The Angel of the Fairies (Fairy tail fanfiction)

Chapter 15 - Let My Words Hold You Until My Arms Finally Can

Chapter 15

Let My Words Hold You Until My Arms Finally Can

In Lucy's dreams the apocalypse was everything she feared; the world slowly breaking beneath her feet, the air so thick it clung to her lungs like honey, making it impossible to breath. She had dreamed the tangy smell of cooper so strong that it still remained clawing at her senses when she woke. Screams would tear trough the smoky air like knifes, with pleas for salvation, just to become a mere echo.

That was what Lucy had expected and had honestly prepared for. What she had not prepared for it to be deathly quiet. Snow-flakes of ash rained softly from the sky, landing in her hair and quickly staining her hair a dirty blonde. What seemed to be hundreds of fires, flared high to the sky, devouring everything in its path.

Lucy screamed. Screamed so much that the foul taste of blood on her tongue wasn't odd anymore. She scrambled over to a pile of stone and wood, photo frames and cutlery cracking under her feet. Lucy stumbled; her feet easily being caught between slabs of stone. She looked down instinctively to catch herself, her eyes landing on a small lonesome flower that had mercilessly survived. She stared at the flower, its soft baby pink petals ruffling in the unnatural wind. It sat in a muddy orange flowerpot, too big for its small size. Her feet seemed to move with their own accord, placing one after another to walk towards the flower.

Barely two days after the whole Phantom Lord fiasco, Lucy had found herself ridiculously nervous. Her body had vibrated with nerves as she stalked robotically towards the guild. She had purposely taken a wrong turn into an unfamiliar neighborhood. Plain, but nice-looking wooden houses lined the sides of the streets, flowers of mostly whites and oranges were lined neatly along the front laws, the aroma of them flowing through the air. She had found herself enjoying the small neighborhood.

An old woman had stopped her, all wobbly knees and wrinkled face when she smiled at her. Stray strands of grey hairs stuck out from her messy bun; her fingernails caked with dirt. The woman had shuffled up to her, coming from one of the plain looking houses. Lucy had gasped slightly in delight when she laid her eyes on the front law: rows of endless of pink flowers were speckled all over, spilling slightly out from the white fences lining around every property and some were neatly placed in dirty flowerpots, creating a mess that Lucy just couldn't take her eyes from.

The old woman had grabbed her hands between hers, eyes crinkling in the corners as she talked and before she knew what was happening, Lucy had completely calmed down. After the strange exchange, the old woman had smiled once again, before turning around and shuffling with short strides towards her house, again. Lucy had thought that that was it but was pleasantly surprised when she the old woman turned back towards her after bending down in her garden, a small but still stunning, pink flower between her fingers.

"You looked like you needed it," the old woman had said, her chubby cheeks growing in size with her smile when Lucy accepted the flower.

Lucy had always made sure to take the longer path to the guild whenever she could after that. She met with the old woman to talk, drink tea or simply sit in a comfortable silence with her, or with the extra presence of the old woman's husband. Lucy had learned how the pair met; how they were neighbors and how they had watched each other from afar for nineteen years before they had gone on their first date. Lucy was surprised to learn that they hadn't any kids of their own but had over a dozen of nieces and nephews.

Her hair wavered when the wind blew through it, blowing the tears steadily running down her cheeks with it. She had said goodbye to them when she and Natsu had gone to train. It had been a tearful goodbye, but not a sad one.

"We'll see each other soon," the old woman had said.

Lucy had believed her. She stared numbly at the pink flower, she had stared at the scattered pink flowers when she left, too. The small meadow of flowers now laid destroyed under the old couple's house. Fire poured out of the cracks, almost reaching the single lonesome flower that remained in its pot. Lucy cried when she saw the blood coating the flower.