Song listened to: 'Heaven Knows' by Hillsong UNITED
When she cried there was a rawness to it, like the pain was still an open wound. She would clasp onto something, anything, anyone, for support and then her whole body would shake with the force of her cries. The sobs were stifled at first as she tried to hide them from sight, tried to cement the strength that she was known for, then, overcome by the wave of her emotions she would break down entirely, all of her defenses washed away in her salty tears; the sarcasm and the wit, the walls that had been built to protect from the pain, everything, it all washed away in those salty tears.
When she finally turned to them, she was a picture of grief, loss, and devastation. The product of a war that had broken them all. Something that had been broken, from deep within, and had not been able to be truly stitched up again. The picture of their greatest mistake, the proof of the damage they could cause, the result of something that could have be prevented had they not blown things as much as they had.
It was the face of someone who had suffered before and didn't know if they were strong enough to do it again. It was the eyes of one who had seen so much more then they told and kept it to themselves for the sake of everyone else.
The windows to the torn soul, at the hands of those that were meant to protect them, as they had taken the proverbial bullet that they had shot. The pain was strong, all encompassing, and shone brighter than even the brightest star.
She was the picture of someone who had survived through horrors most would have fallen to, who had taken it all without denial and refusal to lose the battle struggling around them, and it would shine a pain in her eyes that she hid with practiced perfection behind a smile and childlike giggles. A true victim of a war that had not been hers to fight, but had still taken her captive, broken by the hands of those they were meant to trust.
And then the shutters would come down, the tears soaked back up, the emotion walled off behind the mask that had been perfected for a long time, as a way of coping with the trauma suffered in solitude. She would wear it until everything was right again, until they no longer saw her break, until they turned away again, and then it would crumble in the silence and solitude all over again.
She didn't know any other way.
But every now and then that mask would crack, the smile would falter, and the giggle would break. Her bright eyes would dim, sparkling with more than just childlike innocence that they all knew was stolen despite her brave attempts to prove otherwise.
Nisroc would found her in the Garden, in the spot they had met for the very first time, alone and silent in the surrounding trees, but her shoulders quaking with a force unseen. He would step around to her front, kneeling to lift away the little hands, and the red, tear-rimmed eyes would stare back at him. Watery streaks falling down a smooth face. He would stroke a hand down the back of her head, not uttering a word into the silence of the vulnerable moment and wipe away the tears fro the cheeks which were now blotchy and mottled. Her face was now washed with a dull red, all the way to the very end of her little nose, and he would just pull her into an embrace. Tight and strong. She would clutch to his front as more crystal-like tears soaked into his tunic, he would sit back, pulling her with him, and they would sit in the silence together.
The Healer would come to find her hiding in the far corner of his office, and he would step in gingerly, his previous occupation completely forgotten at the discovery and he would step quickly across the threshold and kneel before the distressed fledgling.
As she cried her bottom lip quivered, the same as a baby pushed passed endurance. Her eyes became glacier blue under the sheen of water, constant, yet allowing the tears to flow without pause. A rare moment of vulnerability that was not typically allowed by the strongest little fledgling he knew. The pain that as felt everyday in silent endurance finally allowed to be seen by another. In that moment, seeing her stare up at him with a broken watery reflection in her eyes, he understood the depth of pain that had been sitting just below her skin, the pain she kept to herself to save everyone else from the heart break.
He let the tears flow, it was healthier to let it out, after all, then it was to bottle up. But he would lean forward and curls his fingers around her midsection, as he pulled her up to sit in his lap and she would curl into his chest as another wave crashed free from the deep sea of emotion.
The Choir Master would be jerked awake to violent shaking of the little body next to him. He'd rub at his eyes, not really sure why he had woken in the first place, and the violent jerking to his left would make him look down to see what was the cause of it. His little charge was curled up on her side, curled into a tight ball, facing the other direction and shaking like a leaf.
Her breaths were uneven and hitched occasionally, her little shoulders and form shaking with the force of the silent sobs.
At first he thought it a bad dream, she had them frequently when it stormed out, and as lightning lit up the sky through the great window of his bedroom, he heard the small softness of a sniffle, which brought him to the conclusion that she wasn't having a bad dream, for she wasn't sleeping.
He would lay back down, facing her on his side, and reach out to grab her with his free arm. Pulling her around to hide instead in his chest, he would press his face into her curls as she heaved with the same silent sobs that had woken him from sleep, neither of them would sleep that night, not until he felt her silently cry herself out.
The oldest found her in his office, sitting in his chair, bent over to hide herself on the wide desk surface. Her shoulders shook, and he walked into the office, softly dismissing the Power that had come with him, though Puriel would remain where he stood.
He would set a large gentle hand on the top of her head and she would look up at him.
A single tear would roll down her cheek, and then another, and another. Stinging the already tear stained face. Her little eyes now filling with tears glistening in the light, bouncing sadness through the atmosphere.
The Prince would kneel, turning his chair around, and pull her to him. With one rough, but gentle, hand under her chin, he angles her face toward him and kissed the tears away.
Gabriel found her sitting in his room, perched on his bed, fingers curled tightly in the blanket he curled up in during sleep. She would have her face buried in it, and as he sat on the edge of his bed, he'd pull it away with a gentleness not all would associate to him.
He refused to look away as she looked up at him, even as her lips trembled and her shoulders heaved with emotion, unwilling to back down.
Her dark lashes brimmed heavy with tears; her hands clenched tight around his blanket in shaking fists, in a desperate battle against the grief that haunted her in her silence and crafted masks.
A lone tear traced down her cheek, and just like that, the floodgates would open. She wept, tears streaming from her deep blue eyes, loud, heaving sobs tearing from her throat, and still he did not look away.
The Messenger let go of his blanket, in favor of wrapping it around her, letting the warmth help sooth some of the unseen pain away, and he would curl her close as she let him see her break.
They would all find her, back in the Garden, having come in search for the young fledgling that always asked her to play with her on the day of rest, when she did not turn up in their Pavilion. Joshua would turn at their approach, eyes glistening with pain and sadness, and would turn his head slightly for them to step up and witness what he did.
As much as their Baby Power tried to hold it in, her little body shaking from the effort, the pain came out like an uproar from her throat in the form of a silent scream. Hands clenched into tight little fists, she bent forward with the silent force, tears streaming down her pained face. The beads of water falling down one after another without any sight of stopping. She fell to her knees, the wall crumbling, and tidal wave crashing to the surface, all the pain and heartbreak she kept safely hidden away now pouring for all those close enough to witness. The muffled sobs wracked against her heaving chest.
The world turned into a blur, and so did all other sounds, the taste, the smells. Everything was gone. The last painful emotion slammed against her before she lost the feeling of feeling. Numbness took hold, overpowering the agony of the invisible wound, and everything darkened into nothingness as she passed into the oblivion of unconsciousness, the last thing she saw being the dark silhouettes of bodies coming closer and closer.