Recollection + Five Pebbles and her collapse, for post-Rivulet Moon
reflection/recollection + moment — always accepting !
it's now, she sits . steeped atop her rocky perch, the sole sounds abound — emanating from her own inner mechanisms, her alone . things are quieter than they used to be . it's beginning to grow cold . she is alive, and alone .
she remembers, now . things forgotten . she recalls when her power was initially restored, all those cycles ago: the rush of emotion, the feeling . it was overwhelming . to remember . there was simply too much to recall . now, however, she can't bring herself to feel much of anything .
it sits on repeat . echoes of her original final moments, projected against sun-bleached brick, amid the rubble of her can . flora broken free from the cracked stone obscures and warps the projections, but moon pays hardly any mind . no, she stares blankly, the recollections of data stirring very little . the iterator used to avoid this one, yes, the painful reliving . there was a time, where it started a pit in her stomach, to relive the panic she had felt, the touch of not-quite-death upon her . it was terrifying — to feel so helpless,, to fall . and fall . and fall .
old messages . the last proper received from five pebbles . cold . calloused . dismissive . even so, she'd long since forgiven him — what else was there to do ? to hold a grudge, as he too began to shut down ? to hurt him, just as he had hurt her ? no, moon had never been that sort of personality . she never had that bite, never desired to be vindicated in such a manner . even as she sits now, itching to feel . she can't bring herself to discern anything but longing . for something .
the video begins to buzz . she's soon to die, in this recording . static grows . terror permeates . the static fades into black . the recording ends .
it's quiet again . the only sound is moon . it's colder .
she is alive . she is alone .
