Better as Bones

ribcage - XXXI

Bastet

The coronation hall is grand. The ceiling is non-existent, a canopy of trees providing protection from the sky. Three cables of warm lights hang from the palace's entrance to the podium across the sea of seats.

My eyes bounce around. I can't even count how many rows of chairs there are. They all lead up to the zenith of the show, a thin stage that wraps the half of the row of seats. Every row loses chairs as Milo drags me along, squeezing out apologizes as we navigate the sea.

Sunlight is drenched in the chloroform of the leaves. Everything under their protection is soaked in green. I close my eyes as Milo pushes us through.

The cacophony of voices swirl in my ears. I can't tell anyone's voice apart. They're all fusing together like color in melted glass.

I jerk awake, my eyes wide as Milo halts before me. He blinks down at Cassius.

Cassius sits in the very front row, his tail wrapped neatly around his paws. He looks back at us, his eyes calm. He scrunches his nose in acknowledgment.

"So, you made it then," He says. Milo wipes his palms on his pants, wrapping his wings around his body as he sits down. Cassius did his job. Even though he knows we're lying to him. My legs feel like tree trunks. "New clothes?"

'We saw Avery,' Milo says. Cassius nods. Milo looks back at me, his eyes pleading. I nod, exhaling. My legs refuse to move. Why can't I sit down? It should be simple right?

'New clothes?' I translate for Milo. He pinches his lips together. The muddle of voices and Cassius looking ahead at the stage isn't much help for him I assume. 'Milo. Can you help me?'

Milo holds out his hand. I take it, biting my lips. My eyes feel heavy for some reason as I settle into my chair. My feet tuck around the chair's legs. Milo turns back to me, worry written across his face.

'Are you okay?' He asks, eyes brimming. I inhale steadily. I shake my head a little, pressing my lips heavy into a struggling frown.

'First row,' I tell him. 'I didn't think we'd...just Avery's so mad at me.' Milo sighs, kicking his feet beneath his seat. His eyes cast upward into the canopy.

'It takes your whole heart to hate a person,' He says, eyes soft on me. 'And Avery's always been one to hesitate with her heart.' I bite my cheeks, my eyes going blurry. I keep my eyes wide open as tears stream down my cheeks. I nod, my hands pressing into my lap.

"Yeah," I struggle, my voice breaking. "Yeah, she has."

I keep my blurry eyes forward as someone moves to behind the podium. They clear their throat as the crowd quiets. Their tightened grape hue dress bunches when they move their leg.

"Maylea!" They announce, the crowd deathly silent. They brush away their dark hair. "We are gathered here on this day to crown Avalynn Espiridion Guerrero the First of Maylea." They wave their hand to the side, arm spread wide.

Avery stands there, at the edge of the stage. She stares directly ahead, focusing on something in the distance. Her eyes don't avert from their path as she moves out on the stage, her starry-sea dress bunching and falling with every step.

Her ribcage rises as she still next to the announcer. In her hands she holds a crimson velvet pillow, a thin band of gold resting on it. Her body goes rigid as the announcer takes the pillow from her.

My eyes blur. No. No they can't blur now, I have to watch. I must watch. I squeeze my eyes, huffing a silent breath. I peel open my eyes.

The announcer's mouth starts to move. My ears fuzz out. My eyes stay clear.

The announcer takes the crown, a simple intricate band of twisted gold with a dewdrop of crystal by the brow. They address Avery. With every word Avery's spine straightens more. I press my lips together. She's so nervous.

Avery nods, holding up her hand. She repeats words to the announcer, her eyes still stuck in that far-off position. The announcer smiles with their words, raising the crown above Avery's head. She ducks slightly as the crown comes to a rest on her brow. It settles on her forehead, the dewdrop directly between her brows. She turns then. Eyes addressing the crowd at last.

Her eyes graze over me briefly. She seems to smile then. At least I hope. I hope because my chest is swelling with pride. It's dumb pride, pride I don't deserve to have. But I can't help feeling it because there Avery stands, newly crowned, her eyes looking the same way they did when we first arrived in the Meadow, like when we first met. She's out of place in this big new world, a bit uncomfortable and definitely having no idea what to do next. And it's comforting. It's comforting to know that even if I'm still stuck here in this limbo between my old wounds and new, she can be past all of that. She can continue on foraging her own life away from the mess that is mine.

My only regret is that I have to drag her back in.

So I push away my own emotions as my ears fizz back, the roaring applause of Maylea flooding my ears until they burn. My own hands rise to my chest as I applaud, my eyes blurry. Is it tears or the fog? I can't tell but I don't think it matters.

I'll just applaud until my hands are bruised and burned.