ミ☆ - 𝙶𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸'𝚖 𝚊 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚖𝚎
In which their loyalties lie with the first order, but they're both torn, undecided, broken. In each other, they find themselves.
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡...
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fade; chapter thirty-seven
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
SHE SHOULD BE DEAD. She might be, now that she thinks about it. Florence opens her eyes and founds herself in a white void that slowly materializing around her until she is no longer stood surrounded by nothingness. She is, in fact, stood at the top of a large building on a balcony overlooking an outrageously beautiful valley. The sun is rising just behind the distant mountains, casting a comfortable light upon her skin. Just now, she realizes she is no longer dressed in her thick first order garments but instead clad a long white dress sitting snuggly on her figure.
Sensing someone behind her, she turns around. She does not recognize the man immediately, but in her hearts she knows it is her grandfather. She just knows, and despite the circumstances, Florence manages a smile. He looks nothing like he had expected him to. She had expected someone older. But this version of him isn't, he looks rather young, in her eyes. She sees so much of her own father in him, in his eyes, perhaps, the shape of his face, the kindness in his looks. She feels her heart leap with nerves.
"Am I dead?" She dares ask him after a short moment of silence, uncertain of what to say. But she is not entirely sure she wants to know the answer to that question. If the answer is yes — perhaps she had been wrong to think she would be okay to die just now. There is so much she has yet to do, a whole life she wants to live. At least this place is gorgeous.
"On the brink, I would say," he replies. His accent is reminiscent of Rey's, now that she has heard it. "But no. Not entirely."
She sighs in relief, turning around completely to look at him, letting one hand rest on the balcony railing. "It feels..." she pauses, searching within herself to find a way to describe how she feels right now, and she comes to realize it doesn't feel like anything. No worries, no fear, no stress and most certainly no pain. It feel like nothing. And it feels freeing. It feels liberating. It feels wonderful. "It feels good."
"It feels like nothing," he counters, manners calm. "Which is, perhaps, why it feels so good. But while all the bad things may be gone, it also means all the good things are. Happiness, love, joy..." he trails off, meeting her eyes.
She tilts her head to the side. "I guess you're right."
"I am right," he arches a brow, prompting a small laugh form Florence. She looks out at the view again, utterly taken aback by the beauty of this place. She lets a moment of fleeting silence rest between them, taking her time to not only relish at the gorgeous view but also think about what one would ask their deceased grandfather. She has always figured herself to be a person with many plans, always at least sort of in control of the situations she finds herself in. But lately, she has found herself being unable to grasp ahold of time. Things are happening that she cannot control and she is struggling between pursuing what she wants out of this life and doing the right thing.
