Warnings for past character death and violence, PTSD, general trauma, grief, coping mechanisms, breakdowns, etc.
Full
Digimon do bleed, did you know that?
They don't have hearts, but they do bleed.
Blood doesn't mean much, at least to her. That is only encouragement to keep going, to finish the job. Otherwise she could die.
Dying. Left sauce sloppy butter taste in her throat.
Sure, it was inevitable. She had seen that, caused it. She had watched it happen, watched her superior fade away in old age, a miracle of war. She knew that. But it was still too much.
Better to cause it than to watch it.
Yet, here she was, in a place where humans bleed and die all the time. She sat on the hospital chair, too uncomfortable for her to sit naturally in her child form, and even smaller for anything much further on. She watches the small girl in her bed, watches the father stand guard from the other side of the room. He is going grey already, despite his clear youth. What was the human phrase, 'wise beyond his years'? No, that was complimentary. She didn't want to think of it to be honest. Too close.
So she looks away and watches the girl. Her small chest rises and falls too slowly. At least they keep cleaning the blood. Next to her, wrapped slightly in one of the sheets, was a tiny thing, barely out of toddlerhood, hair and skin as white as the fabric. Small and chubby, someone who should have had a happy life.
Dianamon knew she wouldn't be in this place if that was the case. Digimon of her caliber didn't go to happy people. That wasn't arrogance, that was reality. This place proved it. She gave the room another glance.
This place, the girl in it, looked like a breeze could blow her away. It probably could.
Wane
Physically, she heals fast, too fast. She had missed the battle, the roaring of the accursed dragon, the woman full of rage as she had men fire bullet after bullet, death like dominoes. Artemis is impressed despite her iron clad vow to not be too impressed by humans too often. That is a dangerous creature. Either a mother or a family member or a mourner. Or all of those.
Mentally, the girl in the bed is a wreck. She sometimes giggles brokenly in her sleep. Artemis thinks of Ceresmon, who loves so much sometimes it makes her physically ill. This girl reminds her of that. She is a husk, a scarecrow with purple hair. It's a little bewildering.
It's the twins, her brother, it's the battlefield. She cannot fight disease. She cannot fight depression.
Why else would she leave the other behind?
Their hair makes them blur together.
She wants to leave. Every fake giggle makes her nauseous.
They don't even look at her.
She's afraid of the cracked family looking at her. What if they welcome her in too? Will she have to watch them fade away as she refuses to go? As god like love and hunter's skill refuses to let her pass.
She can give up her place on the throne. There's a way. Let the young take their place.
And leave her brother all alone on those pedestals. Leave new life entirely up to chance, and be unable to heal those who deserve it. Or destroy those who are not.
No, she can't give it up yet.
She balls her paws into fists and sits, watches the sun set, the routine change. A man comes in sometimes. He'll smell like tears and cough drops and the girl will smile blankly at him. He will look more and more despondent each time.
Are humans more stubborn than Digimon after all?
New
There are nights that the girl screams in her sleep. Those are long nights. She bites and screams and lashes out like she must have wanted to hen she could breathe and think for herself. She cries until she loses her voice. She cries until purple are bright blue and tells deluded stories to the moonbeams about the end of the world and making it happen with her own two hands.
And still Artemis watches. Her water, her scythe, all weapons are useless here.
One day she's strapped to the bed and babbling almost excitedly about a time where she won hide and seek because her mama had taught her how to be silent for a very long time. And another time how the friends she can't remember held her very tight and grew so angry that her head ached.
This human is insane. This human is broken. There is nothing Artemis can do for her. Yet she can't find herself leaving the window she came in from.
Sometimes, she catches the little girl (she's almost twelve, she realizes) staring at her, staring like she is a fascinating creature on the other side of the glass. But which one of them is the one with no freedom?
This is the problem with partnerships, with connections, she thinks vaguely.
One night, she screams and cries and goes silent too quickly. She's lost all capacity for sound.
Artemis crawls to her side and remains there for the rest of the night. She doesn't know why.
Half-asleep, the girl giggles in her ear. "Luna," she babbles in delight. "Luna, lunaa~"
Artemis swallows and curls closer. Luna it was.
Wax
She goes home while Artemis is sleeping. Probably while she herself is sleeping. Whatever the case, the fear fills her like a bag of seeds and she's out the window before she can stop herself. Artemis is a blur of white and blue. She forgets her scythe and melts it because waving that around in midair screams for partial blindness but she doesn't care.
She cares about the girl. She had heard her name a hundred times by now but couldn't remember it but saying goodbye was the right thing to do surely. If she couldn't even remember the name, she was pretty useless. So she should cut it off like the last one, right to the throat.
She lands where the smell is where the purple aura like the dusk sky is overflowing too high and she reaches the apartment door and-
Knocks.
What is she thinking? What is she doing? This won't make it any easier. This is polite. She can't get close! That will make it so much worse.
And then the girl opens the door and smiles too bright and too real that it has to be a fake. "Luna!"
There's not enough regret to stop her from answering.
"Yeah," Artemis agrees. "I'm Luna."
Blue
The air is so welcoming. It's warm and like her brother in how friendly it is. The father watches her thoughtfully, puts a teacup by her paws.
Somehow, he, a human, scares her.
Luna tries to watch her partner toss and turn on the couch instead. Toss and turn and sleepily answer her sister's murmuring of her name.
Sayo.
Evening.
Her name alludes to the setting sun, to the end of the day, of hope. And yet she could still fake a smile and she still liked to hold Luna no matter how wet things became or how cold she got. She was still crying in her sleep but there was no more biting, no howls that could call back the dead. Just sobs that she could hug away.
She shouldn't be so deluded. But it was the bed she had made. It was time now to lie in it.
A/N: So, I post this before I post the Moon update, which is related to this on a few levels. Also Luna is a very interesting, fun character to write, so going into her was a blast. Please read and review!
Challenges: Diversity Writing Challenge (Digimon) C49. build a relationship between two characters not together at the beginning of the fic (partnershippppp!) and Ultimate Sleuth 1.6 - Write about an awkward interaction.