A/N: So I do want to apologize in advance because there's probably going to be a lot of stigma against addiction/alcoholism in this fic - a lot of unfavorable comments - because it's from Raven's perspective and that's what feels true to her character. Addiction is an illness and abuse is a choice. But for Raven it's difficult not to see the abuse as the sole result of her mother's addiction. And to be fair, that addiction did contribute a lot to the abuse, particularly when it came to her mother's neglect - but it wasn't what made her abusive. And on the Ark, parents struggling with addiction couldn't seek out support or get help. So I just wanted to apologise for that in advance
"I really am sorry," Adria murmured, voice almost too low to hear. The peace of sleep hadn't stayed with her long. "I'm sorry I broke it."
Despite Luna's earlier reassurances, she could tell that Adria still felt guilty about the music box. The knowledge pained her. If these were Adria's final days, she didn't want them to be tarnished by such a wretched emotion.
Luna closed her eyes.
But they're not.
They're not her final days.
They just had to get to Nyko.
Opening her eyes, Luna schooled her features. She reached out and tapped a gentle finger against the lid. "If it's broken, why didn't you throw it away? Why do you have it now?"
Adria clutched the music box closer, eyes dropping. "Because. . ."
"Because it still has value. Whether it can sing or not. It will always have value. . . broken doesn't mean worthless. This box may not work the way it used to but that doesn't make it any less precious. It is still the same box and it still brings you comfort. That's all that matters."
Adria pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, kneading the wood with her fingers. "Maybe it's not broken. Maybe it's just wounded. Like I was when you found me. I couldn't sing then either."
Luna smiled, remembering the child who hadn't been able to speak a word. "I think you're right. And maybe one day it will find a way to heal and sing for you again, even if it never sounds exactly the same."
"Will your friend Nyko know how to heal it?"
She hesitated, looking down and threading her fingers through Adria's, where they still rested over the box. "I don't think so, my love." Adria's expression fell and she scrambled for a solution. "But we can try and find someone who does."
Luna ignored the voice in the back of her head that whispered the impossibility of this. That even if such a person existed - as she was sure they did - neither she nor Adria would have time to find them.
Nyko will help.
Nyko will know how to heal this.
Heal her.
"Luna, what will happen to Derrick's song?" Adria's voice broke through to her, dousing her in confusion as she struggled to grasp where the conversation had wandered to without her.
Struggled to move on from the all-consuming terror, seeping into her chest.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, his family were entrusted to keep it safe. He was supposed to keep it alive. He told me that. . . but now he's gone. And now we. . ."
She could see in Adria's eyes that she felt responsible for this too. That it was yet another thing which she thought she'd failed in. Failed him.
"I already told you, you're not going to die," Luna said firmly, tightening her hold. "You're going to keep Derrick's song safe for many years to come. And one day, you'll give it to someone else. Maybe your own children if you have them. The same way you'll give your song to someone else."
There was no belief in Adria's eyes as she gazed back at her.
Why would there be?
She knows the sensations of her own body. She knows your words don't match the truth in her bones.
Or in yours.
Luna wet her lips, wracking her brain for anything to say that could bring even a grain of comfort to the one she treasured most. "Besides, we're not the only ones entrusted with it."
"We're not?"
She shook her head. "Derrick had a sister. They were separated as children but. . . she knows the song. She'll keep it safe."
Luna didn't tell her that there was nothing to suggest his sister was still alive. Derrick had never heard from her again. Never been able to find her. Despite the years he'd searched.
But there was also nothing to confirm that she was forever lost.
And for now, Luna was willing to linger in that grey area if it meant bringing even a small amount of comfort to the child in her arms now.
Adria eased slightly. "Okay." She looked back up at Luna. "You don't sing it anymore. Not once. Not since. . ."
She swallowed. "Derrick always sang it better than me."
The truth.
His song sounded like a rotted carcass in her mouth, picked clean of everything substantial.
A skeleton.
Adria cuddled closer to her, resettling her cheek against her chest. "Derrick loved when you sang it. I could tell. He got that look. That gross look he used to always get with you." Luna's mouth twitched, even as her heart squeezed painfully. "I think he'd like it if you still sang it. Even if he can't."
(sing the song of the man whose heart she'd ran through with a knife?
Luna smiled bitterly.
Why not?
It wasn't as though it would be anything new. After all, where had her own song come from? The one she'd gifted to Adria. The tune that Luna had eventually spun into words.
All her songs belonged to the dead)
Luna hummed past the stone in her throat, its edges slicing into muscle as she carded her fingers through Adria's hair. "I think you're right."
Whatever her own feelings, her own guilt, she knew Derrick's heart. And knew that, in this, Adria had understood its wishes better than her.
"So sing it."
Luna's mouth curved. "Always so demanding."
Adria said nothing, just snuggled closer - impossibly close. But not close enough. Never close enough. "If I had words. . . to make a day for you. . ." She raised her chin, expectantly.
In that moment, the ship lurched with a violent wave and Adria gasped, clutching her stomach. Luna felt an answering pain grip her own but focused her attention on rubbing soothing circles into Adria's back. "I'd sing you a morning. . . golden and new. . ." She moved her hand, combing her fingers through Adria's hair, watching as she burrowed deeper into her chest. "Would make this day last. . . for all time. . ."
As Luna continued to sing low under her breath, she joined in the efforts of the sea, rocking Adria to sleep. She kept the song alive until her eyelids drifted shut, and the strangled nature of her breathing steadied out. She kept the song alive until her own strength failed her, darkness creeping in.
She had many more days to sing for Adria, many more nights to paint in moonshine, and this sickness would not take them from her.
They still had time.
Raven wasn't a stranger to being around sick people. Living with her mum, it had been a staple of existence. Either Mama Reyes was throwing up from drinking too much, or she was stricken with yet another viral illness because, funnily enough, consuming poison on a daily basis tended to kill the immune system. Inevitably, Raven would end up being the one to care for her.
Because someone had to.
(and it wasn't like any of the jerks who used her mum for a quick fuck were going to step in)
Raven hated it.
Hated looking after someone who was sick. The smell of vomit and other bodily fluids. The anxiety that built and built every time they went too still.
But there was one time Raven hadn't hated it.
About a year before the spacewalk debacle, Finn had come down with the flu. Hard. At one stage, it had gotten to the point that he could barely even stand - and not for any longer than a minute. He'd needed near constant care but his parents couldn't rise to the task - not if they didn't want to face any penalties for missing work. So Raven volunteered her services instead.
She fed him, cleaned him, crawled into bed with him and held him through the chills, murmuring soothing words as his body trembled and shook.
She used to hold her mum too. When she was sick. It was one of the few times Raven was allowed that kind of intimacy with her. As a kid, she'd almost looked forward to her falling ill for that very reason. But when she'd gotten older she'd realized the truth: that she was nothing more than a warm body, so easily exchanged for another. Only there was no other. Not when her mum was sick. Too sick to offer anything to anyone. Raven was all that was available. A convenient last resort.
It wasn't like that with Finn.
True, she may have been convenient and she was most definitely a last resort. But Raven knew that, even if he'd had the choice, he wouldn't exchange her for another. That he didn't just need her but want her.
He wanted her.
And that made all the difference.
She'd held Finn all through those weeks, caring for him, soothing him. Being anything and everything he needed.
They'd filled the silence with whispered conversation, unearthing secrets and stories they hadn't yet brought into the light.
She'd never felt so close to him. Not even during sex.
(never felt so close to anyone)
For the first time in her life, Raven hadn't minded cleaning up another person's vomit, comforting them through the nausea and aches. Feeding them. Washing them. It hadn't felt like a burden. Finn wasn't taking something from her, she was giving it.
Because she wanted to.
She wanted to be the one to give it.
It had felt right. The way, Raven imagined, caring for someone was supposed to feel.
That was the first time she'd said 'I love you'. To anyone. Wrapped around Finn, stroking his hair, she'd whispered it in his ear. And soared threw the ceiling when she'd heard it whispered back.
(he'd been waiting years to tell her, apparently. Waiting until she was ready. Ready to hear it.
He'd known in that moment she was)
Raven wondered now whether it had been a lie. Not the words but the meaning behind them. Finn had loved her. She would never doubt that. But had he ever loved her the way she loved him? Had their relationship been real at that point at least? At any point?
Before the ground.
Before Clarke.
(she'd never know)
"Adria."
The groan tore Raven from the past and she pressed her lips together, refocusing on the sleeping woman in front of her. The ache in her hip had escalated past the threshold she could bear over an hour ago and, reluctantly admitting defeat, Raven had pulled up a chair instead. It still left her close. Within range.
(still left her feeling like a failure)
Luna had reached for her as she'd abandoned the space by her head, her face crumbling when her hand met empty air. The expression had felt like a sucker punch to Raven's gut, the small distance between the chair and the bed seemingly endless, wider than any ocean.
She regretted getting up now. Giving in to the pain.
She knew better than to give in to it.
But her hip burned, fire searing her senses and she was afraid that if she gave in to impulse, got back on the bed, the building nausea in her gut would overflow.
The last thing Luna needed right now was Raven's puke all over her.
(and God only knew how she'd survive explaining that one to Murphy)
"Adri. . . Adria?"
Luna clutched her necklace, knuckles turning white with the effort. Raven feared she might break the chain and considered reaching out to loosen her hold but wasn't entirely confident of her chances. Even sick and unconscious, she suspected Luna could far outmatch her in strength.
(Raven may or may not have spent a full ten minutes once admiring the flex of her biceps as she'd slowly flowed through the motions of some Tai Chi-esque exercise.
All the while doing her best not to drool)
Raven also didn't have the heart to take away something Luna so desperately seemed to need.
"Adria, ai snogon. . ."
Raven frowned.
She didn't know what i snowgone meant but she'd lost count of just how many times Adria's name had fallen from Luna's lips - and the pain and desperation seemed to be building with each desperate exhalation.
For the last five or so hours, she'd watched as Luna went from peacefully quiet and still, to panicked and muttering - and back again. Rinse and repeat. Just when things would begin to settle, the fretful mutterings would emerge once more, with even greater fervency than before.
It was exhausting to witness. Had to be even more exhausting to endure.
At one point, she'd started thrashing. So violently that Raven was certain the blisters along her back must have torn open. Had winced, imagining what that was going to feel like in the morning.
'Nowe don gada in. . .'
'Nowe. . . natblida. . .'
'Nowe. . . natblida. . . don gada in. . .'
The murmurings had repeated over and over again, gradually blending together into even greater gibberish.
It had taken Raven's hand on her head, gentle fingers combing through her hair, for Luna to settle even a little bit.
Still, her grip on the necklace hadn't let up at all and Raven could see the damage it had already done to her skin. Lines of inflamed flesh, circling again and again - and one spot where the chain had actually dug in deep enough to draw blood.
Damage that was likely to increase, now that she'd returned to a state of distress.
(thank fuck the IV line had been detached shortly after Luna first fell asleep because that could have gotten grisly real fast)
"Ai swega yu klin. Ai. . . swega yu klin."
She knew it was only a matter of time until Luna went quiet again but the wait was getting to be torturous. Raven could handle the sleep-talking. What she couldn't handle was the obvious torment behind every word.
Raven frowned, adjusting the blankets around Luna for the hundredth time. Knew it was a losing battle when she twisted again, dislodging her efforts.
"Adria. . ."
Raven knew what she really needed from her. And it wasn't a fucking blanket.
(it also wasn't something that she was strong enough to give)
"Shh," she laid the back of her fingertips against Luna's forehead, exhaling as she stilled. The touch seemed to soothe her, at least a little bit.
It was all the touch Raven could give.
She stroked Luna's skin, relieved at least that it didn't burn quite so hot as before. That was one small comfort.
Her face contorted. "Beja."
Raven winced as she noticed the increasing redness on Luna's neck, where the chain cut into her skin. Fresh beads of blood were starting to form - no doubt caused by her violent twisting, leading the metal to grate against flesh. "Okay, yep. Gonna have to let that go."
She reached forward, awkwardly grasping her hand. Luna thrashed away - and Raven narrowly avoided getting an elbow to the eye.
"Not cool."
Taking a breath, she tried again, fingers fumbling as they attempted to find their way under Luna's firm grip-
and receiving a smack to the face for her efforts.
Fucking hell.
Rubbing her cheek, Raven glared at the offending hand, wondering whether it wouldn't be best to offer up Murphy for this task instead. The image of him getting walloped in the face would at least be entertaining.
"Em laik fousen gougeda, you."
Giving up, she reached around Luna's neck and undid the clasp, breathing a sigh of relief as the chain fell lax. Luna clutched the pendant to her chest, turning away from her. "Jok of."
Raven huffed. "You're welcome."
That better have been Trigedasleng for 'thankyou.'
Silence was her only response - which, given everything, wasn't actually that bad a result. She could do with a little silence.
Serenity.
Peaceful slumber.
Noting the building perspiration on Luna's skin, Raven reached beside her for the washcloth she'd abandoned several minutes ago, dipping it into the bowl of water. Gently, Raven ran it over her forehead, clearing away the accumulating sweat.
Luna exhaled, leaning into the contact. "Derrick. . ."
Something twisted in Raven's chest. An old knife that she'd thought she'd ripped out after her mother died. Only to find it again on the ground, a metal deer cradled in her hand. . . watching the boy she loved run to someone else. Someone who wasn't her.
'You didn't hesitate.'
Pursing her lips, Raven focused on the feeling of the cloth in her hand, the lukewarm water which had long since chilled. The goosebumps coating her damp skin, invigorated by the room's icy air.
Focused on the contentment lining Luna's face - and not the reason for it. A reason that wasn't her.
Taking a breath, Raven took the cloth away and wet it again, watching a crinkle form in Luna's brow before she returned it to her skin. "Strisora."
Great, now she was being mistaken for some person called Streesora. Whoever the hell that was.
Better than being mistaken for Lexa.
"Yeah, sorry. Not Streesora - happy to fill in, though."
The illusion seemed to give her some degree of comfort so Raven was happy to let it stand, gently moving the cloth further along Luna's skin.
In the beginning it hadn't been of much help.
The moment she'd set the cool cloth to Luna's forehead, she'd started thrashing, hands flailing. Taking the hint, Raven had hastily retreated.
A particularly violent nightmare seemed to have set in afterwards and she suspected that physical contact of any sort had not been welcome. At least at that point in time. A suspicion that was backed up by the fact that Luna proceeded to flinch away from every touch Raven extended during the following hour. An, admittedly, disconcerting development given her trademark tactility. Eventually, though, Raven's touch had become welcome again.
Become a comfort again.
There'd been a few more failed attempts with the washcloth since then but after Luna had begun whimpering Adria's name, the resistance had ceased.
Clearly, the theme of her nightmares had changed.
Now she actually seemed to find the contact soothing - which had been Raven's original hope.
Still, she couldn't help but notice that if she wandered too close to Luna's nose or mouth, that soothing quality would evaporate in a flash. Which made sense, Raven supposed. Her hands still stunk to high heaven of Emori's smelly goo, no matter how vigorously she'd tried to scrub it away. She'd be flipping out if they came anywhere near that part of her face too.
Blood smeared Luna's throat like spilt ink. With enough mental gymnastics, Raven could almost convince herself it was ink.
Almost.
Swallowing, she wet the cloth again, moving it down to Luna's neck - and washing away the darkness.
Another whimper parted her lips. "Nyko. No. . ."
A tear leaked out the corner of Luna's eye, rolling down her cheek.
And that was all she could take.
"Screw it." Huffing, Raven tossed the washcloth aside and jerked to her feet. Fucking screw it. Marching towards the door, she slammed her fist against it without regard for her cellmate's rest. At this point, she knew no noise - loud or otherwise - was likely to drag Luna back from the land of nod.
"Murphy! Get the fuck in here!"
Still, a part of Raven hoped to hear a gasp behind her, to turn around and find Luna miraculously returned to consciousness. That would certainly solve at least one of her problems.
(this didn't eventuate)
The door opened. "What-"
Raven grabbed his shirt. "I need you."
Murphy blinked as she yanked him inside. "Not how I ever imagined this going down but okay. We'll have to talk to Emori first but-"
"Shut up and get on the bed."
He paused. "You realize I wasn't serious, right?"
"I wouldn't have paid any attention if you were."
Because that would require at least two hours of scrubbing her brain with bleach.
Raven glared, placing her hands on her hips. "Luna needs someone to hold her."
Murphy stared.
"You're someone."
"It'll fuck up my hip." Very true. Though not something she'd usually let stop her from doing anything. The only reason she'd gotten up from the bed was to save Luna from a tidal wave of puke.
From the look on Murphy's face, he was in no way ignorant of this. Well, not the first part anyway. "No."
Raven sighed, losing some of her gusto. She wasn't above begging. Not in this instance. "Murphy, Luna needs this."
He glanced at the woman on the bed, grimacing as she clutched at her pillow, a faint moan parting her lips. "Fine." He held up a hand, "but we never speak of this again. I can't have anyone think I just go around cuddling people in my spare time."
Raven rolled her eyes, turning away. "Couldn't have that."
Awkwardly, Murphy approached the bed - not unlike one might approach a thrashing piranha. Raven wondered if Luna had a propensity to bite. Hoped so.
"You sure about this?"
Not at all.
"Yep."
What other option did they have?
(except the one she refused to take)
Raven was at the end of her rope. She couldn't survive another hour of watching Luna suffer in her sleep - let alone the rest of the night. And she couldn't be the one to ease that suffering.
She just couldn't.
"Well, this isn't creepy at all," Murphy muttered, climbing onto the bed behind Luna. "Kind of feel like I should be asking permission or something."
"Good luck with that. If we could wake her up, we wouldn't be in this situation in the first place. Stupid pills."
Raven had spoken to Abby. Apparently, she'd given Luna a new and improved version of the pills she'd once given Raven. Becca had cooked them up during her time here on the island - and of course they'd be one of the few things that hadn't expired after a century. Side effects included, among outrageously vivid dreams, being basically unwakable for ten freaking hours.
The doctor might have told them that before handing the pills over in the first place.
According to Abby, the medication had the highest success rate in terms of helping the body heal during NREM sleep. At least, according to Becca's papers.
(Raven wasn't entirely sure she trusted anything that woman had invented.
Ever)
And that was all well and good but NREM was when night terrors occurred and even the brief lapses into REM sleep couldn't offer any relief, since that was a breeding ground for dreams or, as the case seemed to be, nightmares.
Abby had explained all this rather matter-of-factly, with the justification that Luna would feel better for the extra sleep in the aftermath and that it was unlikely she'd be able to recall much, if any, of her dreams.
That was somewhat comforting but didn't do a hell of a lot for them in the meantime. At present, Luna was suffering. And Raven had to watch her suffer.
Abby, on the other hand, did not.
When she returned her attention to Murphy, he was still looking pretty discomforted by the task before him.
Raven sighed, dropping her hands from her hips.
"Trust me, she's not going to care. It's Luna." Besides, she hadn't asked Raven's permission before swooping in to hold her that day she had a meltdown. Circumstances hadn't permitted it. She was pretty sure being trapped in a bunch of hellish nightmares qualified as the same.
It seemed hugs were what passed for emergency care these days.
Releasing a sigh, Murphy reluctantly allowed the rest of his weight to sink onto the bed. And laid there. Stiff as a board. An ocean between him and the very edge of Luna's form.
"You've kind of actually gotta put your arm around her for this to work."
Sending her a mutinous look, he did exactly that. "If she murders me for this, I'm haunting your ass til the end of time."
"Or until Praimfaya hits." Which could be any week now. So Raven wasn't overly concerned.
Murphy glared.
She rolled her eyes. "I think you're safe. She has a no killing rule, remember? Kind of her whole thing."
"And rules were made to be broken."
"For you, maybe."
"We'll see. I've been told I inspire a strong urge to get stabby."
Raven bit her tongue on a laugh - she could not give Murphy the satisfaction of knowing he amused her. "That might just be the truest thing you've ever said. . . you know what, you're right. You're a dead man."
"Watch it. Or I'll tell Luna you've spent the last week imagining her naked."
Raven's jaw dropped. "I have not been imagining her naked."
"Sure."
Eyes narrowing, she all of a sudden realized a glaring flaw in her brilliant plan. As long as Murphy was holding Luna - and basically using her as a human shield - she couldn't throw her boot at his smug, ugly face. Or anything else, for that matter.
And from the smirk now spoiling that face, Murphy knew it too.
Yeah. She hadn't thought this through.
Luna felt him settle on the bed, an arm coming to wrap around her from behind, drawing her close. She sighed, muscles giving in to the familiar pressure, allowing herself to relax for the first time all day.
Nights spent out in the open were cold and, in the beginning, they'd huddled together purely for the sake of warmth.
Neither of them pretended that was the reason anymore.
"You're tense," Derrick noted, thumb grazing the surface of her stomach, tracing the path of a circle.
Luna's gut knotted at the sensation, at what she knew she could no longer ignore. "I've had a lot on my mind."
"That much is obvious. You've had a lot on your mind since Lincoln left."
So he'd noticed. She wondered just how much he'd noticed.
How long had it been? Five? Six months? Lincoln's departure seemed so long ago now, distant and faded.
She refused to miss him.
There was no point in missing someone you'd always known was going to leave.
(if that was true, you wouldn't miss Sol)
Luna toyed with the hand on her waist, feeling the strength of each finger, the roughness of callouses. He had more scars than her. Not surprising. Her skin had always been more valuable than his. More valuable than most people's.
(not always.
Her Conclave had made her skin the least valuable in existence. Marked for death)
She traced the length of one scar that ran across the pad of his thumb, thinking of the knife that had birthed it, long before they'd ever met. She travelled over the rest of his fingers, his knuckles, the lines of his palm. . .
Her hand was tiny in Derrick's, seemingly fragile, but she knew it could wield a blade better than his ever could.
She was not fragile.
But, God, she felt it in this moment.
Luna closed her eyes. She wanted to melt further into Derrick's embrace, disappear into his arms. But she couldn't. She'd done so too many nights already.
She couldn't afford to hide any longer.
Only cowards hid. And she'd been trying so hard not to be a coward ever since thrusting that knife into her brother's chest. The most cowardice act of her life.
She was trying not to be a coward.
Luna opened her eyes. "There's something I have to tell you."
Something she had not yet admitted to herself. Could not admit.
But had to.
Denial could only get her so far. Had only ever been able to get her so far.
She shut her eyes again, as if that would block out the truth.
Derrick's fingers caught hers, coaxing them to still. "I know. I've been waiting."
Luna's breath caught, eyes flying open. "You know what I'm going to say?"
"Yes. But I was waiting for you to be ready to say it."
She swallowed, adjusting to this revelation. Not sure if it made things easier or harder. "I'm still not ready."
"I know that too." His arm tightened around her and Luna wondered when she had become so easy to read. When she had let her training slip.
Was it before or after he'd pulled her from the sea?
Perhaps the moment she'd stumbled back from her brother's body, floating in the water? When she had slipped. Smacked her head against a rock and for a moment the horror had ceased. A foggy darkness finding her, leaving the world in dizzying disarray. A darkness that had never truly left.
She'd clambered to her feet, slipping a few more times into the blackened river - and ran.
Luna knew that was the moment she'd ceased to be a novitiate. Ceased to be anything.
All her training, all her knowledge and rationality, had fled.
Years later and she was still trying to claw it back, piece by piece.
Do you even want it back?
What good had her training ever done her? Except keep her alive. And was there any good in that?
She'd ask Sol, the one who knew her soul best, but she had stolen his ability to answer.
Derrick's fingers resumed their familiar strokes against her skin. She tried not to shrink away from the touch, which months ago would only have been comforting.
Luna swallowed. "Am I that easy to read?"
He chuckled against her neck. "You are the hardest person in the world to read. But you're written in a language that I've come to understand." The circles became lines became spirals, curving across her skin. The rhythm was soothing - but she refused to let herself relax. Not yet. Not when she could recognize the pattern he'd so ruthlessly drawn. "And this isn't something you could hide."
"Derrick. . ."
His hand caught hers again, held it tight. "You don't have to talk about it now. Soon but not now. Just know that I know. And when you can talk about it, I will listen."
He always listened.
Luna closed her eyes and gripped his hand. The relief was shameful but she basked in it.
A low humming filled the room and she could feel the vibrations at her back, in her hair. The deep familiar tune washing over her. She waited for the words to come, for they always did - waited for the calm that never ceased to follow.
Closing her eyes, Luna remembered the first time he'd sung this song to her. How it had flowed through the cracks in her defences, cracks she hadn't realized were there - had prayed were not. How it had slowly eased the harsh thump of her heart, breaking apart the hard walls of its shell and tempting it to open once more.
Eventually, it had coaxed her to sleep.
The first peaceful sleep she'd had since the night she'd slept by the tri-wilou's fire.
It had that same magic now and Luna sighed, giving in to the pull.
'Give you a night deep in moonshine. . .'
In the morning, Luna promised herself. In the morning, she would talk. In the morning she would face this.
(in the morning, she would go back to pretending she was no longer a coward)
But for now, Luna would allow herself to be held. It was the only comfort in the world that remained to her.
(whether she deserved it or not)
A/N: the song mentioned in this chapter is: If I Had Words by Scott Fitzgerald & Yvonne Keeley. I imagine it as a much more slowed down version as it's become a bit warped being sung through the decades, from person to person, without the original recording of the song on hand to listen to. You'll find people singing two different lyrics versions when you search this song on youtube. The original had 'golden and new' and 'give you a night deep in moonshine' but newer versions sometimes have 'golden and true' and 'fill the night deep in moonshine'
Translations:
Stikswita = fruit [mine] from sticky sweet
Adria, ai snogon = Adria, my love
Nowe don gada in = never had
natblida = nightblood/a nightblood
ai swega yu klin = I promise
Beja = please
Jok of = fuck off
Em laik fousen gougeda, you = she's persistent, I'll give her that (Luna says this about Clarke in episode 15 and she's dreaming of her and the Flame in that moment)
the flashback between Derrick and Luna is set over a year before she formed Floukru
Next chapter is more humorous, I promise. There's more Murphy and he makes everything humorous. It might take a while to come out though because I just got a puppy this week and she's taking up all my energy and concentration
