--- o For the Spooktober Prompt #12: Fear 0 ---

   You never know what you take for granted until it’s gone. Elly knows this well. Her whole life was a constant reminder that she could lose everything, and she had. But it’s the little things, like being able to sleep, though she could never rest easily, she literally cannot sleep even if she wanted to. But the worst of it? She could no longer taste food, though her other senses were far sharper than most. Especially her ability to feel pain. A constant thing that reminds her that she is, despite everything, alive, regardless of whether she wants to be or not. She was good at taking lives, very good, but her life was the one exception. She made no attempt to hide her want, her need to die. It was really the only thing that kept her going at this point, but she was running out of ideas. Nothing worked.

   By now she had been wandering from place to place, hunting Cultists with what little leads she had left. She couldn’t remember how long it had been, two, maybe three years had passed, yet for her it was decades. It had been so long since she had any meaningful connections with others, and swore blindly she would never make such mistakes ever again. They were a weakness, a promise, that would only hurt her down the line.

   She wasn’t fearless, and rarely ever showed any signs of it, but like with everything, it was internalised and suppressed. She had no reason to be afraid, but how? Why did she feel like this for a child she did not know? It was almost funny. Someone who had always struggled with things like emotions, and rarely ever felt or expressed them, yearned, grieved, so deeply for those few she formed bonds with. No matter how much time shall pass, no matter how much she lies to herself, those wounds will never heal, nor will she ever forget that it was her that inflicted them.

   What time was it? Had she the energy to get up and check, she wouldn’t be able to gauge the time by the moons anyway, but it was past midnight, that much she knew. She sighed, resting her face in her palms for what seemed like a moment, yet by the time she raised her head, the fire was almost out. Thankfully she had prepared ample wood, abandoned villages were always wanting for stuff to burn, though most of this one was already ash and soot.

   She was still asleep. Good. It felt awkward enough that this strange kid calls her mother. Though she never actually said it. Her? Elly? It was absurd to think about. She never considered, nor wanted a child, yet this stranger enticed an odd mix of nostalgia and yearning she had not felt for years. And that amulet, the very same one she had, kept her mind reeling as she tried to parse out what the hell was going on. They weren’t just identical. They were the same.

   She tried to not think about it too much, as the more she did she felt other emotions surface, one’s that she spent every moment keeping in check. Anger. But why? What had this child done? Maybe it was the knowledge of her being responsible for another life, when she was so dedicated to throwing her own one away every chance she got. The most important thing, she thought to herself, was finding a place for this child, somewhere suited to raising her and not a vagabond like her, she’d only put her in danger.

   With what little supplies she had left laid out before her, varying from typical survival tools, scant rations and other miscellaneous items, but most of all, a medical kit. One she always made sure to keep well stocked, but it had seen better days, and she already used some of them to patch up Myrr earlier. She only learned her name from the brief times the girl did speak, something else that made her mind wander.

   They managed to find somewhat adequate provisions for a meal between them, now sat by a warm fire beneath the shelter of a building yet to crumble beneath its own weight. She let Myrr rest, keeping close vigil over her as she didn’t expect to sleep yet, she was tired, but not that kind of tired. Besides, the pains all over her body were coming to collect their dues, and there was no better time than now to stymie them and use what little supplies she had to tend to her wounds. She didn’t use them, rather opting for whatever else she had laying around as the thought of needing them for later, for her, crossed her mind.

   ❛ Fuck. ❜ She almost cried out, but bit down on her sleeve. It was a pain in the ass tending to her broken prosthetic without adequate supplies, and with how damaged it had been from the days prior, it was becoming almost impossible to move. Not to mention the biting cold and her exposed nerves only made the pain all the more raw.

   Had she a taste for it, Elly may have drunk the bottle dry, but for now she disinfected her wounds with the small supply of spirits she got her hands on. A stupid idea and something that can do more damage than good, but that mattered little to her now. They were mostly small cuts anyway, and her body was attuned to heal quickly. But it wasn’t the superficial wounds that knawed at her now, no, it was something more. A craving for a vice she couldn’t shake off, and frankly depended on at this point. Just a little won’t hurt, just to numb the pain.

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