Though the darkness has given way to the light of a summer day Bellamy can feel it creeping toward her. Twisting, calling… her ears pinned to her skull, a whine leaving her lips. Why couldn’t she find her strength? Where was that fire that once burned with her, that spit back with defiance at anyone who dared threaten to hold her down? The woman that against all odds changed her fate? Carved a path for herself, made not just a home but a whole pack for her family? Her mind raced, growing loud, until all at once a single voice, soft and reassuring, reached her. Everything else silenced within her. The darkness drew back, the vile thoughts and feelings retreating at the kindness and hope the presence of the one who had approached brought with him. Bellamy lifted her gaze, tears beginning to sting her eyes.
“Ace…” Her voice wavered, and the woman rose to her paws. Seeing him again, once more when she needed that light, that reassurance… She closed the distance between them and wrapped a leg around him as she held him close. “Divinites above Acere… I…” She could feel the tears and yet all she could picture was that crooked smile he had given her. She squeezed her eyes closed, taking a moment, trying to calm herself. She needed to pull herself together. She drew back, ears tilted back, but she managed a sad smile through the tears as she looked at him.
“I’m glad some things never change...” The smile wavered, a concern flickering into her mind. “Acere… I haven’t crossed to the stars yet, have I…?” The last time she had been here it was before the hunt for Gavroche's murderer. Though she felt killing him had been the right course of action, doing so seemed to encourage her decline. Acknowledging his deeds and delivering justice cemented the fact that Gavroche was gone. Well… the Gav she had known. A beautiful time in her life was stolen away and she hadn’t been there to fight for him. She hadn’t been there to fight for Acere either… and yet, knowing how Acere felt about it, she knew Gav would not have blamed her.
She couldn’t help but wonder if she’d let herself go too far. It wasn’t as if she was a young woman anymore. She had aged, gray beginning to touch her face and throat, and Gavroche’s death had aged her even further. She had stopped caring for herself. Her coat was unkempt, having lost so much of her weight that her frame was now light. She would have believed that her heart had given up. Was that what the darkness had been before…?
"Speech," 'Thought.'
Berserker
