We're Burning (Frerard)

13. Gerard Way Is Not Okay - Check Again in Three Business Days

„The greatest glory in living lies not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall." - Nelson Mandela

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Sometimes, much like Gerard, Lindsey questioned. She still believed in their gods, unlike many others who had lost their beliefs at the sight of pain, slavery and no coming rescue. She still prayed - when the dark had finally fallen over the horizon, whispering of night and casting shadows to hide her clasped hands.

Lindsey still believed that one day the gods would have had enough of their pain and pleading voices, and would come save them. She still believed her elders' words, that the gods will come down to the earth in a storm of magic and fury, and free them all from the suffocating clutch the humans had on them.

Yet she could see why it was hard to keep believing, blinded by pain and chains that weighed down their feet. Feet that used to tap lightly on the ground to the sound of cheerful music as they danced, the fabrics of their traditional clothes rustling around.

Lindsey was afraid to admit she might have started to forget the way these clothes looked.

It had been so many years, since the humans rulers of Afrana had taken control over the elves that lived there. Since humans had made clear that being an elf was no better than being a criminal. So, so many years of pain since humans had taken them all in chains and destroyed their homes. Yet still help had not come, not from anyone, and especially not from the gods.

But when the time had come that Lindsey began to lose all hope, and her hands fell down by her sides instead of clasping together to send a prayer to who seemed to have abandoned her, she'd been given a spark of hope. One that lit a tiny flame which burned steadily inside her chest, in tune with her heartbeat and coursing through her veins with gold.

It had been a long way to reaching the point where that flame burned steadily, and did not falter at each sound of footsteps. But the struggle and effort had both been worth the outcome, and Lindsey could simply not see an alternative in which that flame didn't burn.

Such a world, she reckoned, was one that would leave her cold and freezing until she was brought to the brink of death, and then it would push her past it for death's skeletal hands to take. She doubted it would have any regrets at her loss.

Curiously watching Gerard's soundly sleeping form, Lindsey brought her hand to his head and carded her fingers through his soft hair, scratching at his scalp lightly. It was impressive, albeit concerning, she thought, how easily he'd managed to heal himself without even noticing. Especially seeing as he had never been taught to use his gift.

Even back before so many elves had been slaughtered, healers weren't the most common. Usually there were only a couple or so families in a village with that gift, Lindsey had inherited it from her grandmother, Gerard from his father, she knew.

Despite that, other elves had different abilities; most had either a great way with plants and herbs, and others the same with animals.

With help from someone who knew what they were doing, Gerard could easily help many others of their kind. Lindsey couldn't deny that thought, especially not after seeing him heal himself with such ease. If they could somehow get him to see beyond the risks, and move him to the Eye of Sye's refugee camp… she was sure many elves would be grateful for his help.

Lindsey would have done it herself, but she'd never been and would never be a healer such as her grandmother.

Her ability to heal, Lindsey knew, met the limits at cuts and bruises, fractures too sometimes. Even having healed Gerard's bruised ribs back what seemed like years ago, had taken the energy out of her. It was not easy, although worth it. And if Gerard was able to heal himself without being properly taught how and with no side effects, she could tell he'd be capable of a lot with help.