#advency

Sol’s always been funnier than she is.

Waiting, as in passive, as in the opposite of searching, as in not - concerned - if - the - time - in - between - killed - her.  Waiting, as in I’ll be here, always, Lumi, you know that.  Waiting, as in let’s go home.

The sunlight in her eyes, as in, have you noticed that the Traveler seems so...empty these days?

Their brother is — their brother is.  Their brother is waiting, for as long as there’s light in Lumine’s eyes, but there isn’t, really, light in Lumine’s eyes, and there isn’t, really, anything to the word waiting.  Sol makes a cruel, stupid, ugly joke, whether it knows it or not, of the sort that would have once made Lumine crack one of those little smiles of the sort only their brother ever earned.  But now, Lumine is ———

But now Lumine dying, or already - dead - and - just - hasn’t - noticed, too long without his other half / identity schisms all at once, every second, and Sol has chosen something other than their sister, and Sol has chosen to wait for the corpse to rise, tricking itself into thinking there is light yet in the star - girl’s eyes.

But the fact of the matter is this : Sol’s right, really.  They’re not waiting, and Lumine has already been slaughtered, and that’s the end of a long, long story about two becoming less than even one.

“Go back to your Abyss handlers,” Lumine answers, voice soft and quieter than the corpses that Sol buries, eyes closed, so they could say they didn’t, instead of saying you took the light from eyes now fucking look at me long enough to see how much you’ve ruined me.  “Before I kill you, Sol.”

“I know that...”  There’s nothing she knows better, girl - made - tool - made - vessel - made - monster - made - toy - to - push - til - it - breaks.  The monsters that broke her had been chasing knowledge, because with knowledge came power — for them.  Not for the children they devoured, not really.  The power that Collei once held — still holds — was not power, really, just a different sort of cage, another too - small - room, another set of reaching - hands to shrink from.  Another thing that hurt her, insisting it kept her safe.

(  she’d flinched from equipment that felt too familiar to breathe around / the memory sharp, hand grabbing hair hand pressing face into the dirt hand yanking aside her collar hand pressing a syringe to her neck ——  )

She understands that’s not what Cyno means.  She understands why they want her to better understand, to learn — so that she can be stronger, safer.  And she wants to learn!  Loves learning, loves so much of what he teaches her.  But — her head shakes, still - trembling hands twisting before her body, tugging at her joints like if she can tear them out of their sockets then no one will be able to do it as punishment.  (  remembers breaking her own nose, once, just to spite the bitch who wanted to do it for her.  )

“Power isn’t...always good,” she says, voice small, looking back over the needle she’d been unable to touch.  She knows what they’re for, and it’s not harm.   That knowledge does nothing but make her feel small, weak, BROKEN.  “I’m not...trying to argue —” (  unspoken, don’t be mad, don’t be mad.  she understands that cyno’s not like the ones that hurt her, that cyno won’t break her — she knows that, but knowing doesn’t change years of harm.  )  “I just...don’t like ——”

A reminder, that she is child and aftermath both.

Hands fisted in her hair / it hurts, it hurts / she’s barely conscious of Isa’s approach BUT THE BERSERK THING IN HER FEELS IT, GROWLS, WANTS TO BREAK BREAK BREAK HIM HERSELF ANYTHING AT ALL!  She curls further into herself, curled tight against the wall of Lea’s apartment, gasps out, “is it like this for you?!”

She means, does berserk follow you for days after you use it, make you on - edge and anxious and ready to jump or worse open throats at every loud sound?  She means, does it make you cry, do the claws hurt, does your scar hurt for days, like mine does?  She means ——