It is a bit odd to me to think of death in terms of accidents. It shouldn't be though. I remember the day vividly in which my uncle Ifrit had protected us from a bear, defended us with his life, and the day Seamus had become something less of himself. The way his body had taken so long to heal but had never full repaired itself. Death came quick and with a fury in that case. My parent's death was different. Peaceful. I had felt sadness at their passing but also an extreme sense of peace and completion for they had gone to the other side together, singing their songs after having spent many days and nights playing with us. Their love could never be truly gone or forgotten. But an accident of just wrong place and wrong time.. it seemed malicious of fate.
Especially with the circumstances. I offer a queer look down at her head at the mention of matehood, having simply assumed her parents were already mated, but clearly there had been other issues in their life I had not known about. Truly, emotional issues were never even considered with me. I was a physical being. She collapsed upon me as if I was a pillar of strength and for her, I would be, but I feel like a sail in a particularly brutal wind because I have no way to smooth it. My tongue is tied - I cannot KILL rocks. I cannot wreak vengeance on DIRT.
That leaves only comfort. She seems calmer with me telling her what to do so I think maybe that is what I should do. It certainly makes me feel more stable as well. "Come. Come now, Vesta, follow me." I demand, stepping back slightly and demanding she rise, waiting on it. "Let's go down to the creek so you can wash up and get something to drink. You will feel better." I think? Water, water always seemed to make things calmer. I guess? But I don't leave her side, I press into it, allowing her to use me as a crutch if need be. Emotional wounds were debilitation, I told myself, and yet I thrilled at the closeness. I felt as if I was at once electrified but also crawling out of my skin.
"What will you do now?" The words come out slow, thoughtful, but I don't turn my eyes to her. I don't want to see her if she tells me that she will leave because suddenly I am not sure I would let her. Somewhere in my silent protection I had grown close to this girl, this girl I barely knew, and I wasn't ready to give it up.