Hollowed steps echo through my house, as my fingers graze the stone that builds the walls up. The texture on my fingers grounding my thoughts to reality. I hadn't been able to get a proper night's sleep since we got to this new world, every night either filled with writings or the sound of gathering supplies.
Or thinking of what I could've done differently. The End Queen will avenge him. With your blood they whispered, particles swarming my head as my steps paused.
Then footsteps snap me out of my almost trance, eyes shifting over to see what it is. Seeing an orange wisp in the air between the trees.
Before I can even think, I'm running, footsteps loud against the grass, ignorant to the puddle splashing that burns, no scalds my skin, as i hear, Them warning me it isnt her, it isnt the person i ran to to hide from the dark, to hide from the haunts, but i cant hear anything but my own hope, my own hope that its her.
Scar. The name is like a prayer in my head that echoes wishful thinking. Not even noticing when I start to feel my own tears burn my face. Brain seeing the note she left all over again, like it had every day since then, almost imprinted, no burnt into my eyes, the words ‘Im sorry’ being repeated in my head, a word of blame.
My footsteps come to a halt, almost falling due to the slick ground, but my eyes shake, as my hands slowly reach for the figure. Orange hair, the color of fresh copper, green piercing eyes, the color that green dye stains, and a smile, just as I remembered it.
“Scar…?” The name spoke like a soft sob from my lips, or a whimper of hope even, slowly taking soft steps forward.
Then she opens her mouth, clearly speaking, but muffled almost, like a conversation carrying through a door. My eyebrows furrow, as I see a soft sparkle from her hand, noticing she's fading away.
“No!” the word ripped through my throat, running forth, then the second my hand touched her shoulder, she's gone, gone before my eyes again. I froze, I didn't know what to do.
She disappeared again.
Then the slow drip of sprinkles from the sky hitting my shoulders, feeling the burn, allowing it like a punishment. I slowly move under a tree, as a sob leaves me. I felt pathetic almost, crying over a person I should've never let myself get close to.
I spent the night under that tree.
grief is a fickle word.
