Warrior's Watch

Participants:

lucille4_icon.gif

Scene Title Warrior's Watch
Synopsis Lucille observes for a fallen friend.
Date January 30, 2019

Mountains


Orange sunlight peeks through the heavy clouds, morning birds and mice awakening as the dew collects, sitting on the deep green tall grass. A chill wind wraps through the hilltop swaying the grass and a long tree, long dead with twisted blackened branches that creak while tiny twigs snap off and fly off with the air.

There are only a couple things stationary on the windy hill.

A motorcycle, black and sleek propped up the engine long since turned off. A helmet hangs on one of the handles. A bag of supplies nestled in the seat of the bike, the food packed hadn't been touched yet. The original thought wasn't to fast but upon reaching the top and facing that view that was all Lucille was capable of doing. Sitting unmoving save for all of her auburn hair that hangs past her shoulders, it flies in the wind catching in her mouth and sometimes in her closed eyes.

Still the woman holds still.

Crosslegged with both hands draped over her knees easily, her movements as she had stalked to this spot from where she had parked her bike were fluid. Her mind was in chaos.

In front of her firmly shoved into the earth is a blade of shining silver, a yellow ribbon tied around the hilt. The color reminded her of Devon's hair. Two blue shards of stained glass sit resting against the blade, dug into the ground slightly so they wouldn't fall over. In Lucille's lap sits a dagger, curved and obsidian. A sharpening rock lays a few inches from her hip having rolled after being set down.

She had been there since the evening, just before midnight. Her vigil began soon after.

Dealing with grief had never been Lucille's strong point. Her nature was to run away, try to bury herself in whatever she could to avoid the pressing things, the hard things. Devon's face was everywhere though, the sparring room. The roof. She had taken to crashing at motels and inns surrounding Rochester until finally she just broke and drove off.

Winding up the roads and trails along the mountains until she came to a suitable a suitable spot. Somewhere she could leave her guilt because all it would do was slow her down, she needed to be light.

Slowly her head bows, neck stiff from immobility. Tears fall from clasped shut eyelashes seeping through to fall onto the gray material of her clothing. Liquidation. It felt like a metaphor as well as a physical explanation to Hercules. Noa was leaving, Hana was off. Colette was doing.. whatever the fuck she needed to be happy. Berlin…

Pale fingers curl around the tilt of that dagger resting in her lap. Thoughts returning to Devon, Kid Brother. Mourning in the group was heavy, she needed to be light. Facing Francois felt like facing a father she had disappointed. Lucille couldn't find him, no matter how hard she pushed. Pulled at with her ability. He was gone.

Slowly the blade is lifted and Lucille's head along with it, watery gray blue eyes revealed as they crack open slowly not used to the light of the dawn shining down on her and that little hillside. The cold feel of metal brings sensation to Lucille's neck and she lets out a soft breath of air before she deeply inhaled again. Repeating the process as her other fingers go to pull at her auburn strands.

Lu had let it grow long enough she needed to be light.

The tension wasn't there for long the knife cutting through her hair almost as smooth that it would be it going through water. By the end of her sawing half of her hair off. The bundle held open in her hand as the wind picks up and takes the pieces, floating them off into the air. Lucille soon follows suit herself thrusting herself forward to toss the last of her hair out of her hands.

A long dark strand persists on her thumb but the woman just watches as her hair blows wildly into the sky.

She felt lighter even if a tiny bit so. There was work to do, she could carry it now. Lucille made a promise, to herself, Devon and her mother Mary. Silently she stands to her feet the wind ruffling the ragged ends of her now ear length bob. Raquelle was going to kill her.

But she felt lighter.


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