13. Wax
We shall die apart, shall we not? That is what you wanted!
For @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast’s FFXIVWrite 2019. [Title] [AO3 mirror]
The moon was a sliver of gold in the sky—barely a slip of a thing, but it had been entirely dark the night before. Odette groped in her sleep-addled mind for the phrase, and could not conjure it. She cast her gaze from the window on the far side of the room. This was not her bedroom, and it was only as she rolled over that she remembered why that would be. The pain lancing up her side told her that she’d probably popped a stitch or two, and she bit back a whimpering cry.
Someone stirred beside her, and a moment later Colette’s voice came in the dark. “Is everything alright?” “Fine,” Odette said through her pain-strangled throat. “What’s it called when the moon’s getting bigger?” “Waxing phase,” Colette mumbled. She lifted her head. “Why are you asking me astrology questions at this hour?” “I don’t know,” Odette admitted. She squinted into the dark to find her twin laid out on a little cot beside her. “Why are you sleeping in here?” “Grandpere said you fell on your walk today, and Maman was being just awful. She said you came in crying and went straightaway to bed by afternoon. Did you hurt yourself?” Odette sighed. “Some,” she admitted. “I took some medicine to make me sleep, but now I’m awake.”
They laid there in parallel as they had done when they were girls, and sometime more recently when they were adventurers, alone in the world together. Odette willed her breathing to become deep and even, the patterns of sleep, but she could not force herself to match it.
“Colette,” she said. “I ruined his life, Colette.” She laid there, staring at the waxing crescent of the moon, golden as a knight’s eyes, and as distant. There was no answer to her statement, so she posed a question instead. “Why?”
Colette had no answer, and gave none. The only sound in the room was the rustle of cloth, and then her twin settled in the bed beside her, scrunched up next to the bed. She lifted one hand—blessedly cool—to Odette’s forehead, and simply let it rest against the skin a few moments before moving on to brush back Odette’s unbound hair.
“Why am I still thinking about it,” Odette said, a growl of frustration in her voice. She closed her eyes, as though that would be sufficient to block out the sight before her, but there was no real shutter against memory. “Is it worse that I don’t think I should be?” “Because,” Colette said, gently stroking her cheek, “you want to make yourself feel worse about it.” “I saw him today.” “Then of course you’re still thinking about it!” Odette sighed. “He hates me.” “Maybe so,” Colette murmured, “but if we would die from lack of love we should have perished long since. Both of us.” Odette only hummed noncommittally in reply. “Leave such sorrows to the moon,” Colette said. “She will be up all night anyway, but you need your rest.” Odette reached out to wrap an arm around her sister’s shoulders, and tried to do as she bid.
