Mirrors & Shadows

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝐗𝐈

յօ 𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔥𝔰 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔬𝔯~ 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔰

Warning: mentions of self harm. If you are sensitive to this topic, for your own sake, I'd advise you not to read this chapter. Sorry ♥️

On the bathroom floor, Luna was on her knees. Deep gashes of scarlet were slashed from her elbow to her wrist on her left forearm. Henry behind him looked utterly lost.
     "I smell blood." He said. This was just as much a statement as it was a question.
    "Stand back." Edmond ordered. "It's the roses. Get rid of the roses." He commanded. Henry stared at him confusedly.
    "The roses?"

Edmond was approaching Luna cautiously in order not to frighten her, adopting a slow stance, not unlike a predator uses to sneak up on prey. He crouched to her level. She looked as if she were seeing him for the first time. Her gaze was a mingle of disorientation and mistrust as if she were observing him but her mind were elsewhere.

Carefully, he placed his hand on hers and withdrew a bloody object from her grasp. It was a pen. A fountain pen. At first sight, it seemed as though blood were its ink. The tip wasn't that sharp but judging by the wound, it had been applied with such force that it pierced the skin easily and most likely the muscle as well.

Edmond's pupils dilated at the sight of all the blood and the smell of it was overpowering but it was imperative he fight the impulses
You're not hungry, he told himself firmly and tried to concentrate on the task at hand. He asked Henry to come back with some bandages and to get rid of the roses.
    "Luna?"
She peered at him in a lost manner but without indication that she was actually listening or understanding.
    "You've lost quite a bit of blood." He continued nevertheless. "Don't panic though, it's going to be okay." He said remembering her use of the word when they had first met. "You've got to lie down for now." He retrieved some towels to make her more comfortable and to apply pressure to the wound.

Someone placed her head gently on a soft pile of towels. All of her being felt numb with coldness. But strangely enough, she felt comfortable. She felt as if she were a six year old again, curled up in her mother's large bed, listening to a reassuring melody. But as she listened, she realized that it wasn't her mother's voice singing. It was a low and murmurous voice instead. And never as a six year old had she paid much attention to the meaning of the phrases. Though the melody was light and cheerful the same couldn't be said for the lyrics.

"Jadis, j'eus peur des ombres qui dansaient sur les murs du saint Pierre
Jadis, j'eus peur des figures sombres qui dansaient dans la clairière
A la blancheur de l'hiver, les vautours errèrent.
Dans la noirceur, ils noyèrent ma joyeuse mère
De leurs ailes silencieuses, quelque danse funèbre, ils exécutèrent

Aies foi et rejoins-moi
Nous nous cacherons dans l'obscurité
N'aie crainte des ténèbres
Ils ne t'appellerons jamais
Car je suis à présent leur roi
Suis moi suis moi
Quand le vieux saint Pierre sonnera

Souviens t-en souviens t-en de cette jolie nuit de printemps
Quand saint Pierre minuit, sonna
Et que le fruit écarlate tenta
Celui à qui les vautours ont tout volé est-il voleur est-il voleur?

Aies foi et rejoins-moi
Nous nous cacherons dans l'obscurité
N'aie crainte des ténèbres
Ils ne t'appellerons jamais
Car je suis à présent leur roi
Suis moi suis moi
Quand le vieux saint Pierre sonnera

Quand le vieux saint Pierre sonnera
Mes pensées seront à toi
Ainsi je te vois envisager la nuit comme j'envie la lumière
Ainsi, je reviendrai au verger
Entre pommiers et marronniers
Entre lumière et obscurité
Sera tu la? Sera tu la?"