❛ the ground. that's the dream. ❜
On the list 𝘓𝘺𝘳𝘢 𝘑𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘛𝘰𝘱 𝘛𝘦𝘯 𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘔𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘖𝘧 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘦, getting arrested is definitely up there. But, hey! At least there's a silver lining ━━ getting shoved into a drops...
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ALL HER LIFE, Lyra has been told that she's a little bit dreamy.
Head in the clouds, no weight on her shoulders. Skipping through the motions, a careless confidence centering her to the corridors of the Ark instead of the artificial gravity. Starry-eyed in every sense of the word. Experiencing everything in her own universe. Feeling alone. Feeling connected. Feeling longing. Feeling nothing. Feeling everything.
All her life, Lyra has been told that she's a little dreamy. But she likes the idea of that.
Of being somewhere else.
Especially right now.
Because newsflash! Reality sucks.
Unconsciousness refuses to claim her. She cannot sleep. It's been hours since she watched the Exodus ship crash, the vessel engulfed by swirling scarlet flames as fire devoured it whole. Sitting there with Bellamy in the freezing shadows, she hardly felt him. She was anesthetized to his touch. And then, when her eyes were sore, when her tears became sticky against her skin, when she couldn't take it anymore, she took off. If she'd stayed still any longer, she knew she would explode.
It's brought her here. To the crash site.
(Fate is cruel.)
A metal skeleton scrapes the skies. Haloed in wisps of smoke. Bursting with dying flames.
"In peace may you leave the shore," she whispers in a terrible, ragged, small voice. "In love may you find the next. Safe passage on your travels until our final journey to the ground. May we meet again"
Even the skies above are mourning.
Pale, sickly sunlight filters through ashen clouds that fog all the way to the horizon. Winds snarl with bitter frost, sending sleets of rain drizzling against Lyra's skin like a blanket of damp steel the moment she'd stepped foot from the cover of the forest to the ring of destruction and ash the crash had caused. Sinking to the earth, gravitating towards her sallow cheeks.
Dead eyed and empty and alone, she walks slowly and agonizingly through the graveyard.
A charred skeleton snaps beneath her feet. Smoke burns at her raw eyes. Hiking up the steep slope of the massacre, a white dwarfs aching where her heart should be, she reaches the blackened RCS thrusters. Unhinged from the rest of the ship that's in tatters around the morgue. Dark pink trickles from thrusters and pools on the bloodied stones. Hydrazine. Leftover fuel.
