Work Text:
"When you saw the dead little bird you started crying, but you know the killer doesn't understand" Phoebe Bridgers // Moon Song
The bird was dead. Head ripped off lying in the sand. Blood drying in the sun. Copper didn't understand why Lucy was crying over it. Things die in the wasteland, it is the order of things.
Lucy wanted to pick it up and find its head, stitch its head back on and make it perfect again. She wanted it to breathe and sing, soar in the sky. Alive and unstoppable.
“Can we bury it?” Lucy asked, wiping the tears from her face. She hated crying and she hated crying in front of Cooper even more so.
“Whatever, just don't take all day about it. I ain't stopping every five minutes for you to bury dead things I hope you know that.”