Of Smoke and Dust 🖋

Chapter Thirteen: a game of life, leonie's whispers, and a sea of broken wings

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Present

June 4th 2021

4:01 PM

Maia sits on the edge of her bed, tense and straight-backed, a bird ready to take flight at the slightest wrong step. 

(Only, Maia doesn't know how to fly any longer. Leonie was her wings, and now Leonie is-

Not gone.

Her best friend is not gone.)

Renata stands, and it's yet another power play - Maia's, this time. Maybe Renata's, too.

Maybe Leonie's.

Renata standing showcases Maia's power in Maia's territory. She didn't offer Renata a seat, and so Renata didn't take one.

Instead, Renata looms over her, red hair framing shrewd, clever eyes. Anyone would be a fool to dismiss her, and yet-

How did Maia, the first time around?

"So." Renata says, and her voice, slightly rough with emotion, is the only thing about her that gives away how affected she is by the topic they are slowly, carefully dancing around. "Maia Eleanor Owens."

"Just Maia, please." Maia's voice is sugary, practically dripping in its clear institution that these polite courtesies are just that - courtesies. "We're close friends, after all." It's easy, this familiar game of back-and-forth. It helps Maia forget about-

About-

Leonie.

Leonie, who has come back. Who has given her a second chance.

Leonie, who is not gone, and so there is no reason to mourn, no reason to cry-

But Renata doesn't know this. Renata hasn't seen Leonie.

And she isn't crying.

Granted, she's probably fighting all emotion back specifically for this purpose, and it has been four days since-

(don't think about that. Don't, don't, don't)

"Then I must insist you call me Nat." Renata smiles gently in return. The scratchy, thick voice has disappeared, and in its place is a lilting cadence that rolls over the words and turns them into a melody. Maia's lips curls. "All my close friends do. That included Leonie, of course."

Leonie's spirit is laughing in the corner, and Maia's eyes dart over to her unwillingly. To Renata, it must seem that she's very interested in the pile of dirty clothes abandoned on the floor (from yesterday, and the day before and the day before that, when Maia was so broken and she couldn't stop crying and her chest felt tight and suffocated and she couldn't breathe because Leonie was gone and Maia was drowning now that she didn't have anyone to hold onto-). 

Her eyes are on Leonie. Leonie's eyes are on her.

The shade's hair is tied back into two lovely plaited braids, her t-shirt sunny yellow and smudged with something black that must be ash. Her freckles stand out, prominent against her nose.

She's amused, watching her two closest friends wage war on each other. In fact, she's delighted. It shows on every line of her pale, barely-there face.

Maia isn't sure what she thinks about this.

"Of course." Maia agrees, tearing her eyes away from the corner. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Leonie drifting closer, curiosity displayed for anyone to read, which surely means the emotion is fake. She tries her best to ignore the ghost of the girl Leonie used to be. "You and Leonie were close, weren't you?"