--- o For the Spooktober Prompt #20: Memory 0 ---

   It wasn’t anything in particular that stirred her awake, perhaps the sudden desire not to sleep. It was strange, she didn’t feel any hint of lethargy or nausea she was so used to, perhaps the medicine Elly gave her worked better than intended. She was always talented, and Myrr oft sat in the apothecary with her, watching her work day in and day out. Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t see some of the scars she remembered Elly got when she let her curiosity get the better of her and she tried to pick up one of the elixirs Elly was brewing, resulting in a small cut on her own hand, and a burn on Elly’s forearm that never quite healed. It was made all the more strange by noticing other scars she did not remember, one obviously being a significant scar across her face, or maybe she just hid it with makeup? Not likely, Elly hated the stuff, so why didn’t she remember it?

   Myrr sat up to get a better view of Elly who sat in the corner of the room on the only good chair and table she could find. Now tinkering with her arm, clothes strewn across the ground and thrown over makeshift lines to dry. Most of the things she pulled out of it were alien to her, various tools and miscellaneous items collected over time. Then she saw it, her prosthetic. There was no doubt about it. It was her, after all.

   There was blood. Lots of it. Caked into the joints and mechanism along with debris collected throughout her travels, a hindrance to her movements, and one she carefully cleaned with precise attention. It looked painful, yet it subsided for a somewhat more relaxed expression, with a swift prick into the woman’s shoulder where the fixings of the prosthetic was built into her skin beneath the metal plate she usually wore. It wasn’t the first, and she could see many red dots dutifully hidden under her clothes.

   At first, Myrr thought it was her blood, though a quick glance over to the fire, where the flayed pelt of a rabbit hung over a makeshift rack, a pot of stew already bubbling in a cauldron. A flash of something crossed her, probably remembering the times Elly tried her hand at cooking, it always ended in disaster. One of her favourite memories was when Elly tried her hand at making an omelette and almost burned down the whole kitchen, Lyon scolded her for hours.

   ❛ Mom? ❜ Myrr called out weakly, able to speak a little clearly with the medicine Elly gave her earlier, though it was still painful to talk.

   ❝ Hm? ❞ Elly glanced up at her, a glassy haze over her eyes. When she noticed the girl was awake, she covered something beside her with a stray shirt, though Myrr caught a brief glance at it. A needle?

   ❝ What’s wrong? Can’t sleep? ❞

   Myrr shook her head in response, her gaze fixated on Elly’s arm, it looked different to the one she was familiar with, in disrepair, and clearly made and used for fighting, not that she knew that. The more she observed, the more injuries she noticed, Elly had clearly been in a great deal of pain.

   ❛ Where is your arm? ❜ She asked, as a child’s curiosity would compel her, even when she already knew the answer that was written across her face.

   ❝ It fell off~ ❞ Elly replied with the faintest hint of a smile, the flatness in her voice wasn’t so prominent now, though it still lacked the warmth Myrr so desperately needed.

   ❛ Does it hurt? ❜ Myrr moved closer to get a better view. She wasn’t allowed in the workshop, so she didn’t get to see much of the process unless it was when Elly tinkered with it in the Guild hall.

   ❝ A little— ❞ Elly replied curtly, only because she pulled something too tight. ❝ Not all the time. ❞

   ❝ Are you feeling better? ❞ Elly asked, turning her attention to Myrr, who nodded in response.

   ❝ Good. Morning is still a ways off, you should get some rest. ❞

   Elly smiled, setting her tools down and wiping off the remaining blood and oil before packing them away. Rising from her chair, she walked over to Myrr and ruffled her hair, something that put a smile on her face. Though Elly’s turned to stone as her ears perked up. They weren’t alone.

   Elly spoke under her breath. ❝ Fuck. ❞

--- o ---