Snippet #2490121

Lumina sits on the with her back to the window, knees drawn up to her chest. She rests her forehead on her knees, eyes closed, lost in thought. In her right hand, she clutches a piece of crumbled paper with all her might, calling its soothing words to mind for the umpteenth time.

My Dearest Child,

These past two weeks without you have been hard to bear. Sometimes I wonder to myself; what did I do to deserve this? To have one child cruelly torn from your world, only to have another child leave, and leave willingly at that? Two children barely a step into the crude, unforgiving world of adulthood. Is there anything worse?

But what am I saying? I should be thrilled by the prospect of my firstborn dying for such a worthy cause, giving his all to the very end of his short life. And I should be touched that my secondborn was inspired by his sacrifice, so that she may do the same, face the same terrors for the good of others. A mother's dream.

But, alas, our seperation hasn't been easy. I know contact is risky, so I took the necessary measures so that you would be safe. And I know within my heart that you will understand this mother hen's having to check on her chick, though her chicks are plenty.

Your father is proud of you. He is doing everything he can to keep us all alive and healthy in this world, in the stead of you and your brother. We have moved, but you'll recieve the information once it is safe. We do not know yet when that time will come.

Your sister says that she hates you for leaving her with your jobs, but that she still loves you.

Your sister says that you were I far better teacher than I, who has taken up her education in your stead; I cannot argue with such sound logic.

Your sister asks when you'll be coming home.

Remember, dear, that we'll always be ready to take you home. We will not hate you if you cannot find it in your heart to do as your brother did; we will love you no matter what.

Stay strong, Child.

Mother


Lumina feels a gentle tear roll down her cheek, but she wipes it away swiftly. No use letting the others see her cry. Not like they ever paid her any mind. She rarely even speaks more than one or two words at a time. But it was better that way, for everyone.

"Everyone, meet your newest sister, Artemis!"

Lumina listens to the excited replies from her peers.

"Relax on the name thing; it's just something he does to keep our identities anonymous. We can waste time by giving out names later, Miss."

"Welcome to Saiken." (Okay, so perhaps that wasn't so entusiastic.)

"K-KAWAII!....Oops there I go again speaking my mind. Sorry, my name is Aphrodite, nice to meet you!"

Lumina smiles shakily to herself at the last response. The long run-on sentences told who had said it.

She hesitates for a moment, still sitting toward the back of the room. Should she speak up, or just stay put? No one would notice if she chose the latter, she's ceertain. But then again...

Lumina gets to her feet, letteer still clutched in her hand. Her eyes fall on a pretty young woman whom everyone shrounds. She speaks from a few feet away, hardly daring get any closer.

"Hello, there," she says quietly, barely audible. She looks down at her feet, cheeks red as she gives a small life. "It's good to see a new face around here every once in a while." Face still tomato-like, she looks up, giving Artemis a sheepish smile.