endpoint; aeson&euley [day 6]

You're tired;
a sky without stars.
Without thunder.

You're just grey. There's no sound in this place. Not anymore. The sleigh had arrived silently, your tent pitched and items unpacked without words — no fire was built to offer light. There's no warmth here. A broken alliance gathers in a forest of dead trees, branches clawing at the air and grabbing nothing. Your hands are empty, too. Cold. And you know that Isaac will be looking down on you tonight, that there's so many hateful words you still haven't allowed yourself to process, but all you can do is blink. Breathe. Keeping yourself alive because that's what selfish girls do.

That's what you do.

Pale lips and silver hair, you're a ghost. That's almost blasphemous to say. Because you're still here and he's not. The wind has stolen him. And it's not that you regret living — you'd watch Isaac die a thousand more deaths if it meant you'd survive just a day longer — but you wish you could have done something. You should have. Fire became ash and your kick met only air. You did nothing in your attempt to protect him. It hurts, the thought that he died without knowing someone cared. You were willing to slit his throat when the time came, this is true, but love is not easily defined. To live is not to hate.

( He mattered to you. )

You look to Aeson — and that's not what this is, but it's a form of it. A kind of love. Toxic and cruel and somehow gentle. Too fragile to hold. You let it hit the floor because the clock's ticking and now everything's too loud. You don't pick up the pieces. What's the use? He was your first, bringing you down from the mountains and embracing you against the earth. You were content with never going home to the clouds. You were Persephone and this was your undoing; but you knew what eating the pomegranate seeds meant. You spit them out now. After six days. You're tired of choking on them.

Because you do want to go home. That hasn't changed. He kneels beside you and you still force a smile — because how much you care for him hasn't changed, either. It's just too risky now. Going any further in this. That doesn't mean you want to go backwards. You're glad that you gave yourself to him. That you let him see you raw and hurting and that you learned to be vulnerable. Truly vulnerable. And you still stand by your word, you don't want him to love you. All you ever wanted was for him to say it was real. That he cared, in his own twisted way. You were so afraid of being alone in this mess.

( Too proud to not be loved back. )

He doesn't. And that's okay. You don't love him, either. You rest your head against his shoulder and you sigh, snowflakes on your skin and water on your cheeks. It doesn't belong to you. You're tired of crying. You want to freeze again; to be whole. "I'm okay," you answer, and you trust that you are. You've played so many different roles that you're not sure who you are anymore, but you can't bring yourself to be concerned. You want to sleep. "It's just strange. I wanted to keep Isaac safe, even knowing that he'd have to die for me to win. Even knowing that I'd kill him myself if I had to."

You meet Aeson's gaze.

"Why does it sting so much, then?
Why do I want to keep you safe, too?"

Even knowing———
there's nothing to know.

[dars]

His fingers are in your hair,
but there's nothing for him to hold.
There's nothing to gain from this.

And you're everything, you refuse to be any less — but you're somehow empty. Hollow. Your heart weighs heavy, your bones creaking under the pressure, but you're a liar, too. This is the truth of a hypocrite. You smile when you cry, you bleed when you're safe, you kiss your murderer and whisper sweet nothings; you scream at the clouds and try to understand the purpose of thunder. It tries to do the same with you. You don't know which of the two is a more hopeless task.

Part of you is tired of feeling so much, but then you're also afraid of being numb. Cold. You spent so long convincing yourself that your heart was just an organ, a machine made simply for survival — but now it's beating in your hand, and you realize that it's so much more than that. You want it to be more than that. And it's confusing, but so are you. So is everything. ( You are everything. ) You place it back in your chest and you don't tell it to be quiet. You tell it to be brave.

You look up to see the face of a killer and you caress his cheek. It's soft, chilled. You pull your fingertips away and there's no scar. He's not as sharp as you thought. You're not as unbreakable as he thought, either. "Yeah. That's the game." You distance yourself, bringing your knees to your chest and collapsing on yourself. You raise your head to see the stars as they appear. This is hypocrisy. Dying and still getting up each morning; still moving on with your life like there's not a bullet in your temple.

There isn't one. You're alive. "And I still don't regret it." You turn to meet his gaze, smiling softly. "This." You don't reach for him. You don't see the point. He's already gone — and so are you. You're gambling with borrowed time now. "You're not a good man, Aeson Kight. You're cruel, and you're selfish, and I'm not going to die for you. Not anymore. My death is mine now." Your words are soft, there's no hatred. "But you were worth it. Being cared for. I always will."

You know what he means to say, and that's enough. You don't push him for more. "I'm gonna be okay. There's just a lot of things I'm starting to realize now." And you've always known that you weren't without fault, you've never thought yourself deathless; but you never realized how much you loved. How much you felt. How human you are; not were. You're not a wolf. You're just a girl lost in a forest with a boy that has blood on his teeth. It's not yours. That's all that matters now.

"We used to say that our deaths belonged to each other, but I take it back. I'm sorry, Aeson, but I want to live. And so do you. Just promise that you'll live for me? If I die and you make it out?"

There's music in the air, faces in the sky;
you focus on the living.

"I'll do the same for you."

[dars]