There's never enough time...
I need to go back to Florida. I love my cabal, but they're work. My friends down in Orlando, well, they're family. A few days wasn't enough time. I feel like I barely got Gypsy to relax and, even worse, I barely saw Moira -- ah, Crucible -- at all. You always think there will be more time, a hug or a kiss can be put off to next week or even tomorrow. A happy phone call won't really make a difference. But I've neglected a woman I miss and love very much. I need to go back to Florida just to buy her a cup of tea, or see her smile one more time. I remember all too well thinking I'd never have that chance again.
Elizabeth remembers... Somewhere, in my heart of hearts, I already knew it was too late. Oh god, why did the private airport have to be so far away from down town? Why did Tampa have to choose this time to nearly destroy itself as a city? Why wasn't I there? Moira always wanted to grow up, she just never quite managed it. First, a pseudo child to Gypsy, then Gyps died and the girl came into my care. A rebelling teenager in a woman's body. Such fire, such passion, but just not quite the maturity she needed to fight this war. Maybe it was our fault too. We didn't want to see her become like us, old, calloused, numb. We wanted to give her a bit more time to grow up. I loved her so much. I wanted her to be allowed to rebel, to be foolish, to be young. I guess this was a part of it too.
There wasn't enough time. Even as my pumps hit the pavement outside the apartment building where we'd been hiding out in Tampa, I knew there wasn't enough time. The city was in mourning already. I could feel the web re-woven, new and stronger. It was so changed I was barely attuned to this new place, strings fortified by the very energy that made Moira's soul, now bonded to the city forever, and yet not one piece any longer. I couldn't feel her on the web. I ran and ran. Up and up concrete fire escape stairs, leaving my body guards in the dust. Maybe I could do something. I don't even remember putting the key in the apartment door, but it was soon open, and every bit of hope I had left was gone.
Moira lay on the floor, by the window, staring out over the city. One of her stiff, drained hands still brushed purpled fingertips against the glass. Her eyes were shut. At least she had gone peacefully, communing with the city she'd loved so much. Having saved the city she loved so much. Her one last act in the war, sacrificing herself to save so many others. Now, she just looked like a girl, peacefully asleep, but too still. Not breathing. At rest, yes, but not asleep. I didn't even know how old she was. 17, 18 hopefully. Now she didn't even look 15. Life, fire, determination pulled from her and given to the city that she loved. Slowly, I sank to my knees. I thought there would be more time...
Sam remembers... Mage prom. What a stupid idea. But, maybe it'd be good. Maybe we could all relax. There hadn't been enough time to see the girls lately and I knew at least Gypsy and Moira would be there. I wanted to steal five minutes with them, to just relax and remember what it was to be girls. Friends. Hopefully, there would be time for that. I walked inside, trying not to feel awkward in my high heels and skirt. This outfit was SO not me. My eyes scanned the room, looking for the every noble, if tired looking Gypsy and the slip of a girl Moira. Mother and Maiden. I guess of the three of us, that made me the crone, but I was used to it.
I saw Gypsy, but standing next to her was a woman I didn't completely recognize. Belly big and round with life, cheeks glowing, smile confident and warm. And then, I realized it was Moira. Not so much maiden any more. Not so much a girl. Very much a woman. Grown up, strong, beaming and proud. She looked so beautiful I couldn't even think. Our little romani maiden, all grown up. It seemed time moved so damn fast...And no one stayed a child forever. I hope she remembered that better than I did, when she found her little one carrying a child of her own.
Elizabeth remembers... Somewhere, in my heart of hearts, I already knew it was too late. Oh god, why did the private airport have to be so far away from down town? Why did Tampa have to choose this time to nearly destroy itself as a city? Why wasn't I there? Moira always wanted to grow up, she just never quite managed it. First, a pseudo child to Gypsy, then Gyps died and the girl came into my care. A rebelling teenager in a woman's body. Such fire, such passion, but just not quite the maturity she needed to fight this war. Maybe it was our fault too. We didn't want to see her become like us, old, calloused, numb. We wanted to give her a bit more time to grow up. I loved her so much. I wanted her to be allowed to rebel, to be foolish, to be young. I guess this was a part of it too.
There wasn't enough time. Even as my pumps hit the pavement outside the apartment building where we'd been hiding out in Tampa, I knew there wasn't enough time. The city was in mourning already. I could feel the web re-woven, new and stronger. It was so changed I was barely attuned to this new place, strings fortified by the very energy that made Moira's soul, now bonded to the city forever, and yet not one piece any longer. I couldn't feel her on the web. I ran and ran. Up and up concrete fire escape stairs, leaving my body guards in the dust. Maybe I could do something. I don't even remember putting the key in the apartment door, but it was soon open, and every bit of hope I had left was gone.
Moira lay on the floor, by the window, staring out over the city. One of her stiff, drained hands still brushed purpled fingertips against the glass. Her eyes were shut. At least she had gone peacefully, communing with the city she'd loved so much. Having saved the city she loved so much. Her one last act in the war, sacrificing herself to save so many others. Now, she just looked like a girl, peacefully asleep, but too still. Not breathing. At rest, yes, but not asleep. I didn't even know how old she was. 17, 18 hopefully. Now she didn't even look 15. Life, fire, determination pulled from her and given to the city that she loved. Slowly, I sank to my knees. I thought there would be more time...
Sam remembers... Mage prom. What a stupid idea. But, maybe it'd be good. Maybe we could all relax. There hadn't been enough time to see the girls lately and I knew at least Gypsy and Moira would be there. I wanted to steal five minutes with them, to just relax and remember what it was to be girls. Friends. Hopefully, there would be time for that. I walked inside, trying not to feel awkward in my high heels and skirt. This outfit was SO not me. My eyes scanned the room, looking for the every noble, if tired looking Gypsy and the slip of a girl Moira. Mother and Maiden. I guess of the three of us, that made me the crone, but I was used to it.
I saw Gypsy, but standing next to her was a woman I didn't completely recognize. Belly big and round with life, cheeks glowing, smile confident and warm. And then, I realized it was Moira. Not so much maiden any more. Not so much a girl. Very much a woman. Grown up, strong, beaming and proud. She looked so beautiful I couldn't even think. Our little romani maiden, all grown up. It seemed time moved so damn fast...And no one stayed a child forever. I hope she remembered that better than I did, when she found her little one carrying a child of her own.