Worth The Shot

Moon-White Hair

Today's fanart is by @MashPotato2 ! It's the scene from A Shower of Stars. I love this drawing SO MUCH. They included the detail of the blanket and even added SPARKLY BUTTERFLIES. It can't get much better than sparkly butterflies. Thank you so much!!!

BACK TO THE STORY

"Alright. She'll be next. For the procedure." Inexplicable, horrified terror crackled across your skin like frostbite. The... procedure?

Breathing unsteadily, you shuffled backward a few steps. Your shirt peeled off of the wall, damp with sweat and dirt. 

I have to get there first. To warn Pepa. To brace Camilo. To delay the procedure. 

You charged past the Madrigals. Past Augustin, who carved a hole with clumsy hands into the wall. Felix startled as you wildly careened down the corridor.

"The guards left," Dolores breathed, perplexed by your urgent steps and wild eyes. "You don't need to distract them anymore." 

"No. Pepa," you heavily panted, not breaking the steady thrumming of your feet on the dirt. What else would you even explain? There wasn't time. All you could hope for was to stall your father until Augustin cracked apart Luisa's moonstone chains. 

Moonstone. 

As you jostled through the darkness, Alma's necklace bumped against your chest, a sphere of cool ice underneath your shirt. The miracle suppressant. When Luisa broke free, you needed to strangle the silvery jewelry around the old man's frail neck. 

Bursting into the cavern, you hurriedly counted the distorted shadows of the Madrigals, flickering against the wall. Your shoulders slightly relaxed. No one was missing. 

Isabela's limp head lolled to the side, cold unconscious. Stripped of its usual glossy sheen, her ebony hair knotted around her neck, unkept and frizzy. If the other Madrigals seemed battered, she seemed... sick. 

Directly underneath her, Julieta stroked Camilo's hair with motherly sympathy. Camilo blankly gazed ahead, subconsciously leaning toward his aunt. When Camilo noticed you, his eyes illuminated with joy that heightened into terrified desperation. 

"No, (Y/n). You shouldn't have come back," he said, disappointed concern etching into his forehead. His hair flounced forward, shiny and healthy. The skin on his neck, face, and hands glowed, smooth and unblemished. Healed by Julieta. Camilo's creamy coffee complexion betrayed no sign of purple bloated bruises or gushing cuts. 

But not even Julieta could scrub away the evidence. Dried blood crusted on the dust by his feet. Blood marred his ruana. You blanched at the stained fabric. Honey-yellow dabbled with pulsing clouds of red. A horrible, apocalyptical sunset raggedly hanging from his shoulders. 

Overwhelmed, you stared at Camilo, hurting for him. Just like he hated. He never wanted anyone's pity. Camilo defiantly held your gaze, his brown-green eyes flashing. 

"I'm okay." His voice came out fierce and even.

It's not okay. You're not okay. Why do you have to pretend around me? You miserably thought.

Wordlessly, you rushed across the cavern and collided with Camilo. You deeply respired his smell of woody smoke from the fire and sweat. You held him tightly, the way a child squeezes a threadbare stuffed animal.

"Hey, it's alright," Camilo promised, the harshness softening from his voice. "Honest. Julieta fixed me up. Look," he earnestly extended his clear arms and pivoted his head to each side, displaying his healed, flawless skin. "Like it never happened." 

But it did happen. 

"What are you doing here?" Camilo gently held you away, his unchained hand balling around your shoulder. His nonchalant question deftly shifted the attention away from himself. You pretended not to notice.

"Saving you," you whispered. You passionately glanced up at pale, sickly Isabela, Pepa, and Luisa. "All of you."

"What a grand idea," A theatrical, good-natured chuckle ricocheted around the echoey hall. Heart quickening, you whirled around. 

Draped in his heavy, green cloak, the old man strode into the room, your father pathetically trailing behind him with a stern, aloof expression. But something made you pause. Something so insignificant, but disorienting. 

You could have sworn he had white hair.