blood must shed for time to reset

chapter 14

( LUNAR CYCLE HITS ITS PEAK )

—MORNING HAS A TENDENCY
to colligate: a friend to some, and an adversary to others. Either you wake early, when amber clouds the sky, and live your day alongside the colossal beams of sun-soaked luminosity, or you despise them. It depends if you longed to capture the tenebrosity of an evening; if so, you'd struggle to love sunrise, for your eyes have just began to rest.

However, it goes deeper than this. It isn't a simple fact, where you either cradle the morning, or cast it to one side. With some, they find the illumination dispels their fears, and with others, they find the illumination saturates them.

It merely depends where they hide.

Circe and Regulus had stirred awake multiple times before deciding to turn and converse on their prior night together. The same static tension could be indentified between them, albeit now it had grave undertones — true intimacy had occurred.

A bad idea or a bad, bad idea?

"What are we?" the Black asked, voice disgruntled from sleep. He was wearing his dreary state well, with messy curls tossed, and dishevelled sheets draping his body in linen.

Circe pulled herself up, revealing her breasts for a moment before she slipped over a t-shirt. It was this action that caused her epiphany, bringing her severely into the present. She had just slept with Regulus Black! Of course they'd been fully aware in the moment, albeit as they suffered the repercussions, it all felt like an obscure dream. Yet to of, truly, happened.

But it had. And that was inevitable.

"I don't know," she tossed her head back, leaning against the bedframe. "I really don't know."

"Circe." he whispered, the word bringing forth nostalgia from their evening. In those bundle of hours, he'd used her name to reach stimulating highs, repeating it in litany. Circe, Circe, Circe. It hung on his tongue promptly, and impelled the Einar to demolish their conversation — taking another route, a far riskier one.

But alas, they had to communicate.

"Look," she began,"it's not like I regret what happened... because I don't. But it's hard, okay? I've watched you die, fuck I thought about you dying for a long time. And...." ( she really hated to say it ), "I'm scared."

"Of me dying?"

"These next few months, maybe even the next year, will be some of the most riskiest moments of our life. Our safety is targeted. Not just by Praesidium, but Tom Riddle too."

"So you don't want to become anything because you're scared I'm gonna die?"

Circe exhaled, sharply. "No, I don't want to become anything because I know I'm gonna die."

Regulus found himself at a loss. He stuttered for a second before stringing a sentence together. "What are you talking about? Why would you die?"

"For the same reason you'll live. Praesidium. I'll get killed destroying it, i'm not sure how, albeit I'm positive it will happen. I can't take down a whole organisation without some scratches, I'm strong.... but I'm not that strong. They won't murder you, you're vital to the original timeline. Me? I'm a stone stuck in a wound, dispensable and hazardous.."

Regulus shifted closer, his eyes darkening. "You're not. I won't allow it."

The Einar chuckled, "If only it was that simple."

"But?"

"But it's not. I'm a dead girl walking. Fuck, I'm not even that. I was never supposed to be here, to be alive. I was just created for someone else gain, and now... now they don't need me."