Sorry, it's been so long, but a lot of things have come up. This is a dedication to JuJukins who's a loyal reviewer on Echoes Of War (and figured out Angel's ordeal. I swear she's in my head.) Disclaimer: If I owned the world would end. Plain and simple.
They split. It wasn't the first time, though it was as spontaneous and violent as the time before.
And just as the first time, Max had picked up a peculiar habit of writing letters that she never planned to send and never reread. This quirk carried on even when the flock rejoined as one.
This activity was usually done in the moonlight or by a cheap candle or motel-hotel lamp that was almost always flickering or just barely hanging by a thread. A small collection slowly came to be in the small pocket situated in the pack she carried everywhere.
And the first was as spontaneous as the rest, just as their break-ups and fall-outs.
Dear Fang, I really don't know why I'm writing this, after all, I know it'll never get sent out (considering I have no idea where you are, much less how to get this to you,) but I guess it could count as 'closure' though no one has died (hopefully). I guess I'm just a sentimental fool, but I wish I could see you. And Iggy and Gazzy too, I suppose. But you're the one my mind tells me I need more than air itself. Not that I'd ever admit that out loud. Shut up voice... Yours truly,
Maximum Ride
Now, there were blood spatters on the paper, signalling Max had carried it in her pocket or somewhere else easily reached for some amount of time.
Dear Fang, It's been two weeks since our fight at that cabin. Ari's expiration date is ticking closer and closer, a fact I'm sure you're rejoicing, but I can't help but be sad about his imminent death. Again, this is another letter that no one else shall see. Hopefully. Once again,
Maximum Ride
Those were the first of many, progressing to where the blonde wrote these letters religiously every night, even after the flock was reformed.
The notes went through an odd cycle; mourning complexion, friendly then leading to a confession of love. But no one suspected the little shards of herself Max had nestled away in her backpack, tucked away from the world's prying eyes.
The letters sat cradled away in her pack, never being opened after their initial writing.
Dear Fang, I have almost a hundred letters in this pocket, and I realise now that these little unsent letters have become a part of my day. I'm looking at you now, though you probably don't even notice. You never do. You're writing on your blog, as always, and I can't help but wonder what you write about. I'm tired and have (another) headache. Not that you really care. Love you always,
Maximum Ride.
Of course the leader had thought about pulling those letters out, showing them to the raven, but always refrained.
After all, some letters were better left unsent.
Well, tell me what you think? I worked a long time on writing this, and I'm always worried about OOC ^^. ---Artemis