When In Doubt, Go With Blue

From Whence You Came

You still weren't sure how long you'd been standing guard, taking the place of her Warder, unable to move forward. There were no changes, so you didn't move. A few of the kids came up to visit over who knew how long. Their Headmistress likely warned them off this room. 

Interestingly, Fiona broke rank first. She snuck up the steps during play time, while Miss Peregrine was occupied with the policeman. You nor Alma had bothered to shut the door so the braided brunette just poked her head around the frame and she saw you, more grown up. Gasping, the child rushed into the room and up to you. She wrapped your waist in a hug and began babbling immediately. "Birds! It's so good to see you! How've you been where'd you go? We missed you so much around here-" The girl continued on like an auctioneer; it seemed she would never run out of words. Until she did. 

You were no less stuck in thought or emotionally conflicted in one of the children's presences. You had royally risked their safety with the way Alma could've been out of commission. Obviously, fortunately, they had gotten through a few resets with her hurting. It may have even made her healing more difficult. And you had run off, true out of fear of causing more damage, but if they had been bombed, you should have been right there with them. You couldn't forgive yourself enough to reciprocate. You were berating yourself too much to even take comfort in the sweet girl. But your hands still found the root of her French braids. You trailed your fingers down the crisscross pattern of her hair. 

Fiona was no longer against you, but far enough back that she could look up at you. She was waiting for answers you didn't have, still. You looked at the vulnerable navy-clad woman on the bed then back at the little (older than you) girl. She followed where you looked, and her face was quite sad when she looked back at you. "Oh, you found a real life." 

You still tried to soothe the girl with your thumb on her cheek, but you still worried about your affect on them. Right now, from every perspective you could see, you were poison. Fiona still looked sad, but she left you with another hug and a forced smile. Alma visited you frequently. She brought tea or food. She asked if she could have Fiona grow some useful herbs or if you wanted a chair or cot. Anything she could think of to ask, it seemed to her. Alma was being so kind and generous, being herself to try and care for you and Moiraine and it just about broke your heart. It tore you up with guilt and your only response was to shut it out, even as you resided in her home, and that made you feel a million times worse. It was a vicious cycle which left you paralyzed and made you want to cry your eyes out. So, she was left to drink both teacups, doing all of the talking. You felt ungrateful and more guilty. 

That night, as the moon hung high in the sky, you broke your position to sit beside the Blue again. Your feet and legs were killing you, but you were determined to be something good for the woman who had such faith in you. It seemed that was all you could do for now. You didn't know what else to. So, taking her arms once again, you let your Power pour into Moiraine, mending what you could find and a few you didn't see yet. She was internally hurt, but it seemed through her connection to the Source. You. You pushed that thought away and your cheeks turned molten for a moment before you let go. You let out a whimper and your head dropped, but you pushed yourself to stand and returned to your post. 

Emma came to see you next. Fiona obviously spilled the beans. You heard the heavy clunk of her boots amidst the empty house. You wondered if everyone else were on the daily walk; it wasn't uncommon for Emma to want some alone time instead. Only she wasn't alone; she came to you. The greeting was useless in all respects; you stayed focused entirely on your charge. "Fiona said you weren't talking," she commented. "So just listen. None of us are mad at you. O-or blame you. You might have been one of the physically oldest, but you were still - are still, the youngest Peculiar in the Loop. We all had decades to understand and practice our peculiarities. That being said, you were and will always be welcome here, in your home. You didn't have to leave." Emma, a teenager, used your selective mutism for a dramatic exit. You would never tell her that she had told you to go.