🔥 / showing up late in here but. the Siblings at the campfire ok
Send 🔥 to sit at a campfire with my muse
freedom was not something gained and truly, it felt like one of macbeth’s illusions almost all of the time. they weren’t even truly free, with their faces in each database, with people after them. it was that fear that drove her post breakout. there was an almost constant idea that only she make can attempt to let the others keep their freedom, that she would have to work hard for them. it was why ultear more or less forced her way into the watch for the night. perhaps it was an old habit, the idea only she can do something. does it count as a habit if the idea was poisoned in the mind to begin with?
she was surprised when macbeth offered to stay up with her for watch. mostly because...well everything. the guilt of her failure crept up the more she saw him in front of her, seven years didn’t erase it—it was all she fixated on for so long, after all. how can you forget that? and then his anger, too in the aftermath of her failure. she couldn’t forget that either. she didn’t want to fail him—fail all of them again.
she needed to stay focused on the watch.
quietly, the fugitive once known as eclipse, the woman rarely known as ultear, spoke into the night. never looking at her only awake compnaion, for all she knew, he could be asleep just sitting up and sleeping. he did it often enough back then. “you can sleep if you want. i don’t mind staying up.” macbeth always appreciated sleep. she owed him at least that, didn’t she? her eyes scaled across the others of the oracion seis, well, crime sorciere now with the added ones. she owed them all that now.
if she cant take them back to the past, the least she could do if offer them sleep.
