st. peter loses cool and bars the gates

Poem wasn’t asleep. She didn’t think that she would be able to sleep again. The smell of the smoke and the flashed of fire as it singed her fur was all she could see as she tried to close her blue and lavender gaze. Seeing her aunt Eulogy bloodied and soaked to the bone, afraid that where Noir hadn’t succeeded in taking her life the fire had in taking Eulogy’s. On top of everything she’d experienced after only wanting to help, she hadn’t seen Edgar.

She hadn't been able to call for him, her throat was too raw from the smoke. She was convinced that after two miracles there wouldn’t be a third for her best friend. Poem wanted so badly to talk to him about everything that flashed in her head, instead she bottled it up. It made her tummy hurt, and she had a terrible headache. When Epitaph limped by her there was a sense of relief. The tension she hadn’t realized was there fell from her shoulders as she whispered his name.

”Taphy?” Her voice was plagued with the effects of the smoke on her, and her inability to process the trauma from the day couldn’t have been more obvious as she sobbed softly. She instinctively reached out for him, asking wordlessly for his affection.