Chione has no sense of self preservation
For some reason, she always felt safe on the dock. The lapping of the water, the creaking of the wood, the occasional splash of fish stealing buzzing things from the air. It probably wasn't a good idea to be out here all alone, especially at night, but between the high arch of the moon and imagined safety of the pier, she wasn't particularly worried. This was more peaceful than sleep anyways.
Chione laid on the cool planking and watched the sky. The nights were beginning to get balmy, and she was grateful for the breeze here that the cabin denied her, and at least here she had company. She watched the moon, questions bubbling in her tired mind. She didn't understand fully how any of it was real. It was a bit overwhelming at times, as her mind would expand to try and encompass this idea of being the child of something so beautiful and until recently, so out of reach, almost as intangible as music.
She reaches her arms out and frames the moon in her hands, as if to cup it- her - in her palms. you're still my sister, Trev says in her memory, still Morris's love, one of the caravan, a duck's friend. She smiles up at the memory and lets her arms drop to her chest. It was hard to have an existential crisis with a sister like Trev. One more reason to love her. this new information did not rewrite her, just, added footnotes. And siblings. Hadn't just that fall she admitted to be most scared of being alone? That whenever Shadow was gone, she'd have no family left?
The water mage almost laughs out loud, she certainly had no shortage of family now.
"I see the moon a risin’, reaching into night, I’d like to be that moon, a knowing glowing light-" she sing songs to the duck at her side, the fire flies, and her mother. "Well, I'd like to talk to the moon at least." And since nothing told her otherwise, she gave it a go. "What is it like being the moon? Do you see the whole world at once? What does it feel like, to glow so brightly? Do you keep an eye on your children? Have you listened to Rowan's song every time he's sang for you? Did you glow just a bit more brightly on those nights we were filled with tears or bad dreams?"
Bad dreams. she'd had enough of those in one day to fill a hundred of them. She shivers, and fights back a yawn. She knew she should sleep. But sleep was hard. The nightmares weren't vivid as they had been, just ghosts in her sleeping memory. But it was enough to keep her awake much later than if she hadn't had them. She'd feel that pricking at her mind, the violation and theft of her thoughts, that cold laughter...and helplessness. Helpless to stop it, to stop the murder that would follow behind her eyelids. The cold that filled her veins off and on was nothing compared to the pain of not being able to save the people she loved.
She still felt angry now and again, for letting herself get taken by that awful redcap. Not because of what happened to her, really, it was a fraction of the price she’d willingly have paid to be as she was now. To hold his hand, to see him look at her like that. She was angry because it caused Morris pain. because when she hurt, he felt it so much worse. Guilt was a noose around his neck and this had just tightened it a bit more. She still tried to hide it, when the curse made itself present. There wasn’t much point, she thinks, he knows.
“Maybe it’s time to stop pretending it’s not there Puck.” she says to the sleeping duckling. Cyril was right, she wasn’t a victim, she would fight back with everything she had. She had all the reason in the world to come out the other side of this, and she was certain that by the end of her story, Beldannan would have learned how bright a mortal life can burn.
“Too much spring in my heart to have room for winter, “ she told the moon. “It will only melt away to flowers and bird song if it stays.”
Puck opens his eyes and peeps, looking down the dock. She doesn’t need to sit up to know the worried expression at the foot of the pier.
“Time to stop pretending mom, “ she says in a quieter voice, “This doesn’t change me either. I’m going to show them that.” So she blows a kiss to the sky and sits up to smile at the bed clothed form of the man she loves. They meet at the middle, and there’s a moment of silence, fretful and apologetic looks, before both smiling, neither surprised to find the other there in that moment in time.
And in that moment she stopped pretending, that there was anything else but then.
(I blame my husband for making me want to write <3)