✧ a hundred stories to tell // one-shot challenge

[Ranger of the North]

Aw, thanks bro! These are a pleasure to read c:

[blackbird.]

"ｉｔ ａｌｌ ｅｎｄｓ， ｔｏｄａｙ"
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cont'd from #31 // characters: demetria clarke, rohan ching // words: 1074


She is in her kitchen when she hears the news, the voice of a faceless woman crackling over the old radio. "...armistice had been reached..." She perks up at the words. "...peace treaty signing..." She halts her movements. "The war...over..." She holds her breath. "It all ends, today."

The knife clatters as it hits the metal of the sink, and her hands fly to her lips to stifle a gasp.

Why?

Why does her heart shake, and her breath tremble? Why do tears begin to form at the back of her eyes?

It isn't a surprise. She heard about many battles won over the radio, a few too many to be the usual propaganda. She heard the ladies talking in the market, about enemy troops pulling out of some of their territory.

She expected this day, dreamed about this moment, imagined this very scenario.

And yet...she doesn't know how to feel.

//

There are noises coming from the window - cheering and laughing and honking of cars. The city celebrates. The country celebrates. The world celebrates.

And suddenly Demetria knows exactly how she feels.

She swallows thickly, feels the blood rush to her head and sees red wisps in the corners of her vision. She wants - as desperately as a drowning man yearns for air - to scream...to cry...to hurt.

The war may be over, but hers has only just begun.

Because Daniel...Daniel is dead.

//

How dare they? How dare they laugh and drink and cheer when her brother - her entire world - is gone?

And why...why is she the only one who has to mourn?

She almost wants to start a war herself, wants to wield a gun and shoot and kill and watch as everyone mourns. Only then will they know...what it's like to feel the things she feels.

So what if the war is over? So what if a bunch of idiot boys stop shooting at each other? So what if the country is saved from an economic collapse? The world could burn to ashes and she wouldn't even bat an eye; the universe could implode and she wouldn't shed a tear; the entirety of humanity could rot and she wouldn't care less.

She wonders if all the suffering in the world would be enough to atone for his death.

//

"Demetria?"

She glares daggers at the door, profanities she was taught never to utter running through her mind. She has no doubt it's someone with a bright smile, and they'll ask her with a sugar-sweet voice whether she heard the news and oh demetria, isn't it absolutely wonderful? and they'll take her hand and invite her to celebrate because come on, darling demetria, it'll be such fun! and they'll laugh and dance and imagine, demetria, of going back to the life we had before!

Her blood begins to boil. She doesn't care who's outside knocking at her door, because all she cares about is the unsatiable desire to yell, and scream, and hurl the unladylike insults at anyone who dared to tell her to be happy, to smile, to celebrate. Celebrate? She'd celebrate when she gave them a piece of her mind. Who did they think they were? To knock on her door? To smile in her face after everything that happened? She'd show them...oh the things she could say to them to make them hurt, and cry, and feel the agony inside her heart.

Oh, she'd show them alright.

She throws open the door, takes a deep breath-

-and she freezes.

"Good morning, Demetria! Did you hear the news?" Rohan pats the label of a wine bottle, grinning so wide she can't even see his eyes. "I've been saving this baby for a special occasion. Whaddya say, wanna drink?"

God was really testing her, wasn't he?
(If there even is a God, she thinks.)

Because if it were any other person - literally anyone else in the whole entire world - she could be rude and mean and a downright bully and she wouldn't even feel the slightest bit of guilt.

But him...Rohan...he's the exception.

Rohan - whose parents died in a bombing raid - whose brothers lie dead in a cold, dirty trench - whose left leg is rotting on some unknown, godforsaken battlefield.

Rohan - whose sobs seeped through the thin walls and echoed in her hollow heart - whose apartment reeked of alcohol for months on end - whose world had fractured far more deeply and brutally than she could ever even imagine.

Rohan...whose smile was so bright she could hardly even recognise him.

Then it hits her: Time has moved on. He has moved on.

So why couldn't she?

"Demetria?"

She doesn't answer, doesn't even meet his gaze - she can't. Selfish...foolish...ashamed... She would have closed the door on his face if she could bear to.

Maybe her silence will give him a hint, and he'll leave her be. Or maybe it'll be the reason he needs to come in and comfort her. She doesn't know which one she prefers. Is there a third option? An option where everything is fine, where his body - his family - is whole and her brother is alive and by her side? An option where the world isn't torn asunder by the war?

"Hey...it's okay."

Like hell it's okay. Her grip on the door tightens, and she snaps her head up to say that no, it isn't okay, because her brother is dead and how can she ever dream of being happy again-

...but she falters. Because she recognises that look in his eyes - the same one she sees in the mirror.

And she begins to cry.

He catches her as she crumples to the ground. They are both leaning on his bulky metal crutch, and it's uncomfortable. But she doesn't care. Because he's warm, and strong; and best of all, he understands.

"Hey...it's okay." There's sadness in his voice, but she feels him smiling anyway.

It's okay? Like hell it's okay. Her life has gone to ruin, how is it okay?

"It's okay..." He holds her tighter.

But when it's him saying those normally cheap, empty words...she thinks that he may just be right.

She's still furious - (dark, murderous thoughts intruding into her mind) - and still grieving - (sometimes she sets the table for two and bursts into tears whenever she realises that it's one too many) - and still hurting - (it may take dozens of years for her to heal, if she ever heals at all). But it's okay.

She breathes...

...and it's okay.

[ note: it's okay not to be okay
note 2: i hacked up my left lung while forcing myself to write something; at least i broke my writing block!

[Alpha*]

(Wow. I ... I have no words. This touched me. Reached me. Thank you. )

[blackbird.]

(Wow. I ... I have no words. This touched me. Reached me. Thank you. )

omg Alpha!! you're still here and you're still reading my work!
i thought everyone disappeared already hehe
thank you so much for your kind words and your support <3 <3 <3

[Alpha*]

(Of course I'm still here! I'm not going anywhere- or if I do it's not forever)

[Ranger of the North]

That was lovely - honestly lovely. I don't know if I've ever told you this, but I've always really admired your work c:

[blackbird.]

(Of course I'm still here! I'm not going anywhere- or if I do it's not forever)

oohh yayy!

That was lovely - honestly lovely. I don't know if I've ever told you this, but I've always really admired your work c:

ah thank you so much ranger!! c: your writing is also really beautiful and i love it a lot~