It had been a while since Luna's admission.
They didn't talk about it—no one did, not at first. Lexa had avoided Luna especially, and Madi couldn't really blame her about it. After all, if she basically caused of the pain she'd suffered in the fall, and the result of why Lexa had to basically replace her wheelchair with lots of parts that didn't necessarily work as well as the original, then Madi wouldn't be a bit pissed, too.
But it had been a while since that was admitted, and since Luna was open about it—and didn't seem to hide anything else, or at least, didn't try to—it had settled some of the tension that was between all of them.
And Madi—Madi could understand, at least, a little, from the perspective Luna came from. Sure, there was a lot better she could've done, and sure, she could've tried to do things differently—but she also kind of understood why. The fear of getting into something you inadvertently caused and having to deal with the consequences of it. And if you could get away with it scot free, then why not?
Madi had been trying to forgive Luna—at least, began to, a little. And though it was little, though sometimes it had felt so infinitely small, sometimes little was enough for now.
Little was enough for now.
...
Madi didn't really talk to Luna.
It had been more than a few days since Luna had spoken of the trap, and since then, she hadn't said much of a word or two at her elder sister. Though she still did speak, of course—it was impossible to do without, in a world where there were only three others than you alive—she was a lot more reluctant and a bit less enthusiastic than she had once been with Luna.
She was still enthusiastic, of course. Who could not be enthusiastic about a sister magically returning from the dead? But her enthusiasm had died some, and most of it was expressed while writing down things in her notebook—stories, which, lived in a world where Luna was just her sister and wasn't someone who had stolen things, who wasn't responsible for a trap, where they weren't burdened by their pasts.
But she still didn't speak much. Mostly, it was largely due to what she'd learnt, or more eloquently—due to her finally facing the truth that had been shining in her face for so long, but had turned a blind eye to. Their only conversations had usually only been about survival, and that was the barest it had been to.
That was until Madi had inadvertently witnessed Luna fight.
She was only strolling along, since she was on a quick water-fetching errand for Lexa—hurrying two steps away faster when she saw Luna out of the corner of her eye, until she noticed what exactly Luna was doing—she was twisting the spear around her, up and down and around and like she was doing some sort of performance, which had stopped Madi right in her tracks.
Curiosity ignited in her, Madi had taken a closer look.
Luna had been practising fighting stances, twirling with the spear in-hand, and pushing on defensive and on the offensive as well, fighting an imaginary opponent that would've been eviscerated if they were real—flowing through the stances so seamlessly that Madi could hardly see the change that was happening.
She blinked—almost as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Luna used the spear like it was a part of her, flowing with ease and simplicity that Madi couldn't even begin to understand. It was as if the spear was an extra hand, an extension of her arm that was used as one would their hands and fingers. It was surreal to watch, and even surreally to see happen.
Luna must've noticed her watching because she had stopped. Walked up to her, and Madi was stuck in between just leaving or muttering an excuse as to why she had to go, but she found herself rooted to the spot, her eyes fixated on Luna, and the spear that was in her hand.
