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occasionally subtle
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@thebreakofdawn-webcomic
Pinned post - Important links
(Let's see if it works with the theme I have, hm ?)
Before you read (content warnings)
First Page
Break of Dawn website on neocities (same content, different look!)
Ko-fi if you'd like to support the author
@drawnecromancy , my main blog.
[WIP. Will possibly add more.]
Housekeeping - hiatus
Hello, everyone.
These past couple of months have been scarce in updates for Break of Dawn. This has been the result of several factors (real life taking over, inability to write and draw consistently, trying not to burn myself out by forcing me to half-ass an update the day before...).
I have the regret to announce that I cannot, in the current state of things, keep working on Break of Dawn at all.
I'll come back to it one day. Whether I'll keep this webcomic-ish format or not remains to be seen.
In the meantime, take care.
Yeah I didn't get to work on Break of Dawn this month either. Sorry to let everyone down again but there won't be an update tomorrow.
Hello.
Due to schedule constraints and general real life hecticness, there will be no Break of Dawn update tomorrow (November 22nd, 2023).
I also cannot guarantee that an update will come out in December, for the same reasons, although I will attempt to work on one.
Have a good day, or evening, depending on when you read this.
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– You were right.
– Huh ? grunted Sandy, blinking as if woken up from a dream.
Unsure as to why he was being interrupted in his reading, he watched as his husband stepped closer to the couch, and pushed his legs away a little to make room for himself to sit with a sigh. Immediately, Sandy put his legs on Percy's lap.
– She has an ability.
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– I want to go home.
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– If I’d told mom and dad, I think they and Tom would still be alive.
Her voice cracked. She couldn’t keep the tears in anymore and she burst into long, helpless sobs.
Percy wrapped his arms around her again, whispered anything reassuring he could think of. Words that felt so, so small and hollow for a child experiencing emotions so large. But there wasn’t much more that could be done.
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– The neighbors knew too. Not- not that I heard, but they knew I was…
She had to take a second, blew her nose to pace herself. Not to become a sobbing mess. Not yet. Not before she was done.
– They hated me because they could tell.
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– I could hear it.
Percy repressed a worried frown, and nodded.
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She shifted closer to the edge of the bed, clumsily trying to brush some of the tears away with the back of her hand. Already Percy was taking a small pack of tissues out of his pocket and presented it to her. Claire took one mechanically, held it limply for a couple of seconds. She was trying hard, very hard, not to let herself cry too loudly.
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– Do you know when it stops hurting ?
Percy froze an instant, hesitating. He knew exactly what she was referring to, yet wasn’t certain how to word his response. It was only a whisper when he replied :
– It doesn’t really stop. Eventually you get used to it a little, and it becomes smaller, and it hits you less often. But it’s here all the same.
She nodded and, slowly, sunk her head on Percy’s shoulder. He felt tears wetting the fabric of his shirt. There was nothing he could do but hug her – try to give her some kind of anchor point in a path he also knew. He couldn’t bring her parents or her brother back. Nor his own family.
– It was my fault, she sniffled.
– You didn’t do anything wrong, Claire.
She lifted her head up to face him, her face streaked with tears. Trembling, she continued :
– They all knew there was something wrong with me. They- they didn’t say it to my face. But they thought about it all the time.
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That evening, Percy was the one putting Claire to bed. He read her a story, as he'd done ever since she'd arrived.
When he closed the book, wished her a good night, and got up to leave, though, Claire grabbed his sleeve.
– Can you stay for five more minutes ? she asked.
More words than she'd said in a week. Percy smiled, sat down next to the bed.
– Of course.
He wasn't sure of it, but he thought he saw her smile back a little. She curled up into a ball, resting her head on her knees, and for a time they both stayed silent.
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A day became two, then a week, then a couple of months. Little by little, Claire got comfortable in her new room, her new clothes, the house. She’d sit by the fire, and while she could still hear some thoughts, it wasn’t as bad as before. It wasn’t overwhelming. She’d only catch glimpses, passing, floating ideas that were at the forefront of their minds. But nothing substantial, nothing that made her want to claw her brain out because it made no sense. From her glimpses, she knew two things : these adults spent a lot of time worrying about things, and she could trust them. Which was one thing to know and another to be able to do.
It came gradually. She’d voluntarily sit with Sandy when he was reading, asking questions or just being near. She’d hang around the kitchen when Percy was anxiously waiting for the other to come back. She’d let them both tell her bedtime stories, even if it wasn’t like before when her dad was telling them. Eventually, the nights got warm enough that the adults discussed not using the fireplace anymore. Sitting in front of the lit fire, Claire was silent - she rarely spoke to them, but they didn’t know it wasn’t a new thing, she’d never spoken much - but she was observing them. And Percy caught on, and he came to sit near her. – What do you think ? he asked. Her eyes darted to the floor. She didn’t want the fire to go, clearly, but saying it out loud ? Frightening. She kind of curled up on herself. – Hey, it’s all right. I’m asking because you seem to like it. Claire shrugged. After several seconds of silence, he patted her on the shoulder and got up, and gestured to Sandy to follow him in the kitchen. She didn’t pay attention to their conversation much afterwards.
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It was finally quiet again.
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