[In the privacy of her bathroom, the steam of her shower helping to fog up the mirror- and any cameras her paranoia whispers might actually be there- Luce takes out a certain ring.]
[Dangerous, she knows, to keep it around her neck on a thin chain of silver hidden beneath her clothes, but it's even moreso to hide it in her room where the searching hands and sharp eyes of housekeeping could find it. It's so hard to know who to trust here outside her band, yet somehow.... That feels familiar.]
[She thinks of the vision where there was blood at her feet. And, looking at the ring that seems to fit perfectly on her finger, metal extended gracefully in the shape of wings from a stone of brilliant gleaming orange when it had been dull gray before- ]
[They all lay bright and powerful in their box, just like they had the day her mother had first shown them to her, and Luce reaches out with a hand that is not quite that of a child's to trace a finger over each of them. She knows the order of them by heart, even if the gems are all as colorless as the metal they're set in.]
[Rain. Cloud. Mist. Lightning. Sun. Storm. Then, at the top, what she's reaching for-]
The sky.
[She murmurs it to herself in a quiet daze, bathrobe still wrapped around her and the shower forgotten even for how humid the room gets.]
no subject
[Dangerous, she knows, to keep it around her neck on a thin chain of silver hidden beneath her clothes, but it's even moreso to hide it in her room where the searching hands and sharp eyes of housekeeping could find it. It's so hard to know who to trust here outside her band, yet somehow.... That feels familiar.]
[She thinks of the vision where there was blood at her feet. And, looking at the ring that seems to fit perfectly on her finger, metal extended gracefully in the shape of wings from a stone of brilliant gleaming orange when it had been dull gray before- ]
[They all lay bright and powerful in their box, just like they had the day her mother had first shown them to her, and Luce reaches out with a hand that is not quite that of a child's to trace a finger over each of them. She knows the order of them by heart, even if the gems are all as colorless as the metal they're set in.]
[Rain. Cloud. Mist. Lightning. Sun. Storm. Then, at the top, what she's reaching for-]
The sky.
[She murmurs it to herself in a quiet daze, bathrobe still wrapped around her and the shower forgotten even for how humid the room gets.]