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THE NUMBNESS OF GRIEF WAS CRUEL. Everyone deals with it their own way; while some shed their tears, others keep a dry eye, a hot dragon of anger in its place. In some cases, some people dissociate, detaching themselves from reality and their bodies to float in a place where they are just numb and a shell—just a blank canvas. Astrid had all of the fire inside of her diminished—and now she was just there.
The days moved in slow motion. From waking up from her dreamless slumber to planning her mother's and father's funerals. Her chin, which was normally held high, angled a bit towards the ground. The only positive emotions she showed were the faux ones she had used with Maya.
She was tired and lacked the strength to do her makeup and make herself presentable. Her knees pull towards her chest, the soft cushion of the daybed on the balcony of her palace digging into her skin. Her watery eyes look over the lively Apollo. Days had gone by since the announcement of the Queen's death, they had inevitably moved on with their lives. It was as if time had stopped for only herself. A shaky breath leaves her lips, a ball of sobs forming in her throat that she fought diligently. Her chest rose and fell quickly yet so subtly that you would only notice if examining her.
