Dark Glory

{2} Dreams and Ghosts

When I walked into the house, the silence was the first thing I noticed. It meant that everyone was already asleep. And that meant I could avoid the questions and curious looks, which was exactly what I wanted to do. It also meant that I had to be just as quiet and not knock anything over or Archimedes would be on my ass before I could say shit. 

I tug off my boots before I start up the stairs, quietly tiptoeing my way up each stair. Every little squeak or minimal creak makes me cringe and pause and it takes me forever to make my way up the three flights of stairs to my room.  Shuffling down the hallway, I keep my ear out for the snores of various sleeping people, and finally manage to make it to my room. As I closed my door behind me, I hear a faint meow and quietly groan as I drop my boots. There, kneading at my blankets, Archimedes sits, his golden eyes wide. I glare at him before stripping off the bloody garments from my fight and pulling on a pair of cotton shorts and a black tank top. As I collapse onto my bed, Archy curls up in the crook of my legs purring loudly. I snort, rubbing his head softly. It was no doubt Mom had sent him to wait for me and was going to get a full report about how late I got home. 

As I fall asleep, the hum of his purr reminds me of the boy and the coldness of the ring against my chest.

*~*

I sit on a damp log, still in my pajamas. My leg bounces gently, my bare foot wet with the dew of the forest. I feel her shoulder against mine, the cool feeling of her skin against mine. She was always so much colder than me for some reason. I don't have to turn my head to know who it is. Every night, it was always the same person. 

"Hey, Hera." Cassandra chirps, pushing a piece of my choppy black hair behind my ear. "You okay?"

I laugh quietly, turning my head to look at her. She looks the same as the last time I saw her, when she was twelve and I was fifteen. She still had the wild curly hair and the crown of daisy around her head. Her eyes were still a mix of oranges and yellows. She wasn't old enough yet for her eyes to settle, like mine and Demeter's had. Mine, the fiery red and Demeter with honey gold. I always wondered what her eyes would have looked like. She still had her young innocence, but there was something in her eyes. Something that wasn't there she was taken. I could never figure out what it was. 

"I'm fine, you worrywart," I tease, gently pushing against her shoulder. She rolls her eyes and pushes back. She was always one to worry.

"No, you're not. Are you?" She says, cutting through my teasing. I sigh, looking down at my lap. I couldn't really argue with her. Because it was her. She wasn't here, she was somewhere else and I was just arguing with a part of myself that needed her. 

"No." I swallow hard as tears poke at my eyes. "Not at all." 

"Why?" She asks curiously and I shrug. "Are you scared?" She adds, leaning a little closer to me. She rests her chin on my shoulder and I can feel her eyes on me. Waiting for an answer.

"A little," I admit, glancing down at her. She pulls back from my shoulder, looking puzzled. She always looked puzzled or confused or curious. Everything was always a puzzle to her and she just needed to figure it all out. 

"Why? Demeter is okay. You're okay. We're all okay." You're not. I don't say it out loud, but it's the thought that rings clear in my mind. She wasn't okay and maybe Demeter and I were okay for now, but we wouldn't be forever. Forever didn't exist. 

"I just am." She opens her mouth to ask why but I stop her. "I'm just scared and I don't know why." I hear her take a deep breath. 

"You know why, you just don't want to talk about it." The annoyance in her voice makes me smile a little and I laugh a little. "You could teach a donkey a few things," I hear her mutter and my smile widens. She was one to talk.