Chapter Text
Day 35
Sunlight streaked low across the shoreline of an isolated beach on the California coast, stretching unimpeded across the pristine sand before meeting the sea. The endless motions of the water captured the light and threw it back out, transforming the waves into a sparkling expanse that stretched endlessly before Eleanor. As she stood digging her toes into the warm sand a breeze kicked up, teasing the choppy edges of her homemade bob. The gust brought with it the earthy sweetness of soil and the sharp crispness of salt water, and as the wind slowed she took a deep breath, savoring the summer air as it filled her lungs. Just as she began to doze off, lulled into sleep by the heat of the day and the white noise of the waves, a thud from the home behind her brought her back to reality. Gracefully she rolled over and stood up, kicking loose sand free from her feet as she made for the front door.
Inside the cabin was nearly bare and clearly worn with age, with little evidence anyone had ever made it a home save for the faint outline of picture frames on the walls, ghostly in their transparency. Making her way to the source of the commotion, Eleanor stopped before the open door and took a calming breath to steel her resolve before shouldering the wood aside and stepping in. “Mother?”
Half sitting, half crawling, Sofia Lamb looked depressingly human; a pale, tired woman wrestling against the limitations of her wheelchair, no longer the demiurge of Eleanor’s childhood. At the sound of the doors hinges she looked up sharply, her cheeks burning red from exertion. “Eleanor?”
“Mother, what are you doing?”
“I was... merely looking.”
Helping her mother back into the chair was easier than expected; Sofia was thinner than she’d ever been before, and in Eleanor's grip she felt more like porcelain then flesh. Satisfied, Sofia gripped her stiff leg by the ankle and arranged the limb onto the footplate before leaning back to maneuver the other into place. While her right was sluggish, the left was entirely unresponsive, and it took both hands to make it join its sibling on the footplate. A bitter combination of pity and rage threatened to overwhelm her as she watched her mother adjust herself, stopping to smooth her skirt across gaunt thighs. Something about those graceful pianist hands, fluttering like pale moths over the grey shirtdress made a deep pain stir in her, old agony from childhood rising from the depths. Her entire childhood had been starved of that tenderness and some pathetic part of her was still ravenous for it, shamefully covetous of any form approval. Sofia had kept her at arm's length, sheltering and feeding her solely for the goal of having a test subject. Being a lab-rat daughter had cleaved her into pieces, into two half-girls who fought each other, pushing and pulling like the tide. Part of her, saddled with the long-burning anger of the abuse, wanted to abandon her mother and leave her helpless to the horror of the world. The other part was equally naked in her desperation, digging in her heels to keep Eleanor where she was for as long as necessary in a childish attempt to salvage the relationship.
If Eleanor could only pick a side, sweep away the emotional leftovers and do what had to be done she could be free from this cage of indecisiveness. Instead she was here- standing woodenly over her mother, drinking in every little motion of delicate fingers. It wasn’t until her mother’s voice pricked at her concentration that she came to, looking back into eyes just a few shades darker than her own.
“...Sorry?”
“I was asking about the meal preparation,” Sofia spoke softly, voice low and posture deliberately nonthreatening, as if Eleanor was a wild animal only a hair’s breadth away from attacking. “...for tonight.”
Since settling on the surface, meals had become a twice-daily affair (lunch was a luxury beyond them now) and had mostly been the result of foraging- though over the days, the food had slowly evolved from prepackaged snacks and scavenged scraps into genuine hot meals, caught by Eleanor and painstakingly prepared by Sofia. The cooking was more of a joint venture than expected- the cottage had no heating or gas, making Eleanor herself the source, open-palm cradling the base one of their few pans as the Incerinate! in her blood warmed the metal. Gliding behind her like a spectre, Sofia hovered closely and fed her instructions, watching with familiar eagle eyes. Most evenings were spent as such, utterly silent save for the sparse words between them and the occasional for the crackle of flame. There, suspended by the scent from the cooking fire and the crash of the tide outside with her mother’s gentle instruction in her ear Eleanor Lamb could almost pretend all was well.
Swallowing thickly, Eleanor nodded. “I’ll take care of it,” she said softly, her tongue heavy in her mouth. Without waiting she turned and fled the cabin, long strides carrying her back outside by the exact same path as she’d entered. Stopping only to retrieve her old boots she sprinted onto the clean yellow of the sand before slowing, kicking off her shirt and shorts before wading into the surf in nothing but her Teenforms. Diving deeper reduced the world into a simpler form; turkish blue water rushed to fill her vision as the ocean closed over her. It felt like an embrace, the presence more maternal then the hands she had just escaped.