Ashes

Twenty-Five: Pockets Full of Posies

A/N: Longer chapter for you guys this time! Enjoy!

I think the days after the burial bring with it the first hints of closure. It's not the blooming flowers that would sprout at the notion of coming to full terms with it; it's more like the end of winter, where the inklings of melting snow begin to tickle the ravaged earth. That's what the days after Mikhail's funeral bring: maybe not the beginning of spring, but the end of winter.

Echo notices almost immediately; the fact that we share the same house doesn't help much with secrets.

"You're singing," she points out one early morning, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she finishes her descent from the stairs. The baggy crew neck she sleeps in hangs loosely over her frame, and it's almost comical. My sister is tough as nails, but you wouldn't be able to tell at the first glance. She actually looks quite... puny, especially in the mornings.

"Why is that important?" I question, a hint of mirth in my voice as I finish pouring hot water into the coffee maker. The metal handle of the kettle in my hands is bordering on too hot to hold, but the fact that I notice something as little as minor pain is a good sign. Two weeks ago, I would've wished that it was hot enough to burn.

"You don't sing, Ari. You mope, you don't smile. It's a good sign," she states, like it's the most matter of fact thing in the world. I shoot her a quizzical glance, but don't disagree.

My elder sister lets out a yawn and scrambles lazily onto the kitchen counter until she's sitting comfortably.

"I've heard whispers that Gwen wants to meet with you soon," she tells me, tugging at the corner of an opened package of chocolate chip cookies on the counter. They're not the good kind you make in the oven, the melty ones that everyone loves; they're packaged, bought off the shelf of a supermarket, but they're tasty and they'll easily satisfy cravings. My sister pops one into her mouth, leaving me to wonder in silence for a few seconds. Maybe Gwen wants to talk about the journal? If it is, she took her sweet time to make room for this conversation. You'd think that after discovering what we knew, she'd be in a hurry to talk to us, but no. It's been weeks, and this is the first time she's reached out. Even now, it hasn't been directly. Something in the back of my head is uneasy, but I brush it off quickly. She's busy and we've been training; her absence is easily explainable. Plus, none of us had ever really gone after her.

"It's about time. Hey, when did we buy cookies?" I ask, picking up the package and listening the rustle of plastic.

"I don't think we did. My money's on Felix or Hayden," she says, snatching the sugary snack from my hands and onto her lap. I give her an evil grin seconds later, teasingly sliding myself onto the island across from the counter she sat herself upon.

"Hayden was here?" I smirk, and she lets out a heavy sigh paired with an exaggerated eye-roll.

"I'm not having this conversation," the says, pointing a finger at me menacingly. Despite the mouthful of cookie crumbs, her raised eyebrows and widened gaze make her seem threatening enough to not be completely ridiculous.

I give her a quiet laugh but decide not to press any further, opting instead to waggle my eyebrows at her until she rolls her eyes and shoves another cookie into her mouth.

"You wanna get breakfast first, or straight to Gwen?" Echo asks me, obviously trying to change subjects.

"What's breakfast?" I ask teasingly, nudging the cookies on her lap hard enough that they nearly fall.

She laughs. The sound makes my heart swell.

"Gwen it is. I don't think she'll let me in with you, but I can at least walk with you to her palace itself," Echo tells me, earning a chuckle and a grin.