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there he is.
( coward. )
it has been ever so lonely, for such a long time. maybe lilith isn't alone, yes, but loneliness is different to that. too different. everything is too different. oh, the things she would do to make it go back to how it was. fifteen years later, and she's still trying to pick herself up. it's so tiring. how dare he? how dare any of them- or rather, either of them. they left them. both of them, just left them. her parents and her siblings and— and her. they left them like they were nothing.
papa just had to go and die, didn't he? everything was fine. everything was fine! and then he went and ruined it.
went and died.
stupid man. ( everyone is stupid. she's so sick of people being stupid. wake up, can't you see they need your help? ) and then baba. left. he left them. why? ( were they not worth it? ) selfish. ( aren't they all? ) but now he's back.
why is he back?
there he is, almost within arm's reach. sitting in the thick, humid clamour of the tavern she's practically lived in for the past few days. days spent drinking, nights spent with strangers she doesn't know the faces of, will never know the names of. will they remember her? ( does anybody remember her? ) some of that is of her own doing, of course. perks of being what she is. ( don't you mean "who", lilith? ) an emanator, they say. what does that really mean? but the enigmata — it's cloaked in mystery, and so, to an extent, she can cloak their memories in such mystery too. when they think back, there will only be a misty fog in place of her face. this is for the better. ( she does it to herself sometimes too. nights she never wants to think of again. how that now, she never can. )
sometimes, lilith wonders: would it just be better, easier, quicker for all of them if she were to remove herself from their existences? she's a spy for a reason. she goes unnoticed when she needs to, and noticed when she wants to. usually, home is the only place she knows she doesn't have to try to be one or the other. they will know when she's there.
that has changed now. it has been such a long time, but are you sure it wasn't really just yesterday? now everybody is swallowed in their duties and their partners and their memories, and lilith only has duties now. not to say she doesn't have many of those. she has too much. but it's fine.
it's fine.
never mind fending off the destruction, never mind adventures amongst the pinpricks of light they call stars, that will she ever truly be able to see? lilith has duties. lilith vasilyeva-oak is doing more behind the scenes than people give her credit for. that's just the way she wants it. ( right? ) she doesn't want the attention. ( look at her. someone. please. she's going mad like this. someone, look at her. is she invisible to the world, as well as just her family? her family, that is breaking apart at the seams. cotton filling pouring out at the tears. ) oh, papa. why did you go?
couldn't it have been her? it could have. isn't she just him in the end, anyway? she must count as a descender too. nobody would have broken apart with her death, as they did with his. papa. come back. deep breath in. deep breath out. ( she sounds like him too, reciting those words every time he was not as calm as possible. the pinnacle of control, the epitome of calmness. he could have been the emanator of self-control. )
back to baba. she sees him there, sitting in the corner of that tavern. it's the same tavern that mama mother and he first met in front of, such a long time ago. but she'll never know that. papa is never coming back, and mother- ...she isn't really going to come back either, is she?
she resists the urge to break down into big, gulping sobs suddenly, tears rolling down her face. eyes rimming red, mouth warping into a crude imitation of what it was before. someone save her. is anybody out there? but she doesn't. breath in, breath out, after all. wipe the water welling in your eyes, and pick yourself up. duties, remember?
does it occur to her that he is sitting in the corner, rather than surrounded by a throng of loud, drunk people? that he's not laughing and chatting and ordering cocktails; just waving over his next full bottle of snezhnayan firewater? it does, of course. but why would she acknowledge that?
( why would she consider the fact that he's been hurt too? of course he's been hurt. it would be stupid to think he hasn't, but- just let her have this. for a little bit longer. )
should she talk to him? not now. not yet. she wants to. or maybe she wants to grab him, wants to hit him and scream at him and cry, "why did you leave me us?" ( don't make it about you, there are people who have been hurt more. ) stop overreacting, lilith. and so she waits.
for someone who never seems it, she has always been quite extraordinarily patient.
it is hours before loki leaves the tavern, but lilith never takes her eyes off him once. rejects the people who offer her a drink, and the ones who try to take her upstairs. ( lilith hates upstairs. )
when he steps out into the blistering snowstorm, she is right behind him, watching his every move. chances are he can tell she's there — or perhaps he can't, since she's cloaked herself in enigmata and keeps to the shadows.
and she watches still, as he takes momentary refuge under a crude wooden shelter that is still standing by some miracle even in the howling winds. he lights a cigarette and brings it to his lips. the puffs of smoke are barely visible, not in the midst of the whirling snow. ( mother, wake up. return to how you used to be. ) nothing has ever been the same since, but can't anyone even try? loki had the right idea. run, run away.
she can't even blame him for it. what a hypocrite she is: if he hadn't gotten there first, she would have run instead.
she sees him discard the cigarette, crumpling out the last embers with his fingers. and as he brings out another one, she takes a deep breath. ( one in, one out. come on, papa. did you ever leave, even now? )
the box is in his hand. now is the time. she steps behind him, emphasizing her footsteps, pulling off the enigmata's fog around her. she looks at the box of cigarettes. inhale. exhale.
( please, papa. where are you? )
“got a spare?”