Slowly

Ficlet in the Sands of Time Series
by scribblemoose

They'd all said it would take time. Years.

She'd heard them, when they thought she wasn't listening.

In the shop, she'd heard them.

Or never. Sometimes they said never.

It's a terrible blow. She'll never get over it.

Terrible.

And after her mother, too.

Never.

She's so young.

Get over it.

No.

What did they mean, never?

The hurting was easier, in the beginning. In the beginning there were other people to consider. She had to be brave for her father. She had to keep her chin up. She had to show the world how strong she was. There were things to do, plans to make, decisions to explain.

It was later that it got hard. Maybe a week, or a month - she couldn't remember exactly how long - but some time later, when the fuss had died down. And it didn't happen all at once, it didn't slap her round the face like a blizzaga spell. It crept up on her, enfolded her like an evil blanket, almost comforting, warm at first, the melancholy.

You can be sad. You have a right. It's expected. Go on, be sad.

And then, she couldn't stop.

She lay awake at night, and longed for his arms around her. She wanted his strength, his comfort, his love, more than anything.

Auburn hair and violet eyes. The surge of lust and power. Comfort.

She couldn't stop.

She watched herself do what needed to be done: training, studying, eating, sleeping, laughing, talking. She felt nothing, for fear that if she really let herself feel, she'd go to a place so dark she might never find her way back.

And then one day she came here, and she let herself feel. It hurt so much she thought it would never stop. She needed to hurt. She wanted to hurt.

"You miss him."

Sanke put her arms around Frila's neck, her cheek warm against Frila's tear-damp face.

"Yes."

She snuggled into Frila's neck. "I can tell. You always come here when it gets too much."

"He loved you, you know. More than anything."

"Like you love me?"

"More. More even than that."

"And he loved you, too?"

"I don't know. It's hard to say."

"It gets better. Slowly. It gets better."

Frila looked out over the ocean, knowing it would make her ache inside.

She missed her mother, in a way. She still missed Sen. She often missed Irvine.

But she missed Oceanus most of all.