[being rewritten for the 1938473th time]
If it was up to Y/n L/n, she would read the summer away, lost in history books and adventure novels, finding excitement in their written words.
Meeting Lloyd Garmadon changed her plans.
Suddenly, Y/n is l...
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we are tumbling we are churning in eternal paradigm our world expand and still no matter where i stand whatever i do i spiral down to you
•••••
TW: gore
I woke in quiet tears.
I'd had a nightmare I couldn't recall, and all it left me with was a distant feeling of regret and helplessness. My limp hand wiped at my wet cheeks as I contemplated the heaviness in my chest. My body ached wit the ferocity of a thousand suns. Did I get hit by a truck?
I flinched when a bolt of lightning illuminated the room through the porthole. The following thunder rattled the Bounty, a deep bass that reverberated across the sea, through the ship and into my bones. My hand searched for the body who'd been beside mine.
"Lloyd?" I groggily called when my touch found nothing. I raised my head and looked at his empty pillow, and a lightning flash of worry struck me through my chest. My voice pitched. "Lloyd?"
A hand rested on the cover above my ankle. "Right here, sunshine."
My gaze turned to Lloyd's voice. He sat at the end of the bed with a katana across his lap and a whetstone in his hand. It was early morning, so I could actually see with the dawn light seeping in through the window, and his distressed curls made him look like he belonged in an early 2000s rock band. My fear soothed enough at seeing him to appreciate the cuteness of his bed-hair.
"You okay?" Lloyd asked. He reached down the bed and wiped my damp cheek with his thumb and a frown. "Nightmare?"
I nodded. He didn't prompt me to tell him what it was about, and I couldn't even really remember. I could take an educated guess, though, and I was sure Lloyd could, too. I wiped some crust from the corner of my eye and exhaled out my tension.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
Lloyd glanced down at the sword that laid across his lap. It wasn't his sword, the one engraved with the kanji for hope and gleamed like starlight, as that had been lost when Ronin's airship abandoned us at the tomb. But this one looked just as lethal.
"Preparing," he answered.
"You should be resting."
"I tried to." Lloyd picked up his sword and stroked the whetstone down it. The long, scraping sound wasn't entirely awful on the ears. "I really did, but I woke up and I couldn't get back to sleep. May as well do something productive."
