Just here to say hello. Hello! How are you? Formalities: done. I've had a number of ideas involving Rita and Raven after Baction and they drive me insane because they ALL follow the same kind of skeleton. So, I thought I'd finally get to writing a version that's... well, it's not really dark, but kind of a dark feeling... you know? I mean I tried to play out a fluffy fluff fluffmuffins version in my head and it was just... ugh. I'm horrible with fluffmuffins because they get so cheesy they're like blue cheese, and I don't like blue cheese... especially out of character blue cheese, because I don't think I can write fluff without characters being slightly out of character.

Because my view on Rita is maybe always going to be that she does not mull over boys like the whole "okay here's the deal. I'm in love with _ and he doesn't know about it, so I'm going to imagine little girly things in my head and be all sad and depressed because Judith is bouncy and Estelle is bubbly and I'm just a mean crabby-" NO. Just... No. She may be a teen but she's logical and not (too) cliche and blah blah blah.

I'm sorry for the rant. On with the short short chapter.

(I can't write long things. They're hard.)

x

There are times when Rita finds herself waking up in the middle of the night drenched in cold sweat. Sometimes she wakes up with tears streaming down her cheeks - sometimes with the feeling of instant relief when she opens her eyes and the tension in her jaw eases. But every time, she remembers all the little details of her vivid dreams. The clash of sword against sword, the heat of engulfing flames, each drip of sweat that rolls down her cheek, crimson blood flowing down from his chest, her neck, their faces, and the dull eyes so lifeless, so unresponsive, they're never going to open again and oh god what have I done, why did this have to happen-

Sometimes she wakes up without remembering whether she had a dream of sunny days and clear skies or a dream of nightmares and bloodshed, but all the same she's just glad to be relieved of the tears and the pain and the neverending regret.

Even as she sits staring at the campfire with bags under her eyes and legs to her chest, she can't help but glance at each sleeping figure nearby. There is one that her eyes roam over longer, and sometimes she watches so long she forgets that she's awake. Shadows fall over her eyes that stare at nothing, bringing her back to the world she tries so hard to escape from, and she's struggling and screaming and scrabbling at those long, dark arms pulling her down, down, down, she's suffocating-

-until she blinks and realizes that the fire has long since died and the horizon is already beginning to fill with oranges and yellows, peaches and pinks. Her fists unclench and her jaw unwinds once again. She stands to clear her head, putting down wood on the ashen remnants with a plunk. Palms outstretched, fire re-lit, Rita braces herself for a new day of waiting; waiting for her dreams of nightmares to pass by.

All the while unaware of the eyes that watch her in the dark.