Crows and Crooked Tiaras

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE: THE CROWS

NARRATOR'S POV

Luna has never been given the opportunity to be squeamish; her entire life seems to be made of blood. Touching it, manipulating it, being controlled by the traditions it brings. She's seen so much blood, touched so much of it--let the red stickiness of it stain her skin that she is no longer affected by it. Sometimes, in secret and in shame, Luna wonders if she'll always be stained by it; sometimes at night, when she is trying to sleep, she can feel every drop of blood that's ever touched her so clearly she's suffocated by it.

Knowing this is the only thing that makes Luna's trip with Kaz bearable; no matter what dark things she sees in the barrel, gore will not impact her. If gore could hurt her she would have died as a child, when her guardians started to bring her the sick and injured so she could perform miracles, saving people who regular healers had given up on.

A particular instance in which Luna was ten and she was asked to reattach the hand of a dignitary who was bleeding out. The sight had nauseated her, but she was forced to get over that--forced to touch the detached hand of a strange man that she was not allowed to eat dinner with.

It isn't always bad. Luna has learned to like healing, it is a way to put good into the world...to undo pain, to be able to extend kindness in such a physical, and true way.

"You know," Luna begins, partially because the walk to wherever they are has been too quiet, "I could heal your leg." It's an awkward offer, but a genuine one. She wonders why he hasn't ordered her or even asked her to do so. Normally the second people find out about her abilities they bombard her with thousands of requests from papercuts to scars to ligaments that never healed right. "It wouldn't hurt, I'm sure you could still keep your cane for aesthetic purposes if you want." She wrinkles her nose, not liking the silence, "I hear the healing process is itchy, though."

Kaz looks her over in a stiff way. Is this some type of tactic? "I don't need any favors."

Luna wrinkles her eyebrows. Never had anyone considered her healing a favor, it's always been an assumed thing. It's always just been something she's been required to do, another part of her that is not her own. "I've never heard anyone consider it a favor."

"What do they consider it?"

Luna shrugs, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, "I guess it's an expectation." She scratches the back of her arm in realization that everything from her is an expectation. "But what isn't?"

"I expect you to act mature when we go into the building. No asking questions, limit your talking, and from now on you only use your abilities at my command--and you use them without question when I tell you to."

Luna frowns...Once again her body is not hers. The weight of this constricts her chest. Is her destiny to always be owned in one way or another? Memories of her father, businessmen, and lack of control flood her mind.

"What?"

Luna shakes her head once stiffly. The welt on her face starts to ache. "Nothing." Asshole, but in a different way than normal--a way that actually bothers Luna. "For the record I can't exactly do the pain thing instantly."

"What?"

In an attempt to get into that headspace that allows herself to become property, Luna presses her lips together. "I haven't used it enough--I don't have full control of it." Kaz sighs once, and Luna is even more annoyed. "Sorry for the inconvenience, feel free to cut your losses and slit my throat."

Dirtyhands is ready to point out that he's genuinely considering it, but when Kaz turns his head he notices something strange about Luna's posture. There's a strange deflation to her stance, unlike her...as if she's not here. Kaz wonders if this has to do with the prospect of dying, but when Kaz actually had a knife to her throat, ready to end her--she had been taller than ever.