zephyr
The letter that Samuel finds in the attic reads as follows:
Zephyr,
I think you know me well enough to know where I am. But you deserve to know why I will not be coming back.
I'm not happy. I know you think it's your fault, but it isn't. I haven't been happy since Ray died. A piece of me died along with him, and I think it was the piece of me that knew how to love. He was the sun, and with him gone the world is gone dark, and I'm blind. I keep waiting for it to brighten so I can find my way back to you, but it doesn't and I can't.
I know that you've been hurting too, and I'm sorry there was nothing I could do for that. Maybe if we'd tried earlier, but now I fear we're too far away from each other to ever reconnect. I know what you're thinking, that it isn't too late, that we can keep trying... But that's the thing. I can't keep trying anymore. I have nothing left to give.
I know that you will blame yourself no matter what I say, so I won't bother telling you not to. Try to remember that this was my choice. You didn't drive me to it.
My soul died when Ray did. It's time for my body to follow.
We will be waiting for you in Mort's realm. Take your time, Zephyr. Please.
Yours,
Ella
You wake up in as comfortable a state as to be expected: which is to say, rather wickedly hungover, your face throbbing in pain. Why? It takes you poking your wound to remember it's there, a yelp of pain escaping your lips. Stagger to your feet, investigate the mirror, and there come the memories swimming back like fish in murky water. There was a, a fight? And a tall man with a knife? And you came home drunk as a sailor, and Red--
Ah, well. Fuck.
It's still mercifully blurry, just how badly you fucked up. Nothing to be done for it now. Groaning loudly you begin to search for a pair of trunks, which you do not find. Probably drying out in the shower. Hopefully Red isn't here, or is sleeping - it's barely dawn, after all - and you won't bump into him as you sneak downstairs in only your underwear, desperate for the freedom of the beach-
Zeph, since when has luck been on your side?
You all but walk into the ladder on which Sam is perched, noticing it only as it invades your blurry vision from less than a foot away. Brown eyes, one half closed from swelling, follow it up to find the familiar, pale figure sitting at its peak.
Up above you.
What?
"Red..." Your voice is a deep croak; you clear your throat with little improvement, the sleep replaced with a low but rising alarm. "What... What're y'doin' in m'attic?"
Zephyr,
I think you know me well enough to know where I am. But you deserve to know why I will not be coming back.
I'm not happy. I know you think it's your fault, but it isn't. I haven't been happy since Ray died. A piece of me died along with him, and I think it was the piece of me that knew how to love. He was the sun, and with him gone the world is gone dark, and I'm blind. I keep waiting for it to brighten so I can find my way back to you, but it doesn't and I can't.
I know that you've been hurting too, and I'm sorry there was nothing I could do for that. Maybe if we'd tried earlier, but now I fear we're too far away from each other to ever reconnect. I know what you're thinking, that it isn't too late, that we can keep trying... But that's the thing. I can't keep trying anymore. I have nothing left to give.
I know that you will blame yourself no matter what I say, so I won't bother telling you not to. Try to remember that this was my choice. You didn't drive me to it.
My soul died when Ray did. It's time for my body to follow.
We will be waiting for you in Mort's realm. Take your time, Zephyr. Please.
Yours,
Ella
You wake up in as comfortable a state as to be expected: which is to say, rather wickedly hungover, your face throbbing in pain. Why? It takes you poking your wound to remember it's there, a yelp of pain escaping your lips. Stagger to your feet, investigate the mirror, and there come the memories swimming back like fish in murky water. There was a, a fight? And a tall man with a knife? And you came home drunk as a sailor, and Red--
Ah, well. Fuck.
It's still mercifully blurry, just how badly you fucked up. Nothing to be done for it now. Groaning loudly you begin to search for a pair of trunks, which you do not find. Probably drying out in the shower. Hopefully Red isn't here, or is sleeping - it's barely dawn, after all - and you won't bump into him as you sneak downstairs in only your underwear, desperate for the freedom of the beach-
Zeph, since when has luck been on your side?
You all but walk into the ladder on which Sam is perched, noticing it only as it invades your blurry vision from less than a foot away. Brown eyes, one half closed from swelling, follow it up to find the familiar, pale figure sitting at its peak.
Up above you.
What?
"Red..." Your voice is a deep croak; you clear your throat with little improvement, the sleep replaced with a low but rising alarm. "What... What're y'doin' in m'attic?"
burn all the things you have to burn
save all the people you're supposed to save
save all the people you're supposed to save
