Lilacs in the Wasteland (A Narrative)

She was crying as she lay down on the ground, her hand rubbing along the weather beaten stone that marked where her mother was buried. The etched words were dull with wear; the only lettering she could make out was Mama…

She curled up in a ball as she spoke, fingers absently tracing the lettering while relayed to her mother the events of the past few months. She told her about Xaviar, how he basically saved her life and how she saved his. How she would be proud of him. And how she understood why she never told her about the family on Persephone.

“I don’t know what to do, Mama. Im so confused as to where I should go. I love Immi with my heart and soul. Would kill and die for her as a sister should. But I don’t want to break her heart like this. I don’t want to follow my heart because it may break another’s that I care so much.”

She closed her eyes and thought about the subject of her desires and recent dreams. How his eyes were dark with sadness, yet he smiled at her antics. How Duncan called her Red... and crazy. And how she promised she would never harm him; to never fear her needles. She was fascinated by his mustache, how it moved when he talked and smiled and she knew when he wasn’t really smiling because it never moved the same when he was genuinely happy.

When she woke up from the last dream, she ran. Took Nightingale and ran to the Wastes. She didn’t have anyone to talk to. No one she wanted to burden with her woes. So she went to the one person she knew would listen. Even if they couldn’t talk back. Her mother.

She laid there now. Cheek pressed to the ground right where her mother’s heart would have been. She kept her eyes closed, sighing and wondering what to do next.

“What kind of sister and friend am I to have feelings for a man my best friend is in love with?” It hit her like a gunshot, the realization of the amazing hurt Immi must have been through when she started dating Td. And she felt even more horrible.

She cried again. Weeping into the soil and making mud with the tears and dirt. It caked along her cheek as she mourned. Mourned for everything that was lost in the passing months.

She faintly remembered her mother. She was young when she passed. She remembered how she looked. But most of all she remembered how she smelled. Like spring and lilacs. So it startled Belize when she caught the scent. Faint… yet there. The scent of lilacs. Something that never grew in the barrens of the Wastelands. She smiled and had her answer, rubbing the rock before leaning in to kiss it.

“Thank you, Mama.” She whispered before getting up and walking to her ship. It was time to put her plan in action.

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