starry-eyed.

“surely, she was too young to have so many ghosts.”

introducing LILY as STARLIGHT. 27 years old; 27 years on meridium. water-attuned. a self-proclaimed idealist whose morals are determined by the laws of nature and survival, and who loves above all else the island she has only ever known to be home. | as written by theia (she/her). 

SKELETON ∙ ABOUT ∙ CONNECTIONS ∙ THREADS

It’s just a moment. A split second of hesitation, that’s all. Lily’s face comes into view and Libby’s heart does something akin to a rollercoaster, soaring high then dropping low, plummeting deep into her gut. She remembers the green shadows, she remembers the glint of the knife, the pain so bright it had blinded her to anything else.

But she also remembers a pair of moon eyes looking around all of that greenery, and dimpled knuckles on chubby hands that had cradled frogs, and joy so warm it had made everything else a little more temperate. That thing that had stolen Lily’s face had done horrible things. But it hadn’t been Lily. So Libby stamps down her second of shameful, scared feelings and lets the weight in her chest be buoyed again by the sight of this eager face, still smiling at her after so much, after so long.

“Hey, kiddo,” she says simply, not pausing in her walking as she strides forward and wraps Lily in a tight embrace. If she’d let herself hesitate, she might not have done it. And she wants to do it. She really does, petting at this soft hair, feeling her own soft smile pressed against her daughter’s skin, always smelling at least faintly of sea salt, of the perfume of her eponymous flowers. “How are you?” She steps back to ask that, to hold Lily’s shoulders and take her in, then the changes of the house. “Everything okay? You? Your sister? I saw your dad already. You two’ve gotten some work done here, huh?” 

Her hands run down Lily’s arms then as their gazes level, those ever-expressive green eyes saying prematurely what she’ll be bound toward, eventually: I’m sorry and I’m back. She doesn’t even realize she’s taken Lily’s hands in her own. Half to keep her there, to give them this moment of stillness, and half because… well. It’s good to know they’re empty. “I missed you.”

@libbyblum​

Libby doesn’t hesitate. Not even for a moment. Lily stands there, uncertain, and then she is wrapped up in her mother’s arms, and she thinks: oh. For a moment she’s ashamed of herself for ever thinking that there was a chance Libby’s love for her would waver. For ever thinking that her copy could tear down what had been built over the course of twenty-seven—well, twenty-eight, now—years, when even a mother’s murder had not.

Lily is shaking as Libby holds her, petting at her hair, and then, because she has to make sure this is real, she wraps Libby up in her arms as well, burying her face against her mother’s shoulder as she clutches at her.

“I’m so sorry,” she breathes, squeezing her eyes shut. “Mom, I’m so—I’m so sorry. I never would have—I wanted to go after you, but Dad and Flora needed me here and if I had gone Dad would’ve gone with me and Flora would’ve had nobody again and—”

She’s babbling. Libby soothes her, and Lily catches her breath, biting her lip to keep the apologies from spilling further. “I’m okay. Everyone’s okay,” she tells Libby, and she stops, mustering a smile. “Hold on.” 

She squeezes Libby’s hands—they’re healed, they’re both healed, and Lily much would rather Libby had a scarred leg and both working hands than what had been before—and pulls away for a moment. When she returns, she has a box full of Libby’s paints, and a photograph wedged between glass and wood. 

“I got your paints from your shack, to protect them from the elements,” she explains, because she is still shaking, still a little dizzy with disbelief. Because she has to keep moving; because she can’t dwell too much on what she had done. “If you still—if you still want to stay in that lean-to, I’ll help you move them back. And this is—Flora—she was with me, she got a little older for a few hours. This was her idea, we still need to make a frame for it. I thought... you might like, knowing what she’ll look like.” 

She pulled out the photograph, a polaroid of Lily and a ten-year-old Flora, a sister to the copy of Lily and toddler Flora that she’d given to Libby what felt like ages ago.

@starlit-lilies​

Things were shaping up in the house! Alex and Lina had, through a savvy combination of quick greed, bubbly charm, and plain old wheedling, managed to amass a bunch of furniture and features and all sorts of other stuff for their house. Which, considering the weirdnessess that the island had been beset with lately, was a pretty impressive feat, if Alex said so himself.

He was arranging a series of polished, painted calabash bowls on one of their new shelves (thank you, Big Willie!!) when he heard a rap at the door. But not just a knock, was it? The one he usually used when he’d visited Lily at her parents’ house. Alex turned from the shelf, looking towards the door. Some people on the island left their doors wide (the High House door was usually stood open); he and Lina didn’t like that, agreeing it was weird, but right now Alex sort of wished it was. This felt awkward.

Going over to the door, he realized belatedly he was still holding the bowl but he opened it anyhow to behold Lily there, smiling like she didn’t know what her reception would be. “Hey,” Alex said coolly, leaning against the doorway. “Look who it is. You got bored doing more important things and decided to come see me?” It wasn’t exactly a fair comment – Alex had been caught up in a number of things on his own side – but sometimes? It was more interesting to be antagonistic with Lily, rather than to let her coast by on fakey smiles and chirpiness. That was waaaaaay more aggravating than when she spat back what she was really thinking. Alex liked that a lot better, in fact.  

@alexlwoo​

Alex greeted her with the exact sort of reception she’d both been expecting and dreading. Lily flinched at the ‘more important’ comment, glancing away, surveying the beach and the other houses and tents.

“Yep,” was all she said, quietly. She looked back at Alex. Examined his careless slouch against the door frame, his cold expression. Nothing she didn’t deserve, but still, ouch. Lily took a breath, straightened her shoulders. “I heard—I heard you got hurt during the... the double stuff. And then with the time weirdness, I wanted to check in with you. See how you were doing, if there was anything you needed.”

end.

Okay. Okay. It had only been, what, three or four months? 

Yeah. He was absolutely going to hold that over her head, and her only defense was you could’ve reached out, too. It was going to go great. Her stomach was certainly not twisted in knots over it.

Alex didn’t have as much of a regimented schedule as she did, but Casa Linalex wasn’t exactly hidden in the backwoods. She had made enough friendly acquaintances that when someone told her they’d seen Alex alone inside, she mustered her courage as much as she could and went over. Because it had been long enough, even if she didn’t know what she would say.

Sorry for saying no one has ever loved you, Alex! And I’m sure you’re sorry for saying I'm clueless about human interaction! Can we go back to being best friends? Do you miss me?

Please. Like Alex was going to apologize for anything. He was too wrapped up in his own head to ever spend any time in any sort of self-reflection—

Lily stopped, rubbing at her eyes, exhaling through her teeth.

It shouldn’t be a surprise to Lily, after everything that’s happened. The aging and reversals, staying with Flora as she switched between three and thirteen and thirty, the island turning around and inward and outward again. 

It shouldn’t be a surprise to see that the Labyrinth has given her another gift, sent out her mother as it had sent out the Flood, but it is. To see Libby approaching the High House that morning, her shorn hair once again long and her mouth in that familiar, beloved line—Lily’s knees almost give out.

“Mom,” she whispers, hardly able to give the word voice. A word she hasn’t spoken in months. Her heart leaps in her throat, but dread keeps her lingering by the curtain that serves as the entrance to her room. She and Tomas had made a lot of progress; it’s almost entirely closed off, now. Her gaze darts down toward Libby’s leg, her chest tightening at the sight of the scar that mars that skin.

The whispers are gone, but even so, Lily has the thought: it’s over. 

She doesn’t care. Libby’s back. Even if she hates her, she’s alive. That’s what matters.

“Mom?” she says again, louder, and she steps out to stand by the piano even as her heartbeat thunders in her ears.

"No, what the fuck? ... Did Alex put you up to this?"

Lily didn’t seem as overly-excited about the beach as Cordelia felt, but Cordelia simply figured it was the fact that she has been living here for much longer - the newness of it all already faded. It all just felt so new for Cordelia still and she marvelled at everything. She just enjoyed everything about this place - the place itself, the people, the opportunities, the chances she never had anywhere else.

“Two beaches? Really?” Earthquakes, damn - maybe one thing she didn’t mind too much that she missed it. Even though it was even a question how she missed it in the first place. “Remember how vast and never-ending the Labyrinth felt while we were in there? And yet somehow we haven’t found these places for such a long time. I wonder if there are other places like this beach, like the other, that also exist on this island and we just have no idea about it.” Maybe one day they’d learn about them. They did find their way out to the beach too.

As much as Lily didn’t seem that excited about the beach itself, once she started talking about her little sister, Flora, she lit up completely and it was easy to see for Cordelia just how much she loved the little girl. Cordelia didn’t realize Tomas and Libby were an item, but Libby probably finally found somebody for herself once they reached the beach. Cordelia was really happy for her.

She mostly focused on the little girl, though. “She sounds lovely. It must be so nice, to have a little sister around. And three is such a great age! Is she causing havoc with the fire? How does it work with her being so young?” She hasn’t been around yet while Lily was at that age, so she didn’t quite know how all of that worked on this island. “Oh, and that sounds amazing, really. Is there anything I can do to help prepare it? I don’t think I’ve ever made that dish specifically, but I’ve been a good cool before, I can be useful, just give me some instructions.”

Cordelia followed Lily up the house by the farm, and tilted her head, taking Lily in as she asked if Harry just casually mentioned Lily. “Yeah. We were talking about her brother, your dad, and– I can’t even remember what I asked, I asked something, and then she mentioned that she found you. She seemed really glad of it.” There was something off, she could feel it, but she couldn’t quite tell what it might be. “Is it– is it a secret? Should she not have told me?”

⋆ 。゜☁︎ 。⋆ 。゜☾゜。⋆

Lily smiled at Cordelia’s reminiscing, nodding. “Yeah,” she said. “Were you with us when—we found that little beach that had a coral reef, back when Kimiko was still leading? It flooded a few months in and we had to go back? We never found that place again. Sometimes I wonder if this place just makes new areas, you know? Like origami folded into a hundred different shapes.” 

At Cordelia’s theory that there were other places as yet undiscovered, she nodded and went to the nearest window, pulling back their makeshift curtain so Cordelia could see the Range. “Honestly, I think you’re on to something. I don’t think anyone’s ever crossed the mountains to see what’s on the other side. And there are some weird stairs that go to nowhere in the ocean, the Sea Stairs. I’m still not convinced we don’t have killer mermaids.”

Lily grinned as she got started on breakfast, washing the potatoes and setting them on the chulha to boil. Cordelia’s offer of help was very much appreciated; Lily gave her green chilis and an onion to chop, while she diced the coriander and garlic. Once the potatoes were done, they’d need peeling, but that was a while off.

“She is! It’s a bit hectic, sometimes. She doesn’t really need a spark, I think? Like other fire-gifted sometimes need lighters or something like that. It seeems like Flora can just touch things and get them to burn, very easily. We’re not entirely certain about it, ‘cuz she hasn’t burnt her crib or anything like that, it’s been small things. We’re trying to figure out if there are specific triggers or what’s been in common. I’ve also been teaching her some of the stuff Kimiko taught me.” Meditation techniques, mostly, though Flora had not had the same appetite for it that Lily had at her age.

Lily scoffed a little at the mention that they’d been discussing John, because of course they had (was the thought still mean if it was accurate?), but shook her head, giving Cordelia a smile. 

“No, it’s not—I mean, it...” She paused. “I’m trying to think of how to phrase it. I guess I’m just not used to the idea of having blood family around. And she doesn’t really... we’re trying, so I give her credit for that, but she doesn’t really care about me. You know? She cares that I’m her brother’s daughter. I would like her to see me for who I am and just care about that, and she thinks that’s unreasonable because she wouldn’t care about me if I wasn’t her blood relative. Does that make sense?”

“Well not that far away,”  Emre conceded.  He tried sorting out yardage, but he was distracted by Lily’s mimicking.  It was just something she did, Emre knew that already, was usually rather charmed by it.  Iyaz would say ‘imitation was flattery’ or something like that.  But Yaz would sound wry about it.  Emre shook his head, deeming whatever was bothering him, wasn’t actually a bother at all.  It was just Lily, this was her being playful and trying to relate when she had no outside world things to relate to.  It was cute.  “But you is distinct to you, yeah.  You got this, erm, high-pitched bits with wobbly bits.”

Emre sunk back into the lagoon, paddling about. A snort at the ‘remembrance’ of his bloody fake.  “Can you remember its memories, or just what others tell you it done?  I remember its memories in blips innit…lucky me,”  Emre said dryly.  He shook his head.  “It done terrible things, luv.  Found new ways to hurt people.”  Burnt to death with Madi, assaulted Wren, mindfucked Mik, drowned Aurélie.  Oh, and - “Bashed up that little mate of yours, Alex, yeah?  Seen him about after though.  He’s alive at least.  Little survivor that one.”

It was more pleasant to think about water, especially with a waterbaby.  Freshwater and saltwater.  Preferences.  Emre liked freshwater better as well, given his ice-making and all.  But where freshwater felt like a tool, the ocean felt like a welcome embrace.  

And then there was lagoon.   “Glad for the company,”  Emre said amiably, with a scoop of his arm to invite her into the lagoon.  “Come along then.  You got hte expert’s eyes innit.”  Once Lily seemed ready, Emre took the dive.

⋆ 。゜☁︎ 。⋆ 。゜☾゜。⋆

High-pitched bits with wobbly bits. Lily tilted her head, considering that as she approached the water. “Is it like music?” she asked. “Not just me but—you know, everyone else. Tamyra and Sae-byeok and the other water-babies. Or is it more like… just something that happens?”

The jungle was silent as she stepped into the water, and something pricked in Lily’s awareness about it, but she was too focused on Emre. She shook her head at his question. She couldn’t tell him about her nightmares about Libby; he might let it slip to Tomas, maybe, and if that happened it was over, she was done. His had sounded busier than hers, which was funny. “Mine apparently ran around being a little creep,” she offered. “Nesh and I helped someone who wanted nothing to do with me and I had never met her, so that was fun.”

The news about Alex getting bashed up was what pinged at Lily the most, especially the he’s alive at least—had it been that bad? Alex had seemed fine whenever she saw him around. She opened her mouth to ask after him, but closed it, because Emre seemed to be moving on. Understandable that he wouldn’t want to discuss it.

Pushing people away. Looking back on their latest interactions, it could have been read like that for sure and Tamyra could understand lashing out at others because of something else entirely, she sure did her fair share of that in the past. But she stoll appreciated the apology Lily was expressing.

“I’m definitely not going to say no to you trying to make it up to me, whatever plan you have in mind,” she said, her voice gentle but cheeky. “I know some would say don’t mind it, but I’m not one of those people, so I’m all ears.

"But Lily, aside from all of that,” she added, her voice turning more serious. “I just need you to know that disagreements aside, I never wanted anything bad for you or your family. Maybe we don’t agree about the island or the jungle, any of it, but what I’m doing is to understand this place we live in, even if usually it has little consequences, and to protect myself and the people I care about. And some of those people are the people you care about as well. So you know, maybe our ideas and beliefs aren’t the same, but I’d like to think our goals are.” And Tamyra meant it. She could get frustrated easily, she was easy to pick a fight or an argument with, but she did what she thought was best for the most part.

“Me and Jovi… we’re both dealing with the aftereffects. I’m sure you know what those are like, how much they suck. Nothing good about them.” Tamyra went for swims, kept away from people for the most part, didn’t want to create even more trouble after the incident with Joaquin.

“And Jupe is a champion. She had so much shit thrown her way from the fakes but she shrugged them off for the most part. She’s somebody who’s really hard to get down and keep down,” Tamyra smiled, soft, her voice gentle as she talked about her sister. They were getting closer slowly and she was extremely glad of it. “She insisted I stayed with them after we all got out of the trees and took care of me, it helped a lot during those first few days especially.”

⋆ 。゜☁︎ 。⋆ 。゜☾゜。⋆

Lily grinned at Tamyra’s teasing, but she ducked her head a little as her former mentor’s tone turned more serious. Her words made Lily’s eyes unexpectedly hot and she took a breath, lifting her head to meet Tamyra’s eyes, swallowing hard. It was easier to talk about their families than… whatever it was she was feeling now.

Pathetic, a little bit, don’t you think? her voice crooned in the back of her mind.

“Jupiter’s awesome,” she said with a smile. “She was like that in the Labyrinth, too. Even at her lowest she tried to keep her head up.” She remembered the early days, waking up to find Jupiter crying, staying awake with her. But here they were now, with families, with people who cared about them (are you sure?). “I’m glad you guys have her to help out. Let’s hope the symptoms get better soon.”

What came next was a little more difficult, and it took her a few moments to gather the courage to say, but it was necessary. Lily said, “I’ve never thought you meant me any harm, Tamyra. And I know—I know you think I influenced the jungle in some way, when the Labyrinth came for us, but I’ve—I promise I have never wanted you to be or get hurt. Ever. I know we’re both protective of people we care about, so you’re totally right, our goals are the same even if we have different approaches. And I know I have issues with thinking my way is the best way and also the only way, so I’m working on that.” Lily laughed, rubbing a hand over her face. “Honestly, I’ve started to think you’re right about the island. A little bit.”

Her gaze flicked to the treeline, a bolt of fear shivering through her, accompanying the realization that she’d been foolish to say that out loud. She touched her forehead and brought her hand out, an old gesture of apology.

“But um, the project.” Lily turned to the basket she’d put beside her, standing up and wading into the water so Tamyra can get a better look. In her hand were long strips and squares of thin, silvery fish-leather, some of which are higher quality than others. “Tomas wants people to start recycling fish-skin. He put me in charge of making the leather. But I was thinking, you know, what do we do with it after it’s leather? ‘Cuz it’s actually really thin, and not very water-proof.

“The first goats – the ones here, anyhow, on South Beach – they showed up on their own, actually.” Tomas rubbed the pad of his thumb along his teeth, thinking about it. “They were probably domesticated here already and had just wandered off with nobody to look after them when the … stuff went down here. With the Beast.” 

He didn’t want to dwell on that particularly. “Anyhow. I’m not sure where they might have gotten off to, when we let them go during the drought. Higher elevations are a good idea, but I don’t think they were mountain goats per se. You’ll probably find them somewhere more protected, where there’s enough grass for them to be happy. Goats here don’t need to make do living on scrub.”

Tomas was thinking about the goat pen, the expansion and the potential dairy – it would be nice to have a dependable and constant source of milk, and if their goats were having kids it would mean meat to bulk out their diets as well – when Lily switched gears and asked her question. It didn’t land for a moment and then he looked at her, forehead gathering in slight consternation.

“Don’t I seem happy?” he asked, then sighed. Was she asking because of Libby? Had Lily come to the inevitable conclusion, that Libby was made unhappy by the life they’d had on South Beach, in this (haunted) house? And that was why she’d gone into the Labyrinth. Tomas suddenly wished the piano was still in the room. He’d have something to fuss with instead of being laid bare to Lily’s scrutiny.

“Yes and no,” Tomas said. “I was miserable back in The World before I came here and I don’t know if it would’ve gotten any better, so. This wins out on that aspect alone. I love my job here, and a bunch of the people here; there’s opportunities on Meridium that I didn’t have back there. It makes me sad that I’ve lost three daughters, but I’m happy to have two more. Nothing’s happened to me here that’s any worse than what happened to me in my other life.”

He’d lost his wife and then gotten her back again (Tomas resolutely didn’t append that thought, to and lost her once more); he’d been spared the responsibility of having to take care of his father as Rogelio sank into old age and decrepitude.

“I’d be happier with your mother safe,” Tomas said bluntly. “But yeah. In general, I’m happy here.” He leveled a look at Lily. “Your turn.”

⋆ 。゜☁︎ 。⋆ 。゜☾゜。⋆

Lily nodded, absorbing his knowledge about the goats, but her focus was on him rather than any abstract future task. When he sighed at her question, she looped her arm through his, resting her head back on his shoulder. This time she didn’t pull away immediately.

She shook her head at his question, don’t I seem happy?, but didn’t interrupt, hearing him out. When he was done, Lily was left feeling a strange sense that he hadn’t actually answered her question. Or maybe he just hadn’t answered it the way she wanted. She’d wanted him to say yes, absolutely, of course I am, Lily.

I’d be happier with your mother safe. She grimaced, then nodded.

“Me too. But honestly…” Lily paused, thinking. “I am happy. And you’ve been a huge part of that. I feel like I’m finally starting to—you know, build bonds between me and the other beachers.” Another pause, then a quick correction: “The other islanders. But I think you and Flora have really been the ones to ground me the most. I was already tied to Mom. I’m always going to be. But I’m sending out more roots and it’s... settling, in a way.” She gave him a brief, teasing smile, worrying at her necklaces, the beads and the locket both. “Or maybe I’ve just gotten used to the regular food sources and shelter.”

Sylver lets out a loud breath and shakes his head at her mocking accent and draws his legs closer to his body. The rain muffles his own voice and her words, and so does the stinging noise in his ears. The man leans his head in her direction to hear her better. As she offers him the fruit, he simply shakes his head. The nightmare had killed every ounce of possible desire for food, and the thought of eating something makes his stomach turn inside of his body.

“I’m not quite sure if that’s what helps.” Sylver shrugs, and plucks a flower from the ground where he’d just let it grow. It’s a night rider lily, and he hands it to her, his way of saying thank you, a little twist added by choosing her namesake plant. It’s not his thing, talking about memories turned dreams, and there’s always a certain danger of loosing the other person’s trust once they find out what he’s lived through. “Let’s say it was about rough…family business.”

⋆ 。゜☁︎ 。⋆ 。゜☾゜。⋆

Lily stilled as he offered her a flower, taking a moment to realize what had happened before beaming up at him. She took it, twirling it between her fingers, then put it in her hair. “Oh, wow! Thanks,” she said, beaming up at him. “I love flowers.”

His explanation of his dream, delivered in a little gruff-ish tone of voice, made her snort. She caught herself at once, mortified. “Sorry,” she whispered to him, offering a grin and a playful nudge to his shoulder, to soften any ruffled feathers. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you. It’s just—that doesn’t give me a lot to go on, dude. I don’t even know what you even mean by that.”

She tried to think of jobs in the Outside that might be rough; what first came to mind was: “Okay, ummm, let me guess. Construction? Oh, wait, no—family-owned restaurant? Isela told me restaurants are brutal.” She gave him a look-over, squinting in the dark, taking in his scars. Her next words are even softer. “Is that how you got the scars?”

It’s a beautiful house—it’s looked different to every lost and weary soul that’s stumbled upon it. A car run out of gas, a road trip hopelessly turned around, a night spent on the street with nowhere else to go… open your weary eyes and it’s there.

The house is warm, and it adjusts its décor to the occupant’s taste. You have a bed to sleep in. You have running water to brush your teeth and shower. You have a working fridge full of your favorite foods. There are blooming rose bushes flanking every door and window, the scent strong enough to seep through the walls.

(There are voices in the kitchen as you pad down the stairs that vanish when you get too close. A little girl’s laughter and running footsteps in the halls. A bird, too, though you can never find the source of its chirps. There are doors that are closed, even to you. As your recovery progresses, you start to think maybe there was a family that lived here, before you. What happened to them?)

Eventually, as is its wont, time heals all wounds. Eventually you rest and you are recovered enough to return to the outside world. But the front door is locked. The windows no longer look to the outside—instead they are covered up, the glass choked by green and scratched from long black thorns. You try to find the back exit, or the side door, but the halls stretch on too long. The doors jam and the turns get you lost. You go back to the kitchen and find the beautiful dining table rotted and collapsed, the floors thick with dust, the warm atmosphere now cold and silent. Still, it doesn’t stop you from finding something heavy so you can break down the attic door.

It takes you hours—days—years to find the attic door. Every room you’ve broken into has been full of furniture draped in sheets, of dust, of decay. You found a child’s bedroom, a lone worn teddy abandoned on the floor, and as you ran out you heard the family mother singing a lullaby.

When you do find the attic door, stumbling up to the window, you find the roses have grown over this exit, too, and the blooms are dead but the thorns are black and everywhere. Still—you’d found an axe, somewhere. This house was never wont to deny her guests what they needed.

The thorns shred your skin, but you cut a path. And as you start to climb out, you glance behind you—and a woman stands there, dark eyes alight with something malevolent. Her face twists. She opens her mouth and no words come out but you hear it, nonetheless:

Don’t leave me—you can’t leave me—I WON’T LET YOU—

“Mm, I suppose that you have a point,” Aurélie says, stretching out her hands to look at them now because she can’t take in her own reflection. Unmarked, unwrinkled, without sun spots or visible veins. No signs of age. Yes, they’re the same age in theory, but certainly not in practice. Her brows lift when the girl calls it the 1940 war. There have been many names over the years; when the Great War apparently changed to a World War, and then that gave way to a second one. 

She doesn’t correct Lily with a different moniker. 1940 war is just fine; it hadn’t had a name of all when it had torn her life asunder. “I was twenty-seven when I landed here. My plane crashed into the sea and I washed up alone; I did not see it again until it reappeared decades later out on the dry sands, yes? It is on the Bridge now.” Aurélie hasn’t spent an overly long amount of time there; it reeks of the past, of those who died while she lived on, ageless. “I was younger still when I began work with the resistance. Daunting tasks; the sort that only the young tend to have the nerve for, hm?” She offers a sidelong smile to Lily at that, a girl whose boldness she’s barely glimpsed, yet it seems almost familiar.

Lily is troubled at the concept of leaving her sister behind. Aurélie could expand here, mention that it was, in fact, six siblings that she left… but she doesn’t. Instead, she nods and says with unearned confidence, “Well, it is a good thing then that you will never have to face that possibility, hm?” Meridium has held them here for this long; surely that degree of separation won’t happen. Not at this rate, even with all of the challenges the island has tossed their way as of late.

Refraining from interrupting, even with objections and questions (including who is this so-called friend?), Aurélie walks in stride with Lily and listens closely to what she’s saying. Nodding along all the while to show that she’s listening, but not responding, not immediately. Not until they settle on a large, flat boulder near the water, close enough for the sea’s spray to sprinkle on both of them as they perch beside one another. 

A deep breath of the briny air is taken before Aurélie speaks. “I do not think it is a matter of forgetting. That would be a disservice to those you have lost; and to yourself, hm? They will make you remember, at one point or another. That much is unavoidable.” She shifts her weight, looking out at the horizon for a long, contemplative moment before offering, “I cannot recall who told me this. But once it was suggested to me that grief, especially of this caliber, is simply… love with nowhere to travel. You expected to be able to give it to these people, but they are no longer around to receive it, yes? So perhaps it is a matter of redirection, of putting that love with seemingly no direction elsewhere. And that does not necessarily need to be to another person, je pense; but devoting yourself to a project, or a cause, or… something, that can be a more willing recipient. That is how I have coped, at any rate. But Lily.” 

She reaches out to pat the girl’s hand. “Do not let anyone insinuate that your grief is wrong. You are so young. When I faced such loss at your age, even before the island, it changed me completely. You are not wrong for feeling these emotions to this extent. It is only that… a life lived in the past is not fully lived. I speak from experience, on that front.”

⋆ 。゜☁︎ 。⋆ 。゜☾゜。⋆

Aurélie seems so certain that Lily never has to face the possibility of leaving Flora behind. Or Flora leaving her behind, because honestly, that’s what will happen, given her track record. She’s the one left behind, never the one leaving.

It’s a morose thought, further complicated by Lily asking as they settle on the boulder, “Do you remember that fog a few years ago, when everyone thought there was a ship out there that would take them back to the World?” It’s fully rhetorical, because Lily can’t imagine someone not remembering that. The fear that Libby would leave her, the memory of Tomas calling her sweetheart for the first time, seeing Faolan’s ghost—all are burned into her mind. “Would you have gotten on that ship?”

The ocean spray is cool and soothing; Lily closes her eyes to savor the breeze coming in from the tides, licking her lips to taste the salt. Only a few months ago all of this had been dust, and then the Labyrinth had saved them all.

Grief is simply… love with nowhere to travel. Lily swallows hard, opening her eyes, looking at her parents’ bracelet with the worn leather band and the worried, well-loved pearl. Feeling the cool metal of Kimiko’s locket—carrying both Kimiko’s hair and Libby’s, now, after her haircut—under her shirt. Physical reminders she carried with her always. What had Alex said? Like you want everyone to see how sad you are. Something like that. Gods, fuck him, for real.

Her aunt’s advice is good. It might need to be something she might need to absorb alone, on her own time, maybe—but it makes Lily’s shoulders sag. She wants to lean against Aurélie, but she doesn’t, staring down at her hands and listening in silence.

But when Aurélie brings up living in the past, it’s like a switch flipped in her head. “No,” Lily realizes, looking up and shifting to look at her full-on. “No, but that’s the issue. Je—je ne sais pas comme… how to get out. I’m stuck.” She slides off the rock, sinking into the ankle-deep surf, and begins to pace in front of Aurélie. “When I first got here—when we got out of the Labyrinth—all I wanted was to go back in. I was constantly, you know, comparing life then and now. All I could think about was how much better things were before. It’s gotten better since then but…”

Harry’s mouth started to water as Lily set out the food in front of her. It was easy for her to get caught up in her work and forget to eat. Harry settled herself down opposite Lily and reached for the eggs, already peeled. “Thanks,” she said again, raising the egg towards Lily in a little toast before she bit down on it. Harry sighed, enjoying the comforting, nostalgic taste of a good, hardboiled chicken’s egg. Harry ate the rest of the egg in a series of rapid bites. “You make this?” she asked in between bites.

She glanced up at Lily as she said talked about her Dad, only to clarify that she meant Tomas, Tommy. Harry hummed through her mouthful, her chewing a well needed measure to cool her head before she said something stupid and hotheaded. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that Lily didn’t mean it as an insult. Still, Harry’s heart flared at the unfairness of it all. John should be here. “Goat catching?” Harry asked, unable to hide the tension from her voice, even if she’d meant for the question to been an innocuous attempt at conversation. “Had a go myself, with uh…” With Angel, though Harry knew that wasn’t her name. Not that she wanted to say as much to Lily. “I could be tempted,” Harry said, shrugging her shoulders as she now reached for the fish. She picked up a piece with her fingers only to realise that there was some cutlery and plates to serve out individual portions. Harry hesitated, but brought the fish to her mouth anyway, powering through the faux pas as if it had always been her intention.

Harry stiffened as Lily asked if she needed her help, wheedling out the tiredness that plagued Harry ever since her return from the trees. It was hard to sleep when your own voice called for you to return to the trees, when you knew you would awake to find the vines and roots of the nearby plants had ensconced you in a cocoon. Harry did a lot of thinking instead, staring into the flames of her campfire. “I’m all good, eh?” Harry grumbled, fishing her canteen from her side and taking a large gulp of water. “Tommy helped me plenty,” she admitted, as if that shared help would ease Lily’s need to offer her help.

Harry mused on Lily admitting that she was bored, moping around the farm. Maybe that was why she offered to help Harry, wanting a project that she could tackle. “It would be easier to water the farm if we redirected the river,” Harry offered, something they could work on together.

⋆ 。゜☁︎ 。⋆ 。゜☾゜。⋆

“Mhm,” Lily said, nodding, watching quite pleased as Harry tucked in. She still loved the family dinners, when it was just her and Tomas and Flora and all the thoughtful conversations that came with it, but she also missed the people. Alex singing bad songs from a place called Broadway, Jovi’s animated stories, Jupiter nudging Libby and laughing at one of their inside jokes. Aurelie and Joaquin coming down every week. Even the people who’d come to discuss the island and give Tomas and Libby their ideas on how to resolve issues. The Hardy leadership had been too brief and left their family on shifting sand rather than solid ground in its wake.

Harry hadn’t gone to one of the dinners despite her invitation, but, well. Lily couldn’t always get her way, she was unhappily relearning.

Harry, eating the fish with her bare hands, offered that she could be tempted to go goat-catching. Lily grinned, following her cue and ditching her own cutlery, nudging her ankle against Harry. “What would tempt you?” she teased. “Quality aunt-niece bonding time not reason enough to justify some goat wranglin’?” Wranglin’ was said with a purposefully exaggerated accent, a mimicry of that time she’d heard someone jokingly say swangin’, though she hadn’t overheard the context of that one. Hopefully it’d get Harry to smile, or laugh if she was lucky.

Harry’s lack of enthusiasm was alright, though. Goat wranglin’ didn’t sound like much fun to Lily, either. She could find someone else or just go it alone. (Or delegate it, but that felt like letting Tomas down, somehow. He’d given her the task for a reason; she’d prove she could do it.) It was equally unsurprising that Harry did not talk aobut how fucked up she was after the trees, but Lily wasn’t given enough time to press; Harry offered something that sounded much more interesting than combing the island for random goats.

“I guess I’m… yeah, twenty-eight. Shoot. Almost the big three-oh. Should I throw a big party?!” Jovi smiles again; there won’t be any birthday bashes any time soon, but also, with his mom back in the picture, he won’t rule it out. “We didn’t do anything too big. Just some celebrating at home. June 24th. Alright. I’ll remember that,” he says surely, though that confident expression turns to something curious as he keeps thinking.

“Hey, when do you think we stop aging?” He asks casually, as if this is an everyday thought and not potentially the second strangest thing Meridium has to offer, in comparison to the outside world. (The first, of course, being attunements.) “D’you think we’ve started it already? I can’t say I’ve spent too much time with a mirror lately…”

Lily hooks onto his question and Jovi sits up too, mirroring her reflexively. “I mean…” He starts, hesitating in a way that’s rare. But he sighs, shaking his head. “I’m not sure. My filter, it feels like,” he laughs a little. “It’s like my thoughts are a whole lot more impatient. And not like me. And I’ve got this pain in my head that’s just – it’s not fun, I’ll tell you that much. I feel sort of… hollowed out. Like that tree, I guess.” That’s an attempted joke, but his smile doesn’t linger. “Maybe I’m tired, though.” But when he looks up at Lily, his train of thought changes tracks. “Unless… you’ve been feeling the same?” He squints, then repeats the question. “Do you think it took something from you?”

⋆ 。゜☁︎ 。⋆ 。゜☾゜。⋆

“Honestly? Yes, throw a party. I’d go. And I’ll bring a bangin’ gift.” Lily brushed sand off her shorts, squinting out over the ocean. “We need more excuses to party here, honestly. The last one I was at was a year ago.” She looks back at Jovi, tilting her head. “That reminds me—if I put together, like, a movie-watching party for some people, would you want to go? Or does that sound dumb?”

The aging question makes her blink, but given the context of their conversation, it shouldn’t be surprising. Lily shrugs. “You got here three years ago, right? So—you probably stopped the moment you got here since you were already an adult. That’s the common consensus, I think. Adulthood. I haven’t changed since—” Since Faolan died. “For a few years, now. Well, except my hair getting longer, things like that.”

Jovi’s response about what the island took makes Lily raise her eyebrows. “No kidding,” she jokes, smiling to soften it. But as he continues, she shifts around to face him fully, giving him her full attention. His thoughts leave her quiet and pensive, resting her chin in her hand, propped on her knee. “Hollow,” she murmurs. Reminds herself: he doesn’t like comfort through touch. Impatient thoughts, unlike his normal self…

At his question, she starts to nod. “Yeah,” she says, after a moment. “It feels like it took—I don’t want to say my confidence, exactly, but my… surety. Yeah. I always knew what to do right away, what to say. And now I’m feeling like I’m fucking up everything no matter what I do. And hollow, too. Even when I sleep that doesn’t really—help.” She laughs, shaking her head. “I’m starting to wonder whether Tamyra’s been right all along.”