Set the Truth Ablaze: KotLC Oneshots

Dexaleen

Hiiiii! Not me writing Dexaleen when I should be working on two oneshot contests I haven't even started yet, hehe. Here, have this fluff, I'm kinda proud ;) Please comment as much as you can :D

READ OVERLOOKED BY @stardippedink ASAP, I COULD NOT PUT IT DOWN. HER USERNAME IS BEAUTIFUL AND HER WRITING IS EVEN MORE BEAUTIFUL (and her laugh is really pretty, lolz, luv you!) 

*Overlooked Spoilers* 

The whole sky is alight with a million silver embers but all I can look at is her.

I dream of Her.

Not nightmares. Not the same ones I'd had of seeing her die in my arms. Not the ones vivid with her blood and blank eyes, the ones that jolted me awake in cold sweat when we were still stuck in the Neverseen. Not the same ones I fear every night.

Just . . . dreams. Her crafty grin, the sweetness in her sharp eyes, the adorable crease forming between her eyebrows when she's picking apart someone's secrets like a matter of sorting hats, the way she blows her hair out of her eyes when she's focusing intently. She's all I can think of.

I close my eyes, and if I concentrate hard enough, I can feel Rosaleen's hand in mine, our fingers tangling like broken puzzle pieces that somehow fit.

The only thing I can think of is her as I stare at my blank imparter screen. Her name echoes in my head, and with it comes a soft wave of warmth, of the memory of her sweet smile, her melodic laughter.

I've been thinking of her for the last hour.

It's 2 a.m.

She's called me at worse times.

Before I can stop myself, I hail her.

It rings.

Again.

Again.

. . . she doesn't pick up.

What did I expect? It's 2 a.m. What am I doing, curled up in a pile of my comforters and fluffy blankets, holding my imparter and imagining Rosaleen there as I capture every detail of her dancing eyes in a picture I'll never take?

Go to sleep, I tell myself, but I can't. She's the only thought that comes to mind, and if I sink into the memory of her, I don't want to face the disappointment of waking up.

I sigh, and tug my cloak over my shoulders, slipping my imparter in my pocket. I've been taking midnight walks a lot lately. Oftentimes I think of the way Rosaleen and I would tell stories for hours until the moon was ascending high upon its throne as we drew closer to each other in the loneliness of being surrounded by people we're supposed to hate. Other times I remember the night Dad and I spoke before the mission, voices quiet and raspy with sleep.

And sometimes I think of how I'm back home, back with my family, and yet, I'm homesick. I'm not sure why.

During the mission, I used to think of the pranks I'd play with the triplets when I got back home, the stories I'd tell Dad, the smiles I'd promise Mom, but those were only fantastical ideas. I'm still lonely, silenced, overlooked. I always have been. It's okay, but it makes my heart ache sometimes.

The door opens with a light groan and I slip outside.

Instantly, cool air whispers against my skin. It's not winter anymore, but Rimeshire is still a bit chilly, and the snow has settled with the wind.

It's quiet, and I like it. Reminds me of the silence that used to blanket Rosaleen and me in the night when we'd run out of things to say and ended up listening to each other breathe once the sound of our voices had faded.