Chapter Text
Sophie woke up in tears, and that wasn’t at all surprising to her.
For the past five months, waking up in tears and not being able to sleep for the rest of the night was just normal.
The Neverseen were gone now. Fintan was dead, Ruy was dead, Vespera and Gethen and Gisela... but the nightmares wouldn’t stop.
Gisela’s grisly, unimaginably horrific death, being torn to shreds by a creature similar to a Sarlacc pit, her screams of terror and agony as the creature slowly tore her apart...
Watching Vespera be slowly impaled by a poisonous plant, slowly slowly digging deeper into her stomach, the blood dripping out slowly, seeing the pointed end of it slowly break through her back and spine...
And that’s why Sophie wanted to scream for eight years and then sleep for twenty, but she couldn’t. The deaths haunted her, even if she kept herself as guilt free as possible, considering everything... but she kept seeing Fintan’s face, Vespera’s face, Gisela’s face...
Sophie didn’t fully realise what she was doing until she felt cool metal touch her skin as she pulled her smooth dagger from her bedside table, something she was gifted by the Black Swan and still kept, just in case of an emergency. Or out of irrational paranoia.
The hilt was a moonlark, it’s silver black wings fanning out to protect her hands, and the sleek blade shone in the bright, clear moonlight from her windows, which she hadn’t shut, out of fear.
If she slept in the dark, how would she know Vespera wouldn’t be standing over her when she woke up, the plant in her abdomen and a sick, bloody smile on her face as she convulsed?
She pressed it against her arm, breathing and processing the feel of the cool metal laying flat on her skin.
What if she turned it, pressed it into that vein at her wrist, did the same for the other wrist, and then just went back to sleep?
She wouldn’t have to wake up crying ever again, the pain in her ribs and heart and head would cease, she could be free and happy, flying with Silveny in the clouds forever...
Or she could take her pathfinder, hold it to the moonlight, and then let her mind think of other things? She’d be sucked into the bright, glittering, happy world, and never have to leave. That wouldn’t be so bad.
But pain seemed to be deserved... she wondered how deep she could push it in, how much blood would spill until her body fell asleep...
And then reality smashed back into Sophie, like running full speed into the crystal walls of the pyramid at Foxfire.
She was in bed at maybe two in the morning, awake after yet another nightmare, holding a knife to her wrists.
She hadn’t even realised she’d gotten this bad... she was keeping her guilt in check, so why was this happening?
She wanted it all to stop hurting, and god was the blade tempting... but there were too many people who would experience unimaginable pain if she died.
What would it say to the people of the glittering Lost Cities, that the moonlark who’d triumphed for their world just five months ago had died, taken her own life?
How would Grady and Edaline feel? After loosing two daughters... especially after the second had freaking killed herself... they’d be.... they might just shatter... and then there’d be no Sophie to heal them.
How would Keefe feel? He needed her... his mom was dead, he was still adjusting to living with his dad again, he was still so volatile...
How would Fitz feel? Her Cognate, someone who probably maybe possibly liked her back... he’d feel guilty, guilty he didn’t realise she was so bad before it was too late... he could shatter...
They could all shatter...
But Sophie wanted all this goddamn pain to stop, just stop, leave her alone, give her a goddamn night of peace.
She wanted to make the hurt in her body go away, make the voices shut up, so she could breathe.
So she brought the knife not to her wrist but to her upper arm, almost her shoulder, where nobody would see it. Capes would cover it, and most sleeves on elven clothing were at least elbow length... she’d just not wear anything shorter than that.
Sophie breathed. In.... out...
And then she pressed it in.
It tore slowly at her flesh, and immediately blood was spilt, bubbling up from the sides of the knife, running down her arm in streams already. She watched it spill out of her with morbid curiosity and interest, totally and completely hypnotised.
When she withdrew the knife from the arm, she held it up to the moonlight to inspect it, and her lips started to curl into a sick smile at the morbid amount of blood coating it, until she realised how hard she was shaking.
Sophie took a shimmering pink cape that was hanging from a hook, the closest article of clothing to her bed besides what she was wearing, wiped the dagger off with it, set it slowly, quietly back onto the bedside table, and pressed the cape to the wound, hoping to staunch the blood flow.
When she was pretty sure it’d stopped, she didn’t bother getting up to bandage it... what was the use?
She hated how she felt so much better.... and simultaneously adored it, craved it... wanted to do it again and again until all the aches and pains of being alive went away.
But she just pulled the sheets up to her chin, closed her eyes, and waited for sleep to come again.
The next day, she woke up with dried blood and a cut on her arm, and just wiped off the blood, put on her Foxfire uniform, thanking whatever gods or goddesses that were out there for the long sleeves, even though she already wore those 90% of the time when she wasn’t in Foxfire, Grady and Edaline had no reason to question her sleeves.
It might’ve been just her, but the many sparking jewels on her Ruwen family crest seemed to shine brighter than usual today, as she used it to fasten her cape at her collarbone.
Edaline had conjured up something called Clar Vara’s for breakfast. They tasted like cinnamon and apple pie, and she hated every bite. She wanted to throw up at just the very thought of eating, at the actual action... she’d rather remove her stomach with her own two hands than continue eating.
But they would worry if she didn’t clean her plate, didn’t talk to them before school, didn’t give them one last smile as she stepped under the Leapmaster 500.
And when she glittered onto the purple grassed campus, her stomach twisted again. She really, really, really couldn’t handle school right now. She was exhausted, feeling like she might pass out. She just wanted to sleep...
And then she saw Biana and Keefe glitter onto the grass... and nearly started crying. The reality of her deep, deep want to be hugged, held, and comforted hit her in the gut, and she regretted not hugging Edaline after breakfast, or Grady... even Iggy...
Sophie hadn’t realised she was crying until she saw Biana in front of her, wiping away her tears with her thumb and cupping her cheek, asking what was wrong.
She felt herself melt into the touch, and was disgusted at how starved for it she found herself.
”Sophie? Sophie, you’re scaring me... please say something...” Biana whispered, grabbing her gloved hand with her own free hand and rubbing her palm over the back. Keefe was next to her, looking on, concern knitted into his features, and she realised she’d been staring into space.
”F-Fine... I’m okay..”
Biana looked unimpressed, and gently guided Sophie to sit down. Her thumb glided over the sore, dark circle underneath Sophie’s left eye. “These dark circles have become a permanent feature... you’re staring into space and crying... I want to help you, please let me help you because you’re clearly hurting.”
No matter how much Sophie’s brain screeched at her to just stop, she responded by just crying harder.
Biana pulled her into a tight hug, and Keefe joined in, hugging from the side. Sophie hated how her limbs turned to Jello at the affection, the love, hated the sound of her choked sobs, hated how she was surely soaking the front of Biana’s tunic, and yet, she couldn’t bring herself to care.
The memory of the pain from the previous night brought her back, and she promised herself more of that if she calmed down. She didn’t deserve her friend’s worry or love, and people were probably staring.
She gathered herself up and held herself together as best as she could, sniffling and sitting up.
”Wanna fill us in, Foster?” Keefe tried to be joking and light, but couldn’t succeed. The worry was painfully obvious and she despised it.
“Woke up five or six times with nightmares... couldn’t sleep for real at all. Vespera’s death..”
Keefe had been there for that, but he’d been knocked out during the fight that had preceded Vespera’s death. He woke up to Sophie’s screams as she realised Verspera was really gone, as she realised that she’d died like that.
He’d initially celebrated, and Sophie just curled up in a ball and cried.
So he bought the excuse easily, offering her company later, a sleepover. Biana agreed, and Sophie said she’d think about it... but she knew she was going to turn them down so she could be alone... because that’s what she deserved.
Sophie held herself together with thin strings of faint hope and promises of relief later, and faced the day.