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It had been a year since Estas death.
Seth doubted anyone knew, or cared for that matter, but he did. He’d kept track of the days since the battle, and today was the anniversary of her death.
Even though they never spoke of her, Seth could tell that whenever her name was mentioned by accident, the air would suddenly become thick with tension.
Anaya would glance away, change the subject.
Petra would suppress an eye roll and pretend to not have heard.
They pretended as though she'd never even existed, or mattered, for that matter.
But Seth would tense up, as if the mere mention of her name was painful to him, too unbearable for him to hear. His feathers would flare slightly before he forced them to relax, and he too would fall into silence, left speechless in an awkward sort of guilt he'd never properly figure out.
Even when no one brought up her name, sometimes he'd lay awake at night and recount the moment she died in his mind, a picture perfect recollection as though he was reliving it again.
They were in the air, gaze locked on one another.
And in a matter of seconds, she was gone. Just like that. An array of blue feathers drifting in the air before forever returning to earth.
He'd squeeze his eyes shut and try not to remember the last time he saw her. He tried reminding himself that she was the enemy.
She chose to fight alongside the Cryptogens, betraying he and everyone else. *She* had hurt Petra, and tried having her killed for trying to rescue them all.
But then he remembered the first time he'd seen her in the bunker, the strange allure he felt towards her, like in that instance, he knew they were the same.
He remembered the first time he'd laid his eyes on her wonderous deep blue feathers, the way she ferociously struck at the punching bag and torn it to shreds.
He remembered the first time they'd spoken, the way his eyes never left her face while she was speaking, or when she was silent. The way her hand would flex when she sketched whatever came to mind on the bland paper they were offered, and how she could transform it into something so beautiful, you wouldn't even remember how empty the paper was beforehand.
He remembered the first time they'd used silent talking, the way her scent drifted into his head easily, and he identified it almost instantly, or how whenever they called out to each other, a response was almost immediately given to ease the others worry.
And then he'd wake up, and remember that he'd never get to experience anymore ‘firsts’ with her. He'd remember how she was never given a proper burial because her body hadn't been recovered, and how she likely wouldn't have gotten one either way, since everyone deemed her a traitor.
It was all he could do to try and forget about her and move on, but he couldn't bring himself to. He couldn't do something as horribly selfish as that, to forget her when he was the only one who'd known her.
He promised himself to carry on her memory, even if it was silently as to not burden the others. He promised that when he did eventually die, when he joined her in death, he'd return to her in the eternal wind, and they'd fly together forever.
|•••|
It always took awhile to get here, which was why Seth typically left early in the morning to save time.
Making his way through the thick field of grass, he made it to the other side and paused to take in the open clearing, closing his eyes and breathing in the clean air filtering through his lungs, the sound of nature around him, and the wind ruffling his feathers.
After a beat, he opened his eyes and looked down at the gravestone before him and swallowed.
It was never easy coming here, but he forced himself to endure it for her, bending down to peel off the vines that'd grown over it, and replacing the dead flowers with fresh ones, the bouquet an array of pink carnations and chrysanthemums.
Once he was done cleaning the headstone he sat and looked at the name engraved in it.
‘Esta Collins’
It sent an involuntary jerk to his heart and he felt the tears before he could stop them, his body beginning to tremble as his cries transitioned to sobs.
“I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't save you.” He sobbed, sniffling and wiping at his tears as he tried to compose himself. This was another reason why it was so difficult for him to come here, he couldn't bear knowing that he'd been the only one to care enough to make her a headstone, and to find the perfect spot to put it.
He cried until his eyes were red and puffy, and he was sure no tears would further interrupt him. Pulling himself together, he sighed and ran his fingers over the letters, messy and rough, yet proven to be placed there with herculean effort.
He remembered the night he decided to do it, how he'd missed the bus in the morning because he'd stayed up all night working, and how triumphant he'd felt when he finished it, even going as far as to paint a few feathers on it, blue feathers alongside greenish purple ones.
He remembered going out to find the perfect spot for it, and deciding on here. An open terrain surrounded by a few trees with vines draping down from branches.
He figured she might like someplace like this. Quiet, away from others, and surrounded by nature completely.
He let himself get swept up in his thoughts before being pulled out of them by leaves falling around him in the gentle blow of the breeze, and he realized it was getting late.
Shit.
If he was home late his mom would definitely be curious about his whereabouts, and he didn't want to have to explain where he'd been for the past few hours.
Pushing himself off the ground, he stood and dusted off his pants, glancing down at the gravestone and feeling the familiar tug at his heart.
Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out one of his covert feathers that he'd shed and placed it with the flowers, carefully tucking it in so it wouldn't be blown away with the wind.
Casting one last last glance at the gravestone, Seth waved as though Esta herself would see it, and left, reminiscing on the past while he made his way through the field once more to return home.