❛ the ground. that's the dream. ❜
On the list 𝘓𝘺𝘳𝘢 𝘑𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘛𝘰𝘱 𝘛𝘦𝘯 𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘔𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘖𝘧 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘦, getting arrested is definitely up there. But, hey! At least there's a silver lining ━━ getting shoved into a drops...
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[ tw:self-harm (ish? i think it counts), suicide (ish?), basically an insight into Lira's mind because, as previously stated, sis very much is mentally unstable ]
ONCE UPON A TIME, in a spaceship far, far away. . . there lived a girl who, more often than not, feels like a universe of exploding stars.
She can see the stars now.
They twinkle coldly, fragments of violent violets, the soupy onyx shadows of the night only letting them burn brighter. Clouds have drifted, fading into dust, and the crescent moon gleams legions away from the dusty Earth. Trees tower over Lyra gloomily, but she is unafraid. Eyes seem to seethe in the darkness, the obsidian feels as if it has claws and teeth so sharp that it could kill, but still Lyra is unafraid.
There are fates worse than death.
Murphy in particular comes to mind when she thinks this. He'd walked through an embodiment of someone's bloodiest dream and waking nightmare; he'd been hung and he survived, only to be banished hours later. A milder death sentence. Clarke hadn't had the strength to outright murder him, not when the torment was still blazing in his pale eyes, and so cowardly she'd sentenced him to a long and drawn out pain. It'll only end one way. Whether it's the Grounders or his untreated wounds or starvation or something, he will die. That is, after all, why he was banished.
Atom, too. Flayed by toxic air until his skin was in ribbons. Ravaged by pain and despair and desperation after a night spent burning alive. Limbs brittle, eyes swollen and stained violet as they protruded grotesquely; as if he were a grape crushed between someone's forefinger and thumb. His lips had been so smashed he could hardly speak, and when he did it was nothing but a rasp.
But Lyra heard him all the same: Kill... me... Jupiter... please...
Voices, voices, voices. Lyra hears so many voices.
Each one belongs to its own story.
The midnight walk through the forest feels like an eternity. Lyra traipses quietly, aimlessly. Alone.
