antebellum [t. riddle]

lxix

march 1945
brief graphic depictions of violence

time seemed to waste away so much slower when there was nothing to do.

it was incredibly refreshing to finally be given a rest. eileen seemed to be childishly ignoring her until she was needed again, or for some other reason sicaria couldn't figure out. it could have perhaps been because of her seemingly endless slew of new promotions and responsibilities they entailed. or maybe there was some other plot sicaria was not yet privy to. regardless of the motive for it, sicaria was glad to have the break.

outside of her classes, she dedicated a small amount of time to research, but there was practically nothing to investigate. it was rather calm all around— news of grindelwald still ran rampant, but there were fewer deaths. she hadn't even received any more threats from him. she now owed nothing to dumbledore, and while it was nice to have some peace of mind, she did miss being in the know. the only notion saving her was that no matter how disappointed he may have been with her, he'd still tell her anything of importance. he wasn't cruel, she reminded herself, he just made promises and sacrifices that weren't his to make.

there was a serenity to this kind of fear. it wasn't really positive. it just wasn't negative.

the whole world seemed to decelerate for just a few days, and it was marvelous. sicaria couldn't help but want to bask in this incredible sensation she'd never felt before. the earth was spinning on it axis just a bit slower for a few days, and for once, she didn't have to run to keep up with it. it was more eerie than anything, because nothing had actually changed. neither side was winning or losing any more than they had been before; things just seemed to pause.

which was why when abraxas invited her to stay with his family during easter, she didn't hesitate to say yes. she remembered how certain she'd been in december that it would be the end, that their friendship would be so destroyed by this time that he wouldn't even consider asking her. how very wrong her past self was. she had been so miserable at christmas. so constantly anguished and emotionally overwhelmed that this light, airy feeling was something completely foreign to her.

but look at them now. so much had changed in so little time, and it was freeing for sicaria to finally be able to force herself not to worry. the threat was always still there, present in the back of her mind, but at times she could put it aside and live in the present, ignoring the future. there was still that impending sense of doom, but it was easier to ignore during the fleeting moments of bliss as opposed to the unending cycle of misery.

and yet, despite how genuinely content she was, the boys still seemed to think something was off. it was like they thought she should be happy, but not too happy, considering the situation. they didn't need to say it— every time adonis or adrien looked at her, she could feel it. they feared that she was bottling up her emotions and pretending to be happy to appease them, and then that her mind would collapse under the pressure it took to occlude all her negative thoughts away. regardless of that, even when she was constantly voicing her fears and suspicions, they chastised her for being too negative. it was like any expression of her emotions wasn't satisfactory for them, but as long as they kept quiet, sicaria didn't care what they thought.

for all content moments in the day, the nightmares appeared to take it upon themselves to douse any inch of serenity with unending visions of misery. a few nights back, she had awoken from a nightmare in the hospital wing, healer miranda and tom watching over her as she tried to understand what had happened in her sleep. the nightmares happened so frequently that she started to notice (or perhaps, imagine) the effects of sleepless nights she caused on tom. once, she'd said offhandedly that she should start sleeping on her own again, tom had threatened her to never suggest such a foolish thing again.