Even In The Grave, All Is Not Lost

Wuin 101

A/N: I know I say this every time but I am indeed still getting worse. Really dreading what's going to happen when I get up to the chapters that are incredibly rough draft or only a few scenes cobbled together. Right now, it feels like I'm writing in a different language. I'm struggling to recall words and construct sentences, as well as understand them. It's like having blurred vision in your head. Despite the fact that I've always been amazing at visualizing things in my mind (constantly daydreaming) there's mostly just darkness in there now. It's getting harder and harder to picture anything. I have about four hours a month now (spread out) where my cognitive function improves about 50%, though it's still very poor, and it's so stressful (not to mention impossible) trying to cram all my writing/proofreading into those hours. Writing is my greatest passion in life, my greatest love, but I no longer enjoy it. It's too difficult. Most of the time too impossible. Feels like a constant struggle. I hate that this illness has robbed me of the thing I love most in the world.

I want to thank you all for sticking with me this long. And for those of you who leave comments, I can't express how much I appreciate them. They're one of the few things that make me smile these days. I'll keep fighting to get this story written as long as I can.

P.S. not much Raven in this one, sorry folks

. . .

[trigger warning: brief reference to canon rape]

. . .

"Aren't you usually in the lab at this time?" Murphy greeted, waltzing into the kitchen. "Not like you to abandon Raven-sitting duty."

Luna sat at the island, flicking through a bright green book. The cover of which looked a little like God had swallowed up the garden of Eden and then spat it back out. Murphy peered for a closer inspection. 100 Years of Solitude. Hmm, sounded either like a dream come true or the world's most boring nightmare.

"Getting cabin fever?"

He very magnanimously decided not to draw attention to the dark circles under her eyes which, defying all expectations, were even more pronounced than usual. At least she seemed to have a little bit of color in her cheeks today.

A win was a win.

Luna sighed, closing her book. "Raven's been pacing in circles for the last hour and I was starting to get dizzy."

Murphy snorted, collecting two cups from the top drawer. "Not that I blame you but I wouldn't think you were one to give up that easily."

"Oh, I'm not. I'm hoping the lack of an audience will draw her out."

More like the lack of a Luna. Raven didn't give a shit about audiences. Well, unless she was showing off. Which she did far too often.

But not so much lately.

"And if it doesn't, a nudging reminder that we're supposed to go for a walk this afternoon might yield greater success."

In Murphy's opinion, Luna would be better suited taking a nap than a walk. From the looks of her, she might just collapse with the effort. But what did he know?

"Oh, it will."

Raven would sooner denounce all machines than disappoint Luna by flaking out on their plans.

He wondered if their pet miracle was aware of just how much power she wielded.

"Well, if not, I also stole her tablet."

He smirked. "That'll do it. Though you know she'll probably find a way to pin it on me."

"How?" Her brow furrowed. "You've been here all morning."