[ For the first time since the meeting, Coraline is fully out of her self-imposed exile near constant vigil at the church. Denial can only take someone so far, and after nearly 3 weeks of waiting. Well. This is how far it’s going to take her. They aren’t coming back. None of them are.
So she’s here. Methodically making boats for each and every one of the fallen, even those she had never met. From Rafe, the asshole, to Gene, who definitely deserved better. The designs are simple, and each has the name of the lost written on it in black marker. Once she finishes with those, she moves on to those left back home, hopefully still alive and happy: study partners, fellow heroes, teachers, mentors members of her dance troupes… even Bliss. God she never thought she’d miss that crazy person. She’s there for nearly a day straight, the pile of boats next to her growing as she works with a frenzied energy. She rarely stops except to gather more supplies or when purposely bothered, mostly by spirits seeking help.
It’s only when she reaches the last 2 that she slows. These are given a bit more care. While she isn’t good enough at origami to make a more intricate design, she does her best to decorate them, adding little doodles and flourishes that remind her best friend and mother.
Once she finishes with those, she just… stares at her finished creations for a long moment, face blank and body deathly still. Around her, the shadows churn lightly, a counterpoint to the overall calm. The seconds draw into minutes, and just as things seem to reach some sort of tumultuous climax, she sends out the first boat.
This time when she cries, it’s like a catharsis. And when the last boat is sent away for her mother, for the first time since… everything, she feels only peace. ]
II.
[ She’s sitting at the harbor edge when the insects return, captivated by the glittering stars reflected in the still water. She doesn’t even notice at first, her hearing being what it is. It’s only when a particularly determined cicada SCREAMS from a tree nearby, startling her out of her reverie that she realizes what’s happening. ]
Holy shit. Do you hear that?
[ She asks reverently, turning to the person nearby. ]
Coraline Li | OTA
[ For the first time since the meeting, Coraline is fully out of her
self-imposed exilenear constant vigil at the church. Denial can only take someone so far, and after nearly 3 weeks of waiting. Well. This is how far it’s going to take her. They aren’t coming back. None of them are.So she’s here. Methodically making boats for each and every one of the fallen, even those she had never met. From Rafe, the asshole, to Gene, who definitely deserved better. The designs are simple, and each has the name of the lost written on it in black marker. Once she finishes with those, she moves on to those left back home, hopefully still alive and happy: study partners, fellow heroes, teachers, mentors members of her dance troupes… even Bliss. God she never thought she’d miss that crazy person. She’s there for nearly a day straight, the pile of boats next to her growing as she works with a frenzied energy. She rarely stops except to gather more supplies or when purposely bothered, mostly by spirits seeking help.
It’s only when she reaches the last 2 that she slows. These are given a bit more care. While she isn’t good enough at origami to make a more intricate design, she does her best to decorate them, adding little doodles and flourishes that remind her best friend and mother.
Once she finishes with those, she just… stares at her finished creations for a long moment, face blank and body deathly still. Around her, the shadows churn lightly, a counterpoint to the overall calm. The seconds draw into minutes, and just as things seem to reach some sort of tumultuous climax, she sends out the first boat.
This time when she cries, it’s like a catharsis. And when the last boat is sent away for her mother, for the first time since… everything, she feels only peace. ]
II.
[ She’s sitting at the harbor edge when the insects return, captivated by the glittering stars reflected in the still water. She doesn’t even notice at first, her hearing being what it is. It’s only when a particularly determined cicada SCREAMS from a tree nearby, startling her out of her reverie that she realizes what’s happening. ]
Holy shit. Do you hear that?
[ She asks reverently, turning to the person nearby. ]