Simon sat quietly on the ground with Wren's head resting in his lap. She was asleep now, breathing softly, but still somewhat tense. He played silently with her hair while he could hear rain still coming down from the sky above outside. It had been a stressful past hour, in which he could do nothing but watch as she was once again brought down and disrespected. He was getting really tired of Jesse in particular, why didn't he seem to understand that Wren was simply just a person? Well, he supposed he knew why, Wren refused to see herself as a person.
It was still dark inside the house from the power outage that Wren's anger had brought. It was inconvenient, but it wasn't her fault. She had good reason for her anger, she was operating out of reason. Jesse, however, was not. His actions made no sense to Simon, what was the point in attacking someone without all the facts? Nothing about the situation even led to Jack, so he had no clue what Jesse was possibly on. But nonetheless, it was once again up to Wren to save the day, another thankless endeavor.
Simon sighed as he leaned his head against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. It was getting harder day by day to standby and watch her give herself away time and time again for nothing. It was who she was, he knew this, but it didn't change the fact that it wasn't fair. She honestly just needed to give it a rest at this point, kick this awful habit of hers and realize that the world wasn't hers to fix. He knew it would never happen, but the weight of the world was never hers to bear on her own.
He glanced back down at her, with the only light emitting from the stone she kept around her neck. It glowed a soft orange, lighting up her face slightly. She shifted in his arms slightly, and he was able to see her face more clearly. She looked peaceful, with tear trails running down her face as a telltale sign that all was not alright.
Maybe in a different life, she could have had it all. She wouldn't have been the golden child of promise, the crowning jewel of the Alchemists. If it wasn't for the Fiddlers, she would have never known of the magic in the world and kept living in peaceful bliss. She would have never seen death the way she has, would have never known of the screams and sorrows of those on another world. Maybe she would be off in university right now, chasing after a doctorate in Astronomy, back in her own universe living her own life. Maybe she would be in the arms of a different man right now, telling him about all the plans she had for her life. She would take him back to Overton during the breaks, introduce him to Mr. and Mrs. Matthews. They would have dinner together and laugh about the things they would get up to. Maybe they would walk through downtown together, browsing the shops and he would buy her something nice. She would smile and tell him that she loved him, in which he would return the gesture. All that would matter to her at that moment is him. Nothing of Fiddlers and fable, nothing of distant planets and alternate universes, and nothing of Simon. Maybe, when not up at The Crooked House, Simon would come back to Overton to stay. They would perhaps pass by each other, maybe wave at each other in acknowledgement and continue on their way. That's the life she should have had, the one that would have been kinder to her. But it's not the one she got.
Simon carefully pulled her closer to him, not wanting to disturb her but still wanting to be fully in her presence. Maybe he was also part of the problem, wanting something out of her, but it wasn't something he could resist. He wanted to hear her sing at the top of her lungs when she was happy, sob to him when she was sad, simply go through the motions, but she would never be able to.
He hugged her close, feeling her warmth. He knew she was tired and at risk of burning out, but there was nothing he could have done. She was simply the daughter of fools, a people who crafted her into what she was now, not knowing what a beautiful shimmering jewel they had. They simply caught her on fire and left her to burn without direction. They forgot about her, only remembering that she was still on fire when they felt cold.
"Maybe you should have chosen another story," he spoke into the silence, knowing that she would never hear him. "One without us all, but one where your glory would never fade."
