Chapter 1: Your Skin, Oh Yeah, Your Skin and Bones
Chapter Text
The one constant in Lune’s upbringing she could count on was her mother’s desperate midnight cries. Her voice had the lilt of a desperate baby bird; with such an addicting fragility that Lune had fine tuned to hear, even as her mother’s most quiet whimpers.
Lune knew to lie awake until the bird began to weep in the foyer. They would bolt up in an instant- clockwork at this point, and would quietly pick the medicine cabinet lock. Her mother would find her with a teary-eyed, desperate gaze that only Lune could find beautiful. She would shush and coo and hum with reassurances, of ‘It’s okay mom’ and ‘Let me take care of you’.
These were the moments Lune treasured, wherein she would wrap and disinfect her mother’s open wounds. Where she could shush and wipe her quiet tears and remind her she’s perfect and lovely and oh please not to cry- pretty please mother such things don’t belong on your youthful face.
Her mother liked to make it difficult, she’d insist that she could handle herself- that Lune must sleep, and she was too young to handle this. Lune wouldn’t listen- she refused to let such a fragile idol be soiled by blood or tears. And she saw the smile mother tried to hide. It was shameful- letting your daughter nurse you to health. Lune thought it heresy, to judge such a pure and honest reality as love. She could only cover her ears, and silence her tongue.
The only thing she liked to hear was her mother’s voice, humming lullabies to calm her as she worked, or her gentle, soft hands holding her with such adoring desperation. This is what Lune treasured most, the gentle massage of her back as her mother held her for comfort, the quiet returned praises of ‘You are wonderful.’ and ‘You are such a lovely girl.’
Maybe one day she’d hear her again- but probably not. You cannot injure what is already dead after all- there would be nothing to heal.
Mayhaps her mother would praise her anyway, but most likely not. Lune was meant to be honest, she shouldn’t lie to herself.
Chapter 2: Justify the Angels By Their Side
Summary:
Lune goes on a beach date with a musician girl from the other side of town, but doing so brings up bad memories of her mother.
Notes:
tw: panic attacks, discussion/mentions of drowning
Chapter Text
Lune remembered when her mother taught her how to swim.
She wouldn’t go past her knees, which as a small child, meant she practically refused to enter the water at all. She struggled as they eyed her mother, the sun stung her eyes from behind.
Her mother was frail, more so than Lune remembered her being; easy to be taken away and beaten and battered by the waves. Lune swallowed a gulp, her mother was far too soft spoken for a place like this. Should the waves carry her away there was no way of her being heard. Even at its loudest Lune knew her mother wouldn’t be heard over the waves, only left to die and drown and rot.
Lune hated the thought of it, she knew such a rush of water into the lungs caused a painful fire that made one crave an almost inevitable death. Her mother couldn’t go through that, she was too beautiful. Her voice was too beautiful. Her soul was too beautiful.
Lune took off her life vest, throwing it on the sand. They insisted her mother wear it instead. Yes, it’s too small for you, not by all that much. It could go on your arm if you’re that worried. I won’t need it if I stay on shore, I know you love the water. Please just take it, what if the waves take you away? I’ll be okay. You have a beautiful mind, you would find me if I got cast away. I wouldn’t find you, I'm too small and useless. Please just take it mother please.
Lune hadn’t been to the beach since then. Her mom gave up trying to teach her to swim after the argument, taking her home in silence. Lune avoided the shoreline, even looking at it made her stomach crawl with an unexplainable guilt.
She was surprised to have come here now. Though, as they thought more about it, she had come to break a lot of boundaries on the musician girl’s behalf. She had such a drive to her, such a bold and active life, it was addictive, like a moth to the candle flame. Lune felt an unavoidable craving to follow her, she figured it made sense enough, considering the sickness.
Lune was certain the musician had given her some contagious illness, perhaps the common cold. Lune’s cheeks were rosy, her head foggy, and she easily grew breathless. She was desperate to be around the girl more- to see if she was just as ill as they were, and mayhaps nurse her back to health. She stopped herself though, most people seemed unsettled when she offered up that sort of treatment. And in some indescribable way, Lune felt with a certainty the musician wouldn’t require them to do such things to justify her prolonged presence at her side.
Maybe that’s why she accepted the girl’s offer for a beach date. As a hopefully-very subtle way to monitor her health. For sure that had to be it, beautiful people deserve to be protected after all.
“Ready?” was all the girl said, and that’s when Lune realized she felt sick again. The musician motioned outward towards the water with her hand. Lune’s eyes followed with quivering unease.
Lune should stop this, she thought. The two of them were muscular enough to easily handle the tides, but it was evident the musician was far too in some sort of bliss to be cautious. Lune had been around her enough by now to notice. The girl was reckless, far too desperate to do action than to think.
Lune was hardly any different as things were, far too sick to think straight. The waves would grow larger and larger and they would take the girl away as Lune could only watch, far too useless to do anything.
“Lune?” the girl murmured, a not-so easily obscured concern to her tone. It was sickening to hear such a pure, quiet concern. Lune’s chest began to rise and fall at a staggered pace, her limbs grew numb as she could only hear static.
Lune’s sickness must have been evident at that point, as the girl spoke ever more desperately until Lune couldn’t hear her anymore. Lune was dizzy, she was going to fall in the water and drown and die which she knew would just upset her more. She didn’t deserve that, she was far too lovely, and far too kind for that kind of treatment. Lune couldn’t meet her eyes, seeing the way the girl’s face was torn apart with worry made her even sicker.
Lune fell forward and she was caught instantly, just making out the quiet vocalized reassurances of ‘I’ve got you’ and ‘it’s okay’. These words kept Lune just conscious enough to register how peaceful she felt in her arms. Lune leaned into her hold, it was warm. Her heart was warm. She was in a daze, the sun beating on her from all directions as the girl held her closely. Maybe that’s how the girl got her namesake.
She heard the girl ask if she was conscious, and Lune nodded rapidly, just to be able to hear the girl exhale a deep, anxious breath.
Lune gulped, her voice suddenly hoarse as she struggled to speak, to explain herself. She felt the girl’s fingers slowly comb through her hair. Lune could only hope the sea air hadn’t made it frizzy. Though maybe that shouldn’t be their concern at the moment, they realized.
“Sorry.” was all Lune said.
“It’s alright.” the girl replied, her voice softer than normal. “Take your time.”
Lune obliged, far too blissful in her embrace to do much else. Her breath began to steady and her ears had stopped ringing. The musician must have noticed, as she reached downward for Lune’s hand. She mumbled the subtle question of “May I?” to which Lune nodded.
It was times like these where she may have considered the preposterous act of taking off her gloves, simply from the euphoria she felt in that moment. The girl ran her thumb along the back of Lune’s hand, a gentle, soft up and down motion to calm her. Her thumb was calloused yet controlled, a consequence of years of guitar. Lune’s breath hitched from the sensation, she didn’t deserve the attention.
“I like your gloves.” the girl said simply, “They look nice.”
You look nice is what Lune refused to quip back, though it took her time to say anything at all. Lune sat in silence for a while, simply wanting to treasure this moment. “They are indeed.” Lune frowned, with a slight stutter she spoke again. “I didn’t want to get them wet.”
It was only a half truth, to which the girl quickly caught on. It seemed the girl was still just as stuck as she was on how to navigate this, which helped put Lune at ease, not by much, but a little. “That’s not it.” she replied with certainty. “Is it?”
Lune would have felt the urge to lie again if it were anyone else. Her gift had prevented her from lying, but never prevented the urge. The girl was different somehow- being able to read Lune almost better than they did themself. The fact didn’t scare Lune however, rather put them at ease. There was no anger in her tone whenever the girl spoke to her, no resentment for Lune’s blind panic. There was an understanding there, almost a sameness.
“Lune, Can you please look at me?” the girl said, with such an emptiness that made Lune’s stomach drop. She was straining to act okay, Lune had to obey if only to put her at ease.
Lune obeyed, and the musician gave an exasperated sigh. “Thank you,” she smiled, “I don’t want you to feel ashamed.”
I’m not is what they wanted to say, before they felt their breath stop them. A blatant lie, even to Lune. Lune sank slightly, deciding to stay quiet.
“Was it the sea?” the girl asked, which was far from what Lune had hoped to hear. Answering correctly would only guilt the girl, but lying would just be worse.
“Mhm.” Lune replied- which was the most honest answer she could give. Lune saw the way her face sank. She was blaming herself.
She didn’t reply at first, instead standing up with a stretch, guiding Lune by the hand. Lune fumbled a bit, perhaps not as over the dizziness as she thought. The musician caught her, both laughed, the laughter just as contagious as the sickness.
“Let’s get out of here, We can just go to my place instead.” she smiled, already walking back to the car. Lune couldn’t help but follow, desperate to stay by her side.
Because she needed to keep careful watch of her patients, right?
But as they tried to voice this, their throat closed up again.
Chapter 3: Like death, like daughter
Summary:
Lune holds a memorial service for her mom and injures herself. (Aka: the story of Lune meeting Boreas)
Notes:
Tw: self injury, grief, hallucinations, fire, implied neglect, implied child abuse
Chapter Text
There was a flickering light in Lune’s bedroom, one that always hurt their eyes. Their bedroom’s heating was equally unreliable, leaving her sleepless more often than not. Her father had not bothered to fix the heat or lighting in their room after it broke one day; a grievance, which when voiced, he gracefully replied: “Dress warm then”.
So she did, with the Rhode Island cold it didn't hardly matter if she was on the bedroom or her roof. They were both equally cold and inhospitable.
She tightened a scarf around her neck before stopping herself. She thought back to her mother with her hands clutched around her throat. Lune loosened their scarf, she made a mental note to discard her chokers as well.
It was nighttime and Lune knew she should stay at home. Monster attacks had been especially prevalent lately, and she supposed she didn’t want her town destroyed. But maybe she did. In all reality she wasn’t quite sure what she wanted nowadays.
Lune never sought much growing up, she honestly didn’t deliberate often on herself. Lune always saw herself to be a pretty aimless person; everyone else seemed so eager to do things, to become things. Lune was more passive, she thought.
She struggled to bond with people her age, never allowed to have any social time after school hours. Her mom wanted her home at all times, and to be ready should she come home injured. Lune didn’t have a favorite sport, or band, or movie. She never had a chance to care about such things.
And yet people asked, and sure, Lune understood why they did. Small talk like this did not necessarily annoy her, but it did feel alienating. It was somewhat embarrassing when people acted just— confused at the idea she had never been on vacation, or to the movies, or to the county fair. It gave them nothing to bond them to her with, so most people stopped bothering to talk to her once they figured out she wasn’t an interesting conversationalist, or even the loner kid they could save.
She supposed that could change now, her mom was gone after all. She could go to the movies, or to the park. She could steal cash and go do things with people. Her dad rarely cared less where she was so long as it wasn’t jail, he wasn’t sober enough to remember she existed most of the time. Since her mother died he had distanced himself more than ever, she could do anything she wanted.
But she didn’t find any reason to, she supposed she never felt a drive to do anything for herself before. Her mom dying didn’t give her a sudden rush of ambition— if anything she felt more stagnant than before.
She had always lived for her mother, she realizes. Everything Lune had done was to make her mom’s oh-so difficult life a bit easier. She did well in school so her mom wouldn’t worry, she studied stolen medical textbooks in order to best desensitize herself to her mom’s injuries. She experimented on rats so she could practice what she read.
And she supposed if she had any choice as to what to do now, it would be to honor her mother, whatever that entailed. She supposed her mother would want her to fight evil as she did, as well as continue her medical study. But she stopped herself, she shouldn’t speak for her mother.
Most people describe life as a continuous fight to achieve various goals, which was something Lune was never really good at. Her mom never necessarily commanded her to act a certain way, with a few exceptions. Most of the time Lune just knew what her mom wanted. Her mom wanted an easy, happy life. Everyone does. So Lune tried their best to make that happen.
That’s what drove her to this, she thinks. Avenging her mom would be the best way to bring her peace. Many people hate violence, but Lune knew now more than ever her mom wouldn’t care about that. Her mom couldn’t be a pacifist, so Lune saw no limits to what methodology ‘peace’ she had at her disposal.
It was back when her mother passed that Lune decided two things: she would bring peace to her mom, and she would continue her story. The second part was very ambiguous. The first part was more straightforward, it only had two steps.
Lune dropped her scarf on the floor of her bedroom. She may burn it, with all the candle’s she had lit. Eight in total, as that’s the number of death.
There is a pang of guilt within her, letting her mom’s funeral be on this cold, open rooftop. Maybe the candle flames will burn brighter than the moonlight. Thats the warm welcome her mom would deserve.
She had originally hoped for a more grandiose funeral. One with attendants from across the country, and with an orchestra and flowers and well, people. When she first explained her mother was dead, he responded poorly, with a click of his tongue: “Any service for your mother comes out of your pocket.”
A whole year had passed since then, much to Lune’s regret. It had taken time for Lune to even decide what her funeral should be.
And it was far from spectacular. She had gone to the dollar store and bought a pack of eight tea lights. She used her spare change she got from the register when the employees fled. She apologizes for this, theft and a falsely pulled fire alarm both likely fall under ‘dishonesty’ now that she thinks about it. Her mom was probably looking down at her with disappointment, she felt it in her bones. Still, she liked to think her mother would forgive her.
Lune knelt in the circle of candles and bowed her head, she wasn’t quite sure what she was doing, but it felt right. Maybe that meant her mom liked it, maybe her mom was even dancing around her that very instant. She felt a tug on her jaw muscles.
She’s smiling.
Maybe it was her mother’s hands guiding her face. Lune opts to smile more often.
“Mother.” she starts, “I feel your hands on my jaw, I’m happy to see you again.” she folds her hands together, and a wind brushes past them. Lune smiles again, “Yep, you are here. You followed me to my current house.”
House— not home, she clarifies. Lune will never have a home, not until the day she runs away back to the old, rundown house where her mother was.
She shakes her head, she has to stop daydreaming, she’s in the middle of a funeral. She sighs, recentering herself in the present. “Dearest mother, I promise your passing will come with peace, and with no loose ends. I only request time, I shall resolve anything that could grant you anxiety or distress.”
Lune glances back at the scarf, and grabs a pair of scissors. She begins to cut it into thin, little ribbons, small enough for the small candle flame to eat.
“Much as your end came from asphyxiation, I offer you this scarf so that I may not meet a similar fate. I must live long enough to resolve your life’s conflicts. I dedicate my life to you mother, before and above all.”
The ribbons burn fast, the fabric was far from thick. The flame licks her fingers, she doesn't mind. It’s warm, comforting, and while completely unexplainable; almost familiar.
She does this in silence, the scarf is long so it takes a long time to burn. She is too focused to notice or care, even as smoke invades her lungs.
Or that of her father’s, who barges in mid ceremony “Don’t you scaring the fire department with one of your seances Lu-”
He stares at the scene, a circle of candles being fed a poorly cut up felt scarf along with the skin of his daughter. He stands in awe, Lune looks back with interest.
“Oh father,” she starts, a slight frown. “I see you’ve arrived.” she sighs, annoyance poorly concealed.
He is unamused, rather, almost impressed by the scene before him. He looms over her, with his daughter currently on their knees. She looks up at him unphased, momentarily granting him her attention. She tries quickly to read his expression.
Whatever she had done was clearly wrong, as he slams the door to the roof behind him in a cold warning. Lune flinches, as she has several times before. She knows she’s upset him.
“Lune.” he says, a grit in his teeth.
She hesitates, staring back at the wild candle flame before her. She drops the scarf, but not her hand. The flame now licks at her wrists
“Lune.” he repeats, louder this time. She knows she can’t ignore him. She casts an innocent look over her shoulder.
He is breathing heavily, though she can tell his breath is slowing down. His arms, having seemingly been crossed, slowly begin to lower. His reddened face begins to melt into something calmer, although he remains rigidly in place. He begins to speak again, a strikingly unfamiliar layer of sympathy now in his tone. “Lune- please.” he gulps, “You’re hurting yourself.”
Lune, fully aware of her burns, gives a nonchalant glance towards her hand, if only to play with an ignorant facade. She stares at her hand, now glowing in playful orange embers. She feels a wave of guilt cross her.
She knows this hurts, not that she feels it quite yet. She can see the damages it leaves on her skin as it crawls up towards her wrist. They will have to tend to it later, for sure. No doubt it will be hard to treat, all burns are; but she can’t bring herself to retract her hand. It feels like it belongs there now, it feels comforting. Like her mother’s in that flame; like she’s holding her hand.
Knowing she’s ignoring him, her father leaves with a groan. Lune’s not sure how long he takes, but he returns with a bowl filled with water, dumping it on the candles. The candles go out all at once, and only then does Lune break from her daze. He drops the ceramic bowl on her hand, which breaks on impact. Several shards imbed in her skin.
“Clean those hands up would ya?” he spits, “We don’t need folks speculating.” He turns towards the door.
Lune looks at the bowl, then back at her father. “Dad.” she interjects, voice slightly raised. She gulps, a mild anxiety in her tone, “Wait-”
He stops, looking over his shoulder with annoyance.
She glances to the side, she hates that look. “Um,” she starts, her hand starting to blister. She grimaces from the now surfacing pain, “May I have access to the medicine cabinet? Burns are difficult to treat.”
He stops to think, and Lune feels the wounds begin to suffocate her senses. She’s asking a lot from him, she knows that. But she knows her father well enough to expect a yes, it keeps him out of trouble. He knows there would be commotion if she goes to school tomorrow with third-degree burns. He sighs with a nod. Lune guessed right.
“No aloe.” he clarifies, “You did this to yourself.”
With that he leaves quietly, and Lune stares down at her hand, yes, this will definitely scar. She should go back to the old house, she thinks. Her mom had gloves in the cedar chest. She shouldn’t hold her hands in flames anymore, maybe wearing those will make her feel close to her.
Lune stands, with the full intent of finding the cedar chest, not bothering to visit the medicine cabinet. As she stands, she hears the flapping of a bird’s wings from behind. She turns around.
mushroombo on Chapter 2 Thu 10 Feb 2022 03:39AM UTC
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