Even In The Grave, All Is Not Lost

Winter Time

Trigger Warning: suicidal thoughts, dissociation, child abuse (I mean, this is in most chapters so. . .)

. . .

"There were thirst and hunger, and you were the fruit. There were grief and the ruins, and you were the miracle."

— Pablo Neruda

. . .

Things between Raven and Luna had been. . . different since the chess match. Distant, in a way. When they spoke, she got the vague impression that Raven didn't entirely know what to say to her. Sometimes she would look up and find Raven watching her, only to be met by the whip of her ponytail as she quickly turned away.

Luna wished she could chalk it up to wounded pride, residual irritation over having been outmaneuvered - she was used to such responses from her childhood - but she knew the real reason lay in far more troubling waters.

"You're still struggling with what I told you about the Conclave," Luna murmured on the second day of these proceedings, for once her patience failing her.

She'd resolved to let things fall how they may, to give Raven time to come to terms with what she'd heard, but the atmosphere of the lab was getting to her. The stark lights - brighter than anything Luna had ever encountered - blaring all night and all day, threw her into a surreal world that existed without either. She kept herself from Abby and Jackson, too out of sorts to endure the many conversations that only ever seemed to revolve around her blood.

The constant reminder of the black in her veins was. . . excruciating.

Back at the mansion, she felt like an interloper, an alien playing at a life that hadn't existed for almost a hundred years. Everything in that house was as clean and sterile as the lab, everything had its place. When Luna wandered its halls, she felt the distance of the sea and her former life surround her, press in on her. Emori and John kept to themselves, seeming to have no interest in her or any of the other occupants on the island, so she gave them their space. Luna would not intrude on what might just be their final moments on this earth.

But it expanded the gaping hole of loneliness inside her, sharpening the ache of all that was missing from her life.

For years, her days had been full of people, of love. Space was a luxury not often found on the oil rig and whilst that had been difficult to adjust to at first, over time she'd grown accustomed to it - reliant on it, even. She was used to turning corners and being overwhelmed by the presence of others: the cacophony of shouts and laughter; dancing out of the way as children dashed past, blind to all in their path; waking to Adria's face hovering over her, impatient for her company; and falling asleep to the heavy chorus of over fifty breaths, comforted by the reminder of the safety and peace she'd found - the love.

There was none of that here. Her life, which had once been so full, now felt devastatingly empty. She could feel the gaping holes in the fabric of it and tried not to fall through them as she tiptoed along the precarious remains - the skeleton of her existence.

It was hard to grasp - how quickly it had all changed. Within the single phase of a moon, everything had been lost. Irrevocably so.

(should she not be used to that by now, though? Had she not suffered the same after her Conclave? She had grown complacent during her time in Floukru, forgetting the transience of things, how unstable the material of her world really was.

She would not make that mistake again)

Luna often found herself losing time. The world drifting away as thoughts of her family and friends filled her mind. She felt the press of Adria's hug and would blink at its passing, reorienting herself to find that hours had passed and she couldn't account for any of them.