❛ mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the realest of us all? ❜
in which little aya spector doesn't
recognize herself in the mirror
( COPYRIGHT! - aka - DO NOT STEAL! )
illisius Ⓒ 2022
& , moon knight
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ACT ONE, chapter viii : dig up her bones but leave the soul alone
☾
THE FIELD OF REEDS WAS PERFECT.
Totally in awe, Marc murmured, "It's so... quiet."
"And nothing hurts," Aya added with a whisper.
The father had an arm over his daughter's shoulder, their hearts pressed to his chest, their gazes locked on the eternal horizon. Marc let out a slow exhale, eyes drifting closed as he let himself relax into the silence. No voices. No people in his head. No condemning words playing on repeat. Just... quiet. For the first time in a long time, their minds were totally at ease. There was no worry or any pain.
Aya didn't remember what it was like not to hurt. Constantly. Permanently. After so long, she had grown used to it, like another bone that hardened inside of her. And suddenly... there was nothing. Not like the dull emptiness of the asylum, but a gentle warmth seeping through her entire body, like a breath of fresh air on aching lungs, like a tender embrace for weary limbs.
It felt... good.
"The peace you've always wanted but never had." Taweret softly told them over their shoulders, "You're both manifesting it. No danger. No loneliness or hurt."
It was beautiful. It was lovely. It also wasn't fair.
"But..." Aya whispered, straining to look behind them into the endless golden sky, "What about our Steven?"
She would never be able to forget the look of fear on his face. Not ever.
"He's gone, Aya. The Duat has him." The goddess tried to make them accept it by imploring them, "Please enjoy your peace."
Peace... Marc liked the sound of that. For a moment, the father allowed himself to smile a little, his arm tightening around his daughter's shoulder. His gaze drifted back out onto the forever sunset, tempted by the peace that he finally had for the first time since his brother died. But he could not escape the empty feeling welling in the center of his chest. The regret. The guilt. The longing. There was no way in hell he was going to leave Steven behind.
Marc's tone hardened with quiet determination, "We need to go back for him."
He was right, Aya knew, there was no other way this could work.
"It doesn't work like that. Leave here, and you can't return." Taweret's voice slipped from warning to a quiet reminder, "Anyway, you don't need him anymore, Marc."
Maybe he didn't need him in that way anymore; to hide, to run, to escape.
But Marc and Aya needed him because he was a part of them.
