These scars

Satu

There weren't any notes, etchings in the dirt, even a small goodbye pat, and Michael was at a loss of what to do. She willingly came with him, holding his hand and walking beside him, eyes wide and staring at everything, and he was waiting for whatever it was holding her back to just break open under the pressure that was her. Everything to be torn and sundered until it was raw, twisted and just unhealable, as it had lain for so long.

"I only remember that I love you," she had said, touching his face with her hand, features pushed and fearful, yet there was a lost adoration mixed with the two. "And that my name is Luci."

So they walked, through fields and worn roads. Feet ached and shoes muck covered, but he hoped for a city. One was promised, at least some small settlement, by reading names on a sign they encountered, promising such a thing in so many miles. Ten miles felt forever when all one had was attached to them, stripped of wings and just a thought.

She never questioned why they didn't stop at the handful of houses along the way. Never guessed at his own terrible paranoia, or lack of being able to tell which was good and which might harbor ill, especially towards her. She was so small, long blonde hair and pale blue eyes, thin frame, and she smiled up at him as though he was the morning, the joy in her face reflecting that.

There were things in his pockets, things humans used. At least that much had been given by whoever had done this. Years ago he would have sworn only Father, now he was unsure given where they had been, what had happened.

She did not let go.

.

"Slower," he told her, watching her want to eat as though she had never done so, and indeed he wondered if she had. All these eons tended to blend together like this, and it had been a rarity if he had ever put something into a borrowed mouth when on earth. Perhaps back when all this was created, when humans were not so lost she had, like him, tried those things seen from a far. Things the animals and living creatures used to sustain themselves.

Now, she ate as if she never had, but had longed for it past the point of reason. He took a napkin, wiping a small smear at the corner of her mouth and she smiled at him again.

"Not all of us are control freaks like you," she whined around the mirth before doing what she wanted anyways, but slower. She was always so frustrating, but she did listen despite her stubbornness. At least, in the beginning before other things set in, and turned her to stone.

Soon, they would have to find somewhere to sleep even though she had not questioned why they told no one that they had woken up in a strange place. Or why she could remember so little. A dark part of him wondered if this was merely trauma, that after rest she would know exactly who she was, and proceed to sink her blade into him. Not that it meant much to him anymore, they with no grace and soul that would just disappear in the wind.

Sticky fingers on his own free hand, firm and tight, and he bowed his head.

"Eat," she said quietly. "Worry doesn't feed you."