to them, either. 

Nowadays there were some hardcore Herbotamia Classic or Hubelino fans who complained about how much they’d changed. That they weren’t the Heart who used to belong to them. Some felt proven right by the 2023 relegation- they’d changed too much to be competitive. They’d never accomplish anything again.

“Hey, are you doing okay?” 

Oh. That was Radiance’s voice. They and Remus had dragged them off to get dinner, some upscale fast food place that was all over social media nowadays. It had uncomfortable metal chairs that caught the chill of Glidavik and lighting so dim it left you with concerns about the food, but maybe their tastes were just unattainably upscale nowadays. In any case, Remus was shovelling fries in their mouth Wolfpack-style, so it probably tasted okay. 

“Yes, I’m fine. Was I spacing out?” 

Radiance shrugged. “You looked tired. That’s all. Don’t let your food get cold,” they giggled. 

Both they and Remus were so young. Back when they were their age they resented being treated that way, of course- what was the difference between them and any other adult? Now, though, it was obvious, even if that youthfulness couldn’t be pinned down to any one factor. It was something you had or didn’t, and if you were zoning out and reminiscing on your life’s regrets with any regularity, you certainly didn’t have it. 

In fact, they’re so young that they’ve probably never even watched the Herbotamia Classic… 

That thought alone was enough to make Heart smile. 

Anyone familiar with the life of a Marble League athlete could easily assume the hardest aspect of that life – the countless hours of rigorous training, the stress that no experience could fully remedy, or having to deal with crushing disappointments 

Few ever talked about how hard it was to have medals to your name in any color but gold. Nobody talked about how hard it was to see those around you do what you couldn’t for so many years so effortlessly, as if earning the right to have your own gold medal was as automatic as breathing.

When the duo had taken their place for the event, they didn’t expect it to happen. After all, their careers were practically defined by how they were consistently good at what they each specialized in without ever being the best; why would anything suddenly change after so many years? If it had been nine years now with nothing golden in color to show, their legacies only written in silver and bronze, that was surely proof they were meant to never see the top of the podium.

And that was okay – but they weren’t sure if it was genuine acceptance of the fact or simply acceptance of a harsh reality that would only begin to hurt less if they accepted something.

“They’ve done it! They’ve beaten the record!”

On the last run of the last heat, those words were spoken. Momomo and Mo had bettered the record in the dying moments of Climbing, leaving no questions about where the duo would place in the event.

No words were spoken as they donned their long-awaited gold medals at the top of the podium, but the tearful glances they shared with each other said it all for them.

It’s about time you earned this.

Ah… What a night, Mocha thought, exiting the athletes’ village. 

Lost in thought, they only noticed the two sullen marbles sat on the steps of the building when a soda can clattering down the stairs alerted them to their presence. It was Rezzy, something of an arch-nemesis of theirs, sat beside a Hazer they didn’t recognize. 

“Hey, Rezzy,” Mocha laughed, still standing a few steps up from them. When Rezzy looked up and realized it was them their despondency somehow deepened, eyes creasing at the edges as they frowned. “Don’t you two sad sacks usually hang out with Billy?” 

Rezzy did not answer. Neither did the Hazer. A heavy aura of defeat surrounded them, as did a veritable collection of empty soda cans. “I’m Foggy, not Smoggy,” the Hazer said, but that didn’t matter to Mocha. 

“Can I be Billy?” they asked, sidling up. “I’m guessing you’re sad ‘cuz me and Fudge beat you hard, yeah?” 

“Shut it,” Rezzy snapped. “Alright, you won. Very special, great job, let’s all clap and cheer. Your prize is that you get to go-” 

Foggy fake-coughed loudly, interrupting Rezzy’s stream-of-conscious ranting. 

“Hey!” Mocha exclaimed, feigning hurt. “You’re no fun when you’re sad. Half the reason I liked beating you in funnels is because you were so confident.” 

Just as Rezzy was primed for a retort, it was Foggy who actually spoke. “Forgive me, but are you just here to provoke Rezzy, or..?” 

Mocha swiped a full can and hopped down the last few steps of the stairs. “Eh, sort of. I do have some actual advice, though.” Not like Rezzy would ever want to hear it from them, but…. 

“Go on,” Foggy said.

“If you convince yourself you’re in a hopeless situation, you will be,” they said, before turning the fence corner out to the exit road. 

“By myself?” Cloudy’s voice had shaken ever so slightly.

Misty had had the unfinalized event list and athlete assignments laid out in front of them. “I was discussing it with Coach last night – you’re more than capable. And look,” they had pointed down the list, “we’ll be together for two duo events first.”

It was a little silly, Cloudy could admit, being this anxious about individual events when they’d already done some in the Showdown and ran plenty of races in M1, but the League was different. And yet…well, there was no avoiding them anymore, especially since they were no longer the reserve.

They had looked down at the list, then at Misty. “…Okay.”

Run the event alone; stand atop the podium alone. Three years ago Cloudy had clambered up the steps with Misty by their side, and in M1 Smokey accompanied them, holding the champagne whenever Cloudy didn’t want to. But today, they stared out at the stadium, starry-eyed, from the vantage point of a gold medalist all by themselves.

It didn’t feel real. They were clumsier than usual going up the steps even with Smokey directing them up, but that was fine. There was always next time, they thought as they made their way through the interviews – interviews that Cloudy had badly wanted to skip, but it was courteous to humor a few journalists today. By this point, they knew better than to ask overly invasive questions, lest they end up blacklisted from interacting with the team altogether.

Misty was waiting for them at the exit of the press conference room. “Cloudy,” they gasped, embracing them as they stepped into the hallway, Smokey trailing behind.

It set off a small squeak of protest. “Misty,” Cloudy whined, making a halfhearted attempt to wriggle free.

“Sorry.” They let go. “I just…I’m just proud.”

“It was just like practice,” Cloudy deflected, twisting around to beam at Smokey, who was comparatively impassive. “I was ahead by a lot, right?”

“Three-tenths clear,” Smokey confirmed. “Well done.” There was an undercurrent of relief in their voice, albeit suppressed and hidden. Cloudy basked in the praise, waiting expectantly for more and receiving a flat stare instead. “Humility is a virtue, Cloudy.”

“Worth a shot,” they chirped. Misty smiled.

Smokey sighed, then prodded them forward. “Go celebrate,” they said. “Remember –”

“I’m representing Mt. Huaze, so act accordingly, et cetera,” Cloudy finished dutifully.

“Good,” said Smokey. They glanced at Misty. “Go on, both of you.”

Misty nodded, then their face fell. “Coach, this League…”

The lights hummed above them. It wasn’t difficult to guess what they were referring to – the situation had been barely rescued by Cloudy’s heroics today, but there was still far to go.

“I’m aware.” Smokey’s expression remained controlled. “But the important thing is that it’s not over yet, so I need you to focus on what’s ahead of you right now.”

Misty swallowed, as if they had more to say, then met their words with a determined stare. “Understood.”

Satisfied, Smokey turned away. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need a word with Foggy for tomorrow…”

“They’re not going to be near the reporters’ nest,” Cloudy quipped, giving a lazy glance towards the press conference room.

“South side, with the other two,” Misty said, and Smokey nodded a thank you before sweeping past them into the depths of the stadium. 

It was Cloudy who leaned into a hug with Misty this time. “You know, speaking of them,” they whispered conspiratorially, “Murky’s really homesick.”

“Don’t pretend like you weren’t back in ’18,” Misty countered. They sighed, tilting their head in contemplation. “Hmm, what to do…”

Cloudy laughed, rejuvenated by their new gold.

It’s a turning point, they thought happily. It’ll all get better after this, it’ll all settle down and stabilize… 

And then we can all go home together.

Credits

Arrivals, Departures, Soup

It had been a long while since lunch, Stynth reflected, while nodding off in their office chair. Bustling sounds of typing ebbed and flowed through the door of the large room, where a sign on the door denoted the room as that of belonging to the “Project Marblearth Server Admin”.

It had been four years since the founding of Project Marblearth, the initiative that saw creatives from around the world come together to share the stories of the many athletes around Marblearth, and lots had changed in that time. Of the nine original applicants, the team had grown so much, with contributors leaving and joining and ultimately sharing their own wealth of knowledge, talent and creativity. Stynth looked down their list of current contributors. In fact, only Phoenix and Piney of the original nine still remained, but the team itself had exponentially flourished.

A knock at the door prompted Stynth to look up, just as a marble rolled in, smiling. 

“Phoenix!” Stynth greeted them happily as they rolled over to the desk and plopped themselves down onto the nearby chair. “I was just thinking about how much the team has grown in the past four years.” 

“It’s crazy, isn’t it?” Phoenix responded, gazing around the room. The office was fairly large, with several boxes lining the wall, half packed with Stynth’s belongings. Phoenix frowned and continued, “You’re packing? We can sort that later, Stynth. Come have some cake- I’ve saved the large one for the party later, but I brought some in just for myself.”

The party. Such an exciting day could scarcely be so difficult to fathom, and yet, it was. Today was the anniversary of Project Marblearth, the day that marked four years of dedicated publishing. But it was also the day of a big change. For Stynth, for the Project as a whole. True, the past four years hadn’t gone without fault, there were moments when the desks in the large office building sat fairly empty, when progress slowed and the world seemed to slow down with it. When the communities around the sports in Marblearth got frustrated and emotional and it could get difficult for the journalists to work. But there has been so much good in the past four years.

It was early 2022 when Stynth had expanded the then small team to include management positions alongside themself with Edu and Phoenix as Managing Directors; Emp, Nonagon, and Smacg as Creative Directors; and Laurent and Piney as Design Directors. But that year had been a difficult year and at the end of the year the Project underwent a huge organizational change. 

Project Marblearth now no longer had an Editor-In-Chief, or any of the Director positions. It was an Editorial Board who oversaw the publication workflow, headed up by Stynth as the Server Admin, and Ghost and Phoenix as Board Admins. In that time, the Project had successfully released a RetRollSpective for each team, including addenda for many of them. Marbles who participated in the Marble Rally competitions were beginning to also have their own stories told, while Project Marblearth stood at the forefront of the event journalism game. Series such as Marble Memos and Out of the Rolling captured the details behind Marblearth sports events in a speed and standard that no other group could match. Travelling around the entirety of Marblearth, plane after plane, boat after boat, the writers and designers of Project Marblearth had visited numerous areas and attended many sports events.

“Stynth? You alright?”

Stynth was once more jerked back to attention as Phoenix sat, a look of mild bewilderment on their face.

“Wha- yeah?”

“I asked if you wanted to go out to eat tonight. Ghost is coming too,” repeated Phoenix, a light grin reappearing.

“That sounds lovely, thanks.”

“Awesome! Now, get yourself some cake from my office, and don’t worry about packing until after the party. I can help you then! I’ve got to go and collect the balloons from downstairs, so I’ll see you in a bit.”

Stynth got up as Phoenix left, and peered out the window. It was a beautifully sunny day, and the usual serene picture of buildings and buildings followed by the brightest greenery of parks and trees and fields that cascaded into the distance struck Stynth with a pang, to think they wouldn’t ever see it again. Marbles below the huge windows would look up in awe at the building, pointing up at the ‘Project Marblearth’ sign and stopping to take a picture of one of the most famous buildings in all of Rollkeepsie. 

Humming contentedly, Stynth set off to leave the room, noting the small brand new sign by the door which was to replace the current one, and would mark the room as belonging to the “Editorial Board Consultants”. Smacg and Edu, who held this position, were currently situated in the large office that belonged to the Editorial Board itself, but it would be nice to give everyone a little more space. More room for a couch, maybe a few plants. Perhaps a new coffee machine. But that wasn’t Stynth’s responsibility any more, and as they made their way out into the corridor, the humming hesitated as a wave of sadness overcame them once again. Just a little way down the corridor, Stynth stopped at the door that said “Marblearth Administrators – Phoenix and Ghost” and knocked. This sign, too, was new, though the original had been fairly similar – “Editorial Board Admins”.

“Come in?” a voice called from inside.

Stynth rolled in, smiling to the marble behind the desk on the left. It was an even larger room than their own, the home of the two Administrators who had until now worked very closely with Stynth on the running of the Project. At first glance, it was a fairly standard looking office. There was a large window letting in rays of sunshine that warmed the cold, crisp February air; two large desks with computers and folders and lots of paper; a large red couch adorned with cushions; pictures and certificates on the wall. But then, if you looked for long enough, you might notice the keyboard in the corner, the stash of chocolate in a tall shelf otherwise full of books, and a stuffed Llama named Blingo.

“Ghost! I was promised some cake?” Stynth said to the marble who had been sat typing at the computer.

Ghost laughed and pointed over at Phoenix’s desk.

“There’s a slice for you there, but I should warn you: it’s really good…”

“Challenge accepted!”

Happily full of cake, Stynth returned to the corridor and journeyed through the building. First through the Editorial Board office, which was currently empty, where sun basked the many desks lined neatly in the room, and then down some stairs and through the Contributor offices, which were quieter than usual, though the few remaining marbles waved at Stynth as they passed.

At the bottom of the building Stynth came to the reception, which led to a number of additional rooms which included kitchens, staff rooms and a large theatre which was used for meetings. Just as Stynth reached the door, a marble bustled out, laden with paintbrushes.

“Oh, Stynth! Don’t go in yet, I’ve just set some paint to dry by the door!” Piney cried in panic, almost dropping the paintbrushes in their hand.

“Oh whoops, need any help?” Stynth asked, and was soon sharing the burden of paint and paintbrushes back up to the artist studios on the third floor.

It was a couple of hours later that Stynth sat by the reception desk with Phoenix and Ghost, awaiting the arrival of the guests. A party to celebrate the four years since the founding of the project meant the arrival of many former contributors to the festivities, some of whom were flying in just for the celebration. As the time approached celebration time, marbles began to arrive and were let in, as current contributors rushed back and forth, engaging in final preparations. 

“Ghostly! Welcome back”

“Roilan, how lovely to see you!”

One by one, the building began filling up as the sound of music soared from the theatre, and after twenty minutes had passed the Admin team finally decided to make their way back to join in. Lights flashed many different colors for the group of marbles who were dancing in the center of the room, as groups of marbles sat on the many seats facing the stage area, catching up with each other. Phoenix showed Ghost and Stynth to a large table in the corner which was filled with cards.

“Some congratulation cards,” they explained, before pointing at a couple placed right at the front. “You’ll like these.”

Stynth reached for one, puzzled, and opened it.

Project Marblearth,

Wish we could have attended the party! Congratulations for your four years, and thanks for always doing our team’s story justice!

Here’s to the next year,

Momo (on behalf of Team Momo)

“Brilliant, Stynth smiled, their eyes glistening with a tear as they reached for the second one.

Project Marblearth,

Congratulations on four years of the Project.

Thanks, 

Jelle

Stynth stared at it in shock.

“Does that say Jelle?” a voice came from over their shoulder, as Ramen leaned over. “Impressive!”

Stynth beamed at Phoenix and Ghost and put the card back down, hardly daring to speak. It wasn’t too long after that Stynth found themself in the dance space, boogying along to ‘Here Comes the Swarm’ and then waltzing to a slow orchestral piece extracted from the Strixes Fourth Symphony, Second Movement.

It wasn’t until the music had once again changed to Rolly Marbley’s song ‘One Step, Your Marble’ that Stynth sat down, panting but happy.

A bottle was suddenly passed to them as Mesp, a recent writer and ex-JMRC friend of Stynth’s sat down on the seat next to them.

“D-Cider? Go on, I didn’t bring them just to be looked at.”

Stynth nodded and opened the drink, smiling still. “Thanks. What do you think?”

“Of what? D-Cider? Great. Balls of Chaos? Great. Marblemon? Great. Gaming? Great. Losing… not so great.”

“… the party?”

“Oh.”

Mesp paused, taking a sip of their own drink, before continuing. “A bit crowded, but enjoyable nonetheless.”

Stynth nodded in agreement, “yeah, there are a lot of us now.”

“It’s good though. A big change from when we started. When you started.”

Another marble joined them, holding a large slice of what was clearly the aforementioned party cake.

“What are we talking about?” they asked, taking a seat on Stynth’s other side.

“How much it has all changed from when it was started,” Mesp responded, eyeing the cake with intrigue.

And it had. Many new marbles had joined the team, while many marbles had contributed and moved on to pursue other things.

“I can hardly believe it’s been four years. It both feels like it has been longer and shorter than that,” Stynth said.

“I can imagine. But we all had more time back then, too,” Fouc stated wisely, acknowledging the slight volume decrease in Stynth’s voice.

“We did. And I’m glad I did it. I’ll never stop being glad, but I know that this is the right thing for me to do.”

The music suddenly quietened as Ghost called out into the room.

“Welcome everyone! We’re very glad to have you all here to celebrate how far we have come. It’s been four years, and almost 200 different articles released! And this is thanks to all of you, but it is also thanks to a very specific person in this room who started all of this, and who we would not be here today without. And it is bittersweet to call this their last day, but I want you to know, Stynth, we want you to know that we will carry on what you started with as much enthusiasm and dedication as you always did, and we will make you proud in the years to come. To Project Marblearth!”

The room erupted into cheers and echoes of “To Project Marblearth!” and “to Stynth!” as applause bounced around the walls, joy carried like wind into each crevice of the theatre and building. Stynth stared at all the marbles who now looked at them in a mixture of excitement and awe. On the other hand, Stynth felt a little bit embarrassed and both very happy and very sad. As a hush spread across the room once more, Stynth rose and looked around at everyone.

“Thank you,” was all that they could manage, but cheers filled the room once more and the music volume was turned back up. Phoenix approached a few moments later with a plate of cake as Stynth sat back down in silence between Fouc and Mesp, who both got up to dance.

“Ghost didn’t have to say that stuff, about this not being here today without me,” Stynth finally spoke, as Phoenix handed them the plate.

“It’s true, though. And not in a sort of soppy way, but you have made this what it is,” Phoenix responded, matter-of-factly. “And I’m not going to blow you away with ‘It’ll never be the same,’s and ‘I don’t know how we’ll manage without’s because we will- you know we will. But it’ll be… different… without you around.”

Stynth smiled kindly, before looking down at the cake. “It looks good.”

Phoenix laughed. “It is good.”

The party went on for another couple of hours. Greeting people, looking through cards, dancing, eating food. Eventually it was over, and the guests had left and the rooms had been cleaned up before the contributors all went home. It was just Stynth, Ghost and Phoenix left in the building, and they were all up in Stynth’s office, packing the last of their things.

“It’s difficult to say goodbye,” Stynth sighed, taping the final box together and taking one last look around the now deserted room.

“You know you’re welcome back here any time,” Ghost responded, while picking up the box and carrying it out. Stynth shrugged and followed while Phoenix gave the room an extra check over and shut the door behind them.

“It’s time for me to move on, though.”

The group carried the box outside to the car, before locking the building up and heading down the streets and through Rollkeepsie. Past Momo’s Dumplings, and past a tall water fountain they approached a small yellow building with a sign telling them it was “Rolliad Cafe”. Taking seats at a little table near the window, Stynth perused the menu with interest.

“They have more soup than last time,” they commented.

“It’s like they knew you were coming!” Phoenix laughed, looking up from their own menu.

It was after they had ordered a sandwich, soup and a sausage roll that Stynth fell quiet once more, gazing out of the window. This was it. No more planes and trains around Marblearth. No more rushing through crowds of marbles to get to the front, to hear for themself what athletes were saying. No more queuing in the rain for hours, hoping to get into team press conferences. No more panicking that planes had been cancelled shortly before the beginning of a Marble League, or worrying about how to get to the next one. It had been an immensely fun experience, and something they would never forget. But Stynth was glad, for once, that they would finally have a semblance of peace.

“You good?” Ghost enquired, putting down their glass of lemonade.

“Yeah,” Stynth said, quietly at first, but then more assured. “Yeah, I am.”

“We’ll keep you in the loop of course, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Ghost said, but Stynth shook their head.

“No, no. I’m not worried, I trust you all. You and everyone else. It’s just… bittersweet.”

Phoenix nodded understandingly, “Yeah, it would be. It’s been a long time and you put a lot into this. But hopefully you’re looking forward to what’s coming, too.”

“Of course,” came Stynth’s quick response. “I’ve a plane to catch tomorrow, and I’m going to visit my family and teach some music and I’ll have time to do all the things I enjoy.

“And I’ve wanted to do this for a while. You know that. I did so much but I’m just ready to move on now. But I’m keen that both the server and the Project could be active without my involvement, and that I could pass the torch to a team not only prepared and willing, but eager to continue the work I started. For all the stories we’ve created to build the world of Marblearth, the most important thing is that we’ve had fun doing so. And I hope that you will all continue exploring that fun well into the future.”

As Stynth spoke, the sandwich and sausage rolls had arrived, though neither Ghost nor Phoenix touched them yet, listening intently to Stynth speak.

“But it will always be difficult, I really have enjoyed everything I’ve done with you all”, Stynth continued, their voice beginning to choke with emotion. “I couldn’t thank you enough for working with me over the past four years to build Marblearth. I’m excited to see what you all do as you head into Phase 4 and beyond.”

Silence fell as the three sat there, engulfed in emotions of happy memories and new beginnings.

“I’m glad I got to share it with you,” Phoenix finally said quietly.

“Me, too,” added Ghost.

“But you’re just as engraved into Project Marblearth as you ever were, even if you’re taking a very well deserved step back from doing things,” Phoenix continued with a smile. “I want you to know that. Know it, remember it, never forget it.”

“It’s a weird feeling, getting to the end.” Stynth spoke to no one in particular.

“Resinine Onion Soup?” A waiter hovered above them, interrupting the conversation and holding out a tray with a bowl on it. Stynth smiled as it was placed in front of them, and looked back up at Phoenix.

“I don’t know if I like things ending,” they repeated.

“It’s not the end. It’s just the start of a new chapter.”

Credits

  • Writer: Phoenix
  • Editor: GhostDM
  • Release: 21/02/2025

ML2024 Memo #3: The Guarding of The Change

As the sun began its setting, three picnic-bound hikers began a slow-paced ascent up the side of the imposing Mt. Bonsel. To the right of their trail was its steep upwards slope; in the far distance, across swathes of rainforest valley, were its sibling mountains. The worst of the summer heat had passed with the early evening, but even now the three hikers kept to the shade of the trees whose leaves overhung the path. The red X marks spray-painted on their trunks were faded from exposure and time, but not yet gone. 

As they climbed further up the cleared path, a rocky clearing came into view. It too was sprayed with an assortment of eroded symbols, divested of their meaning and left to disappear. Abandoned construction materials laid around the site in haphazard piles. Yellowish dust coated corrugated metal panels and patchy growth grew through and around cracked tiling. 

“Safe to say we can write all this stuff off as a loss,” Choc mused, flicking their bottle cap back into the basket. “I doubt it’s worth anything, even as scrap.” 

“It’s nature’s now,” agreed Bonbon. “At least we can get up the trail.” 

Previously too busy with the refreshments to speak, Mocha let out a satisfied ahhh before turning to their captain. “Why’d you bring us up here, anyway?” 

“It’s a nice little scenic spot. I figured it’d take the edge off of what I’m about to show you.” Bonbon pulled their phone out and showed their two teammates the results of a recent poll. Narrowed down by team and affiliation, its results were hardly optimistic for the Chocolatiers: only 18% of non-fans believed they could qualify for the upcoming League, and amongst fans that dropped to a mere 13%. 

“Well, who cares?” Mocha declared, masking their discomfort. “Oh, we DNQed in the first winter League, so we’ll DNQ in the second one. Real genius-level analysis, here’s your award.”

“If we do DNQ, that’s more facilities we’ve built for nothing. Nothing against hockey, but…” Choc glanced down the slope to the experimental, half-done tarmacking, now slowly falling apart. “You don’t need to tell me how important qualifying is. I promise I’ll be giving it my all.” 

Bonbon nodded. “I’ll be ramping up training, too.” 

“So that’s why you didn’t bring Cocoa,” said Mocha, smirking. 

“We’ve already spoken.”

The trio went silent. 

“I want this to be a good year for us. I brought the two of you up here because I need you not to bicker when it matters. Got it?” 

Tall shadows cast against the rusty earth, the two waited before nodding in quiet agreement. 

“Great. That’s all I ask.” 

To: [REDACTED]@snowballs.org

First, congratulations on your event win! I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how much it means to all of us Blancouverites that you and your team have won Hockey, but I will tell you to enjoy it. You really shone there, as did your teammates, and I think it’s a great sign you were able to pull off such a solid performance together. 

Onto the main topic: I’d like to remind you about the goals and fears list I’d asked you to create prior to our next session tomorrow. There’s no right way to define either of those things, and it doesn’t have to be long. I just really want to know how you feel about the trajectory of your life and career so we can hopefully identify some themes and work backwards to see what’s informing your perspective. I’m a bit behind you timezone-wise, so if you need to discuss anything I should be around until late. 

Speak tomorrow,

(REDACTED)

Was it possible for two teams to be inexplicably linked together for an entire season?

That question hadn’t been on Ember’s mind at the start of the season, but it only took two events and a podium reclassification to make them ask it. Earlier today they asked themself again. There was no other way to explain so many of the team’s newfound achievements having Team Momo woven into the conversation.

And here they were, asking it once more – it was hard not to when they and their teammate went to celebrate their team’s first gold medals at a cozy cafe, and Momomomo and Mimo had coincidentally picked the exact same one as them.

“Is this gonna be a theme? Us and them?” Radiance whispered. Ember shrugged.

“Hey, gold medalists!” Mimo called out from the other side of the cafe. “Get over here!”

The two stared at each other before setting sights on the table closest to the window. Upon taking seats across from the duo, the first thing they noticed was a large plate of pastries.

Momomomo greeted the pair with a smile as they put down a mug. “Congratulations on the gold! How does it feel?”

Ember looked up from the plate and met Momomomo’s eyes. “How’s what feel?”

“Winning a gold medal,” Mimo blurted. “Or y’know, simply a medal you actually deserved at the end of the day– ow!” They were cut off by a strong nudge from their teammate, a look of disapproval following suit. “…anyways, not many get to say they won a gold, and now both of you can say you have!”

Radiance smiled as they looked down at their medal. “I feel like I’m dreaming whenever I look at this medal… I guess that’s to say it feels great! Never thought this would happen to me.” Their teammate nodded, a silent confirmation that their feelings were mutual.

The air between the marbles went silent. Ember’s gaze kept falling on the plate at the center of the table; the pastries stacked on the plate looked as enticing as ever.

“Do you two want some of these, actually?” Momomomo asked – they knew Ember was staring. “I’m not sure we can finish all of this, so help yourselves.”

Ember leaned in closer, enjoying the sugary scent. “What are these?”

“A Glidavikian doughnut of some kind?” Momomomo answered, unsure. “Either way, they’re good. Go ahead and have some!”

Seeing no reason to refuse their kindness, Ember picked up one of the warm doughnuts. A light drizzling of chocolate covered the golden brown pastry; the sweetness of it made for an interesting contrast to the pastry’s spiced flavor.

“These are so good!” Ember gushed. “Are you sure you’re okay with sharing?”

Momomomo nodded. “It’s the least we could do to congratulate you on a gold medal performance. That and we’d love to get closer to your team. Doesn’t hurt that every time your team achieves something, we’re close by. Maybe we were meant to be friends?”

Radiance’s expression turned confused. “Friends with us? This quickly?”

“Hey, I’m not saying no to seeing more of you two! Maybe we can see each other again whenever your team next medals,” Mimo remarked with a laugh. “Always seems to get us in the same area!”

“Well, when you put it like that…” Ember took another pastry and laughed between bites. “We’ll see you on the podium again, then!”

Glidavik wasn’t in any way short of ice, but it was nonetheless the venue for a gigantic city-centre ice rink for the duration of the League. With a gold medal putting them firmly in the top of the standings, the Green Ducks had decided amongst themselves that they were in a good position to take a break in the city, and Mallard and Bombay had headed to the ice rink with the hope of reliving one of Bombay’s fondest memories with Gadwall. But despite being at the ice rink, peering out onto the busy ice, breathing in the cold air, Mallard wasn’t moving.  

It wasn’t for a lack of trying. In fact, they’d put their skates on a good fifteen minutes ago just to be nowhere near the ice. That was because Bombay, who per their own account had “loved” ice skating before they and Billy had arrived, was only now close to finished with their long lecture about safety on the ice. 

“…and finally, don’t bring the blade of the skates too close to anyone. They’re seriously sharp; that’s how they keep a good grip on the ice. Understand?” 

Mallard had given up listening five minutes in. Eager to get on the ice, they nodded anyway. “Yes, I’ve got it. You can lead me onto the ice, if you’d like.” 

Bombay nodded and took Mallard to their side. They entered the ice together with a tentative grace that almost had Mallard believing their tales of former ice-rink glories. But all of that pretense quickly fell apart as Bombay started to flail and skid about on the slick surface, the initial momentum and stability of their first push having disappeared. As they drifted further towards the center of the rink and away from the rails, Bombay began to hold tighter to Mallard, pressing up until they could hardly move for the added weight of their parent. All of the bluster about safety and confidence had vanished instantly. 

“Didn’t you say you knew how to do this?” asked Mallard, exasperatedly trying to maintain their momentum lest they both lose control and fall onto the ice. Bombay wasn’t making it easy for them, slipping and sliding every time they focused on moving rather than keeping them in place. 

“Yes—well—that was a long time ago!” they protested, clinging even closer. “You don’t mind, do you?” 

Mallard grumbled under their facade of agreeable composure. “It’s fine. But…” 

Unbeknownst to them, Billy and Ducky had just returned from their shopping trip in the city with Fenrir and Sirius in tow. Their teammates’ flailing was as eye-catching as it was embarrassing, and it was impossible for them to have gone unnoticed. 

“All of that advice you gave me was for solo skating, right?” 

“…Yes…” Bombay replied.

“So, you’d probably be more confident if I let you go.” 

Bombay let out a faint whimper of hesitancy, but Mallard had already made their mind up. Darting away too quickly to be caught, they left Bombay to the mercy of the ice and the rink, to gravity and their own balance. For a brutal few moments they wobbled wildly in place, but it was just as Mallard had predicted—memory kicked in and Bombay was quickly upright and alright, if vexed. Meanwhile, Mallard was finding their own balance. 

“Mallard! What on Marblearth was that for?” Bombay chided, skating with remarkable grace but insufficient speed towards them, setting into motion a chase that skirted the entire length of the rink. 

Out of their view, Sirius turned to Ducky and flashed a toothy smile. “I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s great,” they gasped. 

“Just wait for the crash,” Ducky replied quietly, taking a sip of their steaming cup of hot chocolate. 

Credits

Party’s Over

It was a morning where Captain Sea was half aware and half asleep, muddling through dreams in which they struggled to stay afloat in the Seven Seas. All of a sudden, they remembered they were just on a bed. Through the window, the morning sun shone into their eyes.

Wait, is the sun up?! A thought turned to panic. I need to be at the Survival Stadium by dawn! I’m late!

There was no time to check a clock or a phone. Sea jumped off the bed, slapped on their uniform and sprinted out of their Kinikolu suite. An elevator was on the same floor, as if it was waiting. Going down the elevator Sea could still imagine stopping on some other floor, dreading how another athlete stumbling in would waste precious moments Sea needed.

To the Oceanic’s surprise, the elevator shot straight down to the lobby. Then, outside the elevator door, a barrage of camera flashes nearly blinded Sea. It was hard to make out what every marble said, but most were yelling “journalist” of some sort. Questions were shouted forward, nonstop, intended for “… the latest marble sports champion.”

Hearing those words woke Sea out of their daze. There were no more survival races left, because they won the tournament. Now they had to go back to the real world.

Sea pushes for the lead in an earlier Marble Survival 100 race.
(Photo Credit: Jelle’s Marble Runs)

It was the day after the Marble Survival 100 Closing Ceremony; noon had come through and slipped by. After handling a makeshift press conference in the hotel lobby, Sea had a whole afternoon to themself before the whole team would fly into Kinikolu and reunite.

Sea saw another text from Coach Neptune: If you want to kill time, go over to the Stadium and show the trophy off to our fans! But, looking up from their phone, Sea also saw the Marbuses: fleet upon fleet outside of the hotel. Each bus was packed with tourists leaving the resort; together, they were stuck in traffic on a road far too narrow to hold them all.

Sea knew these tourists were rushing off to the next big event. Oceanics fans make up a small minority of them. Maybe they’ll leave to attend a Marbula invitational race, or a regional marble sports tournament, or some secret third thing – events Sea had taken part in before, though maybe never again. The more they thought about the fans, the more nauseous they felt.

Sea took off again, but in search of a more familiar place. It was not much later that afternoon when they rolled onto the beach on Kinikolu’s other side that, in this final week, was also their secret hideaway.

The cool seawater lapped around them as they rolled out of land. Sea was treading water as they swam this far out from the shore – and then something jumped out.

“Guu-ahhh! Who in Triton’s name is this?!” Sea yelled while the foam dissipated. But then the Oceanics captain saw it was a blue marble, whose dark swirls looked too familiar.

“Hiya, Sea! Did you really think I wouldn’t congratulate you before you left?” said the former Oceanic in front of them.

“You freaked me out, Shore,” replied Sea. “And since when could you hold your breath underwater this long?”

Shore had brought towels, and both marbles were laying on them to soak up the rays. The two childhood friends bantered, mostly around Shore’s life after buying out ten acres in the Globular Archipelago. From saving up during their marble sports career, Shore now had property an hour by motorboat from the Globular main island and Dunduei.

The former Oceanic now fills up their day fishing for marcrabs, or watering saplings for a future grove; a life not on the cards until they submitted their resignation in 2022, right after Marbula One ended.

“I knew you would be mad at me, but we were writing letters and calling and it seemed fine,” said Shore. “Then you were the one who stopped reaching out in December.”

“Management got complicated, that’s all,” said Sea. “They were talking halfway during the Showdown about the new athletes I should scout out. It took up all my time. Everyone is getting along now.”

“I saw, Sea! I snuck up on one of the new members when they and the Coach flew in,” said Shore. “They almost burst into song describing training with you. But why are you acting so upset?”

“My feelings don’t matter, Shore,” said Sea. “The Survival trophy is a good way to cap a career. It doesn’t change how I’m at the beginning of the end. Everyone thinks I have one great season left in me. Two if I’m lucky. We can leave it at that.”

With those words, Shore sat up straight and looked right at Sea. “Don’t ‘leave’ anything from me after this long!” said Shore. “Why are you so happy to hide inside yourself, and assume the worst about everyone else?”

“We always had great teamwork, Shore. But you left first. The two of us can never win a Marble League together anymore. I still think about it.”

With those words, Sea sat back up and started to roll in the rainforest’s direction. Behind them was Shore, yelling: “Don’t guilt trip me, Sea! I told you why it was time for me to hang it up. I wanted a second wind in something that’s not professional sports. My time freed up to learn about diving! I still have my deep sea photography to show you and–”

Sea turned around. “It’s not a guilt trip, Shore. I just regret the chances we missed. We should be better remembered than we are. We were good enough.”

Shore bumped into Sea before stopping completely. “My marb, regret isn’t how I’d put it,” they said. “We talked to so many happy fans. We hosted a Marble League. We toured all of Marblearth together. We even won a Winter Special! How many marbles had our luck with all our opportunities?

“And nothing says it’s over for you! Both of us did what was best for us, Sea… we took two different paths, but each path still offers a freedom of choice after all these years. You can make new friends with these teammates. You can make today a new beginning. “

For Sea, Shore’s words brought back memories of 2019, when fans jumped out of the benches and scrawled “NOCEANICS” on their banners. But when was the last time Sea thought about that? The past few days had been filled with overtaking action that pumped Sea up; sights of Oceanics fans cheering during the trophy ceremony; and other athletes congratulating and toasting them.

Sea looked at their phone again, and what was now dozens of unread messages from Neptune and their teammates. Indeed, with each text conversation it was Sea who never replied back.

“I can see you’re right, Shore,” said Sea. “It’ll take time for me to really believe it in my heart. But I am trying.”

Sea heard something vibrate on Shore’s end. “Well… not to change the topic,” said Shore. “But how much free time do you still have?”

“Probably two hours before I have to meet the team. Why?”

“Well… I had this whole plan to take you out of your comfort zone. Ten minutes ago, I sent a text to a fellow athlete. Someone who really admires you. That must be a reply saying they’re here…”

Both Sea and Shore heard a marble holler at them and turned around. It was a marble clothed in pure yellow, gleaming as much under the sun as they did under stadium lights, the only racer next to Sea yesterday out the gate.

“Didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that,” said Yellah. “I just wanted to say… It was a great race with you out there. I wasn’t really familiar with your game.”

“Oh, I could say the same,” said Sea. “Funny how you’re such friends with my buddy before reaching out to me.”

“Well, as I told Shore… I don’t think that last race between us showcased the best of us. I swear the starting gate wasn’t aligned the right way.

“There’s a lovely stretch of sand and shore right here, so…” gestured Yellah to their surroundings. “Why don’t we say we make it best two out of three?”

Sea smiled. “Cool, it’s on.”

(Art Credit: Momoikkai)

Credits

  • Writer: Fouc
  • Copyeditors/Editors: Phoenix, Millim, Stynth
  • Artist: Momoikkai
  • Photo Credits: Jelle’s Marble Runs
  • Reference: Marble Survival 100
  • Release: 11/01/2025

Harmonic Resonance: A Final Interview with the Balls of Chaos’ Old Coach

November 21st, 2024: 9:20, Eccentric’s Apartment

Like many Balls of Chaos fans out here in Hunluen, I was shocked by the sudden rumors that sprung up this morning that the long tenured coach of our Balls of Chaos, Harmony, was stepping down. Did Harmony finally give up on our heroes? Did Entropy give Harmony the boot to try to shake up the organization? Questions swirled like the colors in my sphere, but I knew I had to get to the official press conference to find out more.

    The conference was slated for later today and it was the origin of all these rumors, though until this morning none of them seemed to be too impactful. I’m always the first to the scoop, and to get beaten to reporting on the big rumors was simply unforgivable! I glanced at the time… 9:20? The conference is at 11:00! I’m halfway across the city, and have to deal with rush hour Hunluen traffic… without a moment to lose, I darted out of my modest apartment. My breakfast-in-a-can would have to wait; on a morning like today, I don’t even have the time to spare on the time savers!

    No, no, no! I’m so incredibly late! If I ever see whichever hack of a civil architect designed those interchanges next time I’m on the road, I’m rolling them over! I finally burst through the doors of the press room, only to hear my rivals already deep into badgering Harmony with their drivel.

    “This is Arbitrary, representing ‘Chaos Concourse.’ You’re stepping down because you want more time to enjoy that new Momo Dumpling shop down 35.7th, right? I’ve seen you there. Why are you hiding from us?”
    “I don’t-” Harmony barely can fit in a word before another mic is thrust in front of them:
    “Fractal, ‘Citizen Chaos.’ Is it true that Disarray has incriminating photos of you and Pinky Rosa? Were you blackmailed to leave so that Disarray could become the new coach?”
    “Disarray? What even-”

    “Precipice. Inquiring minds over at ‘Revolution Now!’ want to know: Why are you bad at your job?”

    Finally, Harmony raised their voice. “Nope! That’s it. This was a waste of my time. To summarize: I resign from my position as the coach of the Balls of Chaos indefinitely. There will be no further questions at this time. Good riddance to all of you.”

    The conference room fell into a stunned silence as Harmony rolled backstage, and my heart sank. I’d completely missed my chance. But wait, what was that Arbitrary said about a dumpling shop down 35.7th (that fiend! How did they learn that first)? If Harmony can be found there, maybe I could try my luck there later…

November 22nd, 2024: 9:47, Eccentric’s Apartment

As the sun rose on another day, I had a new mission in mind. In the afternoon of yesterday, what we heard in the press conference became official: Harmony was out as the coach of the Balls of Chaos, while an unknown new face, Yuan Rong, assumed the missing position. Most of the press had moved on to badgering Entropy for more details. Good luck to them! I’ve tried it before, and they’d have better luck getting Imar to try using a Purple for once. Others have tried to seek out this mysterious new “Yuan Rong” individual, but with qualifiers so close, access to the staff quarters of the Chaos for All facility has got to be locked down. Instead, I’m going to live by something Anarchy told me long ago when I was just starting my career: “If you want the unexpected, don’t start by looking somewhere obvious.” It was time to see if I could find a familiar face in the new Momo Dumpling shop. This time, I’ll take the public skyrail.

November 22nd, 2024: 11:50, Outside Momo’s Dumplings

If you were to guess where 35.7th street would be in Hunluen, you’d be forgiven for guessing somewhere in the vicinity of 35th and 36th. But that’s not quite the way this city rolls. I got close to where it should have been, but from there, tracing the steps of the nearby marbles carrying take-out dumpling orders revealed the true location of the new restaurant. On the patio, sitting alone at Table #6 (ordered tables! What a foreign concept!), was a strange marble with thick rimmed glasses and… a fake mustache? But looking carefully, the clean and bundled streaks of color in the marble revealed this to be none other than Harmony, trying to stay low key. Not revealing that I had found them out, I approached: “Mind if I join your table?”


Harmony looked up, silent as I felt them stare into my soul. A single moment stretched into an eternity while I kept my friendly demeanor, revealing nothing. Finally, Harmony broke the silence: “Sure. I haven’t ordered anything yet, though.” 

Sensing an opportunity, I glanced at the menu and offered: “How about the Momomomo special? 4 extra large dumplings, fit to share, and I’ll cover it.” Another week of living off of breakfast-in-a-cans for me, but this profession demands sacrifices.

“A generous offer, Eccentric. I accept.”

What?

“I recognize you from the press group,” they continued. “I can tell my disguise isn’t fooling you, I know you’re here to ask me some questions. But you’re one of the only reporters to interview my athletes, and not have them ask me later to ban you from the facility. That’s worth something. So, I’m willing to play along. Plus, you just offered to buy me lunch. We both know who’s probably doing better right now; I can cover it.”

Flustered and desperately trying to still hold some cards from my rapidly deteriorating strategy, I protested: “No, please, I insist.” 

“Suit yourself,” came Harmony’s reply. “But let’s eat first, I’m starving.” Thankful that the Arms of Chaos turned out so well for me today despite my botched entry, I rolled inside to place the order.

(Art Credit: Harumi)

November 22nd, 2024: 12:24, Momo’s Dumplings Patio

    “Wow, these really are splendid dumplings. But while I finish, feel free to go ahead and start asking” Harmony finally said, after minutes of gorging from the both of us.

“Honestly, I was ready to do a lot of listening,” I replied. “You’ve been the coach of the Balls of Chaos since their inception. Stepping down now feels monumentous, even with their… subpar outings as of late. And at the press conference yesterday, it felt like you barely got a word in amidst all the badgering, though I certainly arrived late. If you’ve got a story to tell, something you think might still give some hope to Hunluen’s fans of chaos, I’d love to hear it.” I was treated to that same cold, evaluating stare I received at the beginning of this restaurant conversation. “So, to start you off, why choose to step down now, mere days from the most important day of the year?” Harmony broke their gaze on me and thought for a long moment.

“Change is chaos. Chaos must change,” they finally replied. “That’s the point I’ve been trying to drive home to the athletes for this entire year, practically. First, I needed to change how the teammates saw each other. Anarchy barely acknowledged Disarray until recently, and I had never put them together in duo events to bridge that gap.”

“The Marbula One roster,” I realized. “I lost sleep trying to figure out why we didn’t at least run Clutter in that.”

“I didn’t want to ease into it,” they continued. “That would open the door to walking it back after a discouraging start, and to keep trodding the same worn-down path. I threw Anarchy and Disarray right into the fire.”

“And they got torched!” I retorted.

“Oh, we knew that Anarchy’s strong suit wasn’t in those kinds of endurance events. Disarray was more of an enigma, but expectations overall weren’t high. My decisions were more long-term thinking. But now they know how to work together, how to train together. Anarchy wanted to prove they weren’t washed up, and Disarray still felt like a reserve at heart, especially with the lack of acknowledgement from their former captain. Tumult was always more diplomatic about teammate relations, but Anarchy’s still got the revolutionary spirit that keeps the Arms of Chaos flowing.” This certainly wasn’t news to me; having interviewed both those marbles on separate occasions, one spiked my heart rate far less. “They’re not happy with how they did together after all that work,” Harmony continued, “and I think that lit a fire under them. I’ve asked Yuan Rong to put them in as a duo for the upcoming Marble League Qualifiers, an opportunity I think they’ll accept.”

“So if getting the former captain and former reserve to work together was part one, what did the former coach do next?” I quipped.

“I’m glad you asked, but I’m almost done with this meal, and I really must be going… No, I jest. I’ll finish my story. It’s nice to speak at length for once without either getting shot down by one of the athletes or asked to fill a tabloid headline by one of your ilk.”

“Hey! The Hunluen Herald doesn’t associate-” I start, but another chuckle across the table stops my complaint. Why was Harmony the one laughing here? I’m not the one eating dumplings in a ridiculous disguise! Though as I glanced around at the restaurant patrons, the comical disguise almost fit right in with all the baffling wardrobes on display and the only marbles that stood out were the staff of the eatery. Harmony might be cleverer than I’ve given them credit for, in many of my deadline-influenced hit pieces…

Harmony continued, snapping me out of my contemplation. “The second part of this former coach’s plan was to turn our Primary rivals into… former rivals.” My mind went racing again, just as soon as it had calmed down.

“You can’t seriously mean fraternizing with those, those… snobs!” I exclaimed. And to think I was starting to give Harmony credit! But they retorted quickly.

“Let’s not blow that sound bite out of proportion, please. I don’t think a single marble on our team doesn’t enjoy the prospect of a face-off with our similarly colored competitors, myself included. But we’ll never succeed by just focusing on a single team to beat. Take the Savage Speedway GP from this most recent season. You watched it, yes?”

“Ugh, let me think… I don’t remember Anarchy doing well in that race, but I wasn’t assigned to that story. The details are hazy,” I mumbled, Hazers pun notwithstanding.

“Let me fill you in, then. Anarchy started near the bottom, with Aryp close to them near the basement. Anarchy struggled early, while Aryp made some great overtakes and found themselves in the top quarter. That got Anarchy’s competitive spirit firing on all cylinders, and by the midpoint of the race, they managed to pass Aryp and were sitting provisionally in third!” Harmony exclaimed. For the first time in our meeting, Harmony sounded genuinely proud. “But it didn’t last. On the comms, I was trying to help Anarchy find lines to gain ground on Siren, but Anarchy was too concentrated on trying to make sure Aryp didn’t pass them back. It almost felt like Anarchy was letting the rest of the field catch up, just so they could see with their own eyes that they were in front of Aryp. It wasn’t a high bar in the end; Aryp finished that race in 19th, but Anarchy had sunk back down into the bottom half looking for them.”

“A great success for us still, I’d say!” I exclaimed, between bites. Our plates were nearing their end.

“On an imaginary scoreboard, sure,” Harmony replied. “But for the Balls of Chaos to find new success, they need to move beyond just doing well enough to jeer at Team Primary. Leave them in the dust if it comes to it. Because if we’re ever going to win the Marble League, it’s not Secondary’s team we need to beat, but White Eye’s, or Quickly’s.”

Attempting to summarize, I started: “So you wanted to change their friends and their foes. Why step down, then? Did they disagree?”

“I don’t think they’ll ever totally lose their competitive drive against Primary, but overall, they seemed receptive to my ideas. And that’s why I had to step down, as a final strengthening to my point. Everything can change. And chaos must change. I don’t feel like I have anything left to teach that group, so I asked Yuan Rong to take my place.”

“I’ve been wondering who that marble is,” I wondered, “along with the rest of the press. They’re probably trying to find them, which is why I thought I’d try to find you instead.”

“Just a family friend,” Harmony answered. “They’ve always been my outlet for the frustrations the team has put me through, and they’ve had a fair number of criticisms of my methods. I figured they could give it a shot, and I promise you, it’s as hard as you think it is and then some. It’s a fresh perspective for both them and the team, at any rate.”

“Makes sense, but why now and not after the qualifiers?” I wondered aloud.
“Because we can’t react. We must act quickly and in ways that nobody can see coming. For that is the essence of chaos. Now, I think I’m done eating, and you very generously offered to pick up the bill, so if you’ll excuse me.” Harmony was gone before I even had the chance to fully process their final words to me. To act and not react… that was almost a roasting of my entire profession! Maybe Harmony was all talk, and their real goal was to get out of the spotlight fearing another dismal qualifier. But also, maybe they were onto something indeed. It was about time to head back to my apartment in the east, but something about Harmony’s final words still resonated with me. Why be predictable all the time? Maybe it was time to act first, in a new way. I’m sure I’d find my way home eventually, but why not roll north. Just to see what’s there. Should probably pay that bill first, though.

Credits

  • Writers: Mesp
  • Copyeditors/Editors: Phoenix, Smacg13, Milton
  • Artist: Harumi
  • Release: 04/01/2025

ML2024 Memo #2: War and Ice

Under fluorescent lights, Snowdrift and Snowblast wandered the labyrinthine corridors of the Moraine Domain full of bubbling, mutual excitement, silver medals glinting in unison. 

“You know, I feel bad it wasn’t Snowfall with me, but maybe it’s a good thing we get to be apart. You’re a fun teammate,” mused Snowdrift excitedly. “And now I finally have a medal!” 

“It’s a great feeling, isn’t it?” declared Snowblast, giving Snowdrift a friendly nudge. “Seriously, after MS100, you totally deserve it.” 

“I mean, you were amazing — I didn’t do much,” Snowdrift laughed dismissively, even as an irrepressible smile overtook them. Twirling and laughing and rejoicing in the joy of victory, it wasn’t troubling to admit the disparity in their scores. It all counted for the same. 

“I couldn’t have done it without you! It was you who gave me the strength to succeed, Snowdrift!” Snowblast declared abruptly, not a hint of irony in their voice as it echoed around them. 

Snowdrift stopped dead still, leaving Snowblast to briefly roll ahead. “Come on, that’s not true. You’re getting that from some cartoon, I bet.” 

Snowblast paused, diffusing the tension with a casual wave. “They did add our scores up.” 

Snowdrift didn’t budge. “Will Snowy see it that way?” 

At the other end of the corridor, Snowy darted back behind the wall from behind which they had observed the entire conversation. “They were talking about me,” they whispered. “Ugh, I can’t do this anymore.”

“Sure you can,” Snowstorm said. “Just go in like we planned, and say it… I’m proud of you.” 

Jump and Bounce didn’t even need to get off the podium to start celebrating. 

“So, this podium: it’s the podium of the last M1 season, but reversed, and we’re on top!” 

“So, we’re the Hazers?” asked Bounce, giggling at the thought. 

Jump nodded. “Yep!” 

“Okay, what would the Hazers say right now? Let’s think…” After a moment of contemplation, they forced their face into a steely grimace. “No, you can’t know anything about Mt. Huaze! Even if you ask nicely! You’re too boring to understand its secrets!” 

“Oh, very accurate,” giggled Jump, eagerly following Bounce’s lead. “Ah! Help! I can’t push this invisible block!” they cried, miming a vain attempt to shove an imagined object out of the way. Bounce joined them, but even between their combined “strength” it was futile. 

“It’s no good… Let’s start sneaking around and observing other marbles instead, hm?” laughed Jump, rolling backwards in an affectation of helplessness. 

“I call dibs on the Chocolatiers,” declared Bounce. “Oh, wait, if we’re the Hazers we should spy on the Speeders.” 

“Nah, if the Speeders have a fight it’ll be on the news,” countered Jump.

Unbeknownst to the duo, as they chattered about their snooping, they themselves were being observed. Yellow Eye and Green Eye hadn’t even needed to hide themselves to go unnoticed. 

“They’re winning by a ten-point margin, but they’re not taking it seriously at all…” Green Eye surmised, pouting. “So embarrassing for us.” 

Yellow Eye watched the two get further into the bit with a sneer. “So embarrassing? So what. We’re the ones who’ll hold it.” 

“Alright, so, here’s the plan —  sneak past them, leave them to their thing, and vanish like we were never there, got it? We didn’t get into their drink-throwing during M1, and we don’t have to do it now.” 

Still shrouded in the shadows of the stadium’s backstage, Quacky and Ducky exchanged barely-visible skeptical glances. “Sure they won’t try to involve us? I mean, y’said that their arguments were downright nuclear, yeah?” 

Mallard shrugged and waved vaguely, unknowingly narrowly avoiding whacking Billy square in the side. “It’s the best plan I have that doesn’t involve sending Goose in as a distraction, alright?” 

“I wish I’d just thrown the shooting section,” Quacky grumbled half-jokingly, just to be admonished with a firm nudge from Ducky, who coughed before beginning to speak. 

“Mallard’s right. This doesn’t involve us, and this place smells of paint, so the quicker we leave the better.” 

Everyone nodded. Billy, who had been tasked with initiating their escape, drew close to the exit onto the now-emptied out stadium field, and with great hesitation cracked the heavy insulated doors open. Though distant, shouting voices were already audible, confirming what Mallard and Billy had suspected from the start —  the Crazy Cat’s Eyes were in an all-out argument with… 

…the Savage Speeders? But they’d lost… 

All four Green Ducks filtered tentatively out from the backstage and onto the pitch, drowned out by the flinging of insults and unnoticed by either party. As they snuck past, they were able to draw surprisingly close, becoming party to the heated disagreement. 

“It doesn’t even matter what you say, because when Quickly gets ahold of you, Velocity, you’re probably getting booted out anyway,” laughed Yellow Eye, a meaner, crooked version of the crowd-pleasing giggle they trotted out during interviews. 

“You don’t know anything. Me and coach are cool, yeah? Anyway, I bet it’s your fault somehow, ‘cause I was cracked during training,” retorted Velocity, apparently at ease with the misfire that had stunned their fan crowd into silence. 

“We’re allergic to the fur you get everywhere,” Swifty added.

Speedy drew closer to Red Eye, who refused to yield at the imposition. “You won an event everyone knows you excel in. Congratulations. But I don’t think about you when I think about consistency.” 

Red Eye bared their fangs. “I’ll make you.” 

“Try, then, if you want to embarrass yourself so badly. Prove yourself to me.” 

Geez, Quacky thought. How do the twins even stay sane putting up with this all the time? And wasn’t it supposed to be the Snowballs?

It was a good day for a clear night. 

During the depths of winter, even the most southerly point of Glidavik experienced but a few hours of daylight each day. Tonight the northern lights were predicted to be out in full force, and Snowy wasn’t going to miss their chance at seeing them without the light pollution of Snoronto interrupting the view. 

The Glaciers had offered to take them out to the ice fields on Glacie’s old boat —  which meant the Glaciers coming, but that was a small price to pay for getting away from all the other teams, and especially Red Eye. They were mostly talking amongst themselves anyway, rehashing a previous conversation about something-or-other to do with the house. 

Despite the season, the waters were gentle, reflecting the sky’s assortment of colors over the deep darkness below. It was nothing new for either team to see the northern lights, but out here, surrounded by the perfect solitude of frigid waters with no phone signal or city lights to intercede, it was indelibly different.

Though they gazed out across the distance towards an imposing plateau of compact ice, Snowy remained vaguely aware of Snowfall’s presence nearby. Whereas Snowstorm would undoubtedly have the confidence to come right up to them, were they not conversing with Snowblast over on the boat’s starboard, Snowfall kept a good, formal distance. Observing their teammate out of the corner of their eye, they felt a sense of gratefulness wash over them. The Snowballs had excelled enough in the skiing portion that they hadn’t needed a bullseye the way the Ducks had, but the Savage Speeders had made themselves a great example of what could happen if the shooter was lulled into a false sense of security. Snowfall hadn’t let that happen.

“Can you see the northern lights in Osnow?” Snowy asked, awkwardly and unexpectedly loud. Snowfall turned slowly, not quite believing that their captain would elect to fill the silence between them. 

Eventually they summoned up the confidence to speak. “Yes… But they’re better in my hometown, which is further north. I’m not actually from Osnow originally.” 

Snowy found themself nodding along unconsciously, warmed by embarrassment at not knowing previously. 

“Well… Go on, then. Tell me about it.” 

“Alright, alright —  settle down, everyone. Thank you all for your perfect attendance today; it’s great to see. Without further ado, please welcome your speaker for the evening, Fudge!” 

As Whizzy departed the stage, the Chocolatiers’ reserve took their place, a harried and dog-eared bundle of notes by their side and a gold medal still looped around them. After a quick mic-check they drew the crowd to attention with a sharp ahem. 

“Thanks, Whizzy. I’m honored to be able to speak to you all, and I don’t take it for granted. I’m only the fifth reserve to have medalled in this League, and while mine is the first solo gold, let’s not let that take away from what Ruzzy, Bounce, Snowblast and Sheep have achieved.” 

Measured applause began and ended in orderly fashion, in the midst of which Polar turned to their neighbour and murmured, “Are these meetings always this formal?” 

“No,” replied Goose, the last to finish clapping. “It’s usually party games.” 

“Everyone understands their reserve-hood differently, personally and philosophically,” continued Fudge, “but the reality of being a reserve is that our opportunities are often less and our authority almost always is. We struggle to assert what we want and we often may not get it. Perhaps that’s the trade we make for assuming lesser responsibility in our team —  usually —  but it can grate, and it may feel that medalling is too distant of a prospect.”

The audience nodded amongst themselves, even those who wore their own medals proudly. 

“I was myself mostly relegated to doing duo events; not necessarily because I wanted to, but because my teammates trusted themselves better. But I took charge of my own destiny in qualifiers, and I took charge of it again here, and all of you have the potential to do the same. I hope that next time, when decisions are being made in your team, you won’t forget your own desires, or the potential you have to shape your own career.” 

Another round of applause followed, longer and more passionate. Fudge mirrored the audience’s smiles, a marked contrast to their usual self-seriousness. 

“Plus, even if you don’t medal, you still might get to go one-to-one with Red Eye.” 

Their audience approved even more of that, laughing louder than they had clapped —  all except for Murky, who was quiet until Whizzy returned to the stage and the crowd itself had quieted down. “Wait, why were you picking on Red Eye? They don’t deserve that.” 

The quiet crowd became briefly silent, and then broke out all at once in a rash of unbridled, shared laughter. Murky turned desperately to the back of the crowd. 

“Cyan Eye?” they called out, barely audible, only to find the CCE reserve laughing hardest of anyone, shedding a single tear. 

“Sorry, Murky,” apologized Fudge, having left the stage. “It’s just… it’s too funny!” 

But why? thought Murky, their mind drifting back to Kinikolu and the tears they lost to the wind. 

Credits