Presence
Allies
Lacuna told Hamia she'd gone back because she'd forgotten a box of old things. She'd dismissed it as important, but less then what it was.
A battered cardboard box, the corners soft and the black marker faded. Once it said fragile. Before it became what it was it housed her grandmother's china. Underneath the pealing tape and the four interlocked-folded panels securing it was something much more precious.
Mechanically the near giantess opens the box, carefully she tugs at the folds to not tear at the cardboard. The smell hits her first, and with it a gut punch to her memories. Shakily she pulls at a swatch of pink. A blanket no larger then a tea-towel. It's fabric, soft and worn, the blond, clutches it in her meaty fists and brings it to her face. She breathes in, and can just imagine that addictive scent all babies have. Eventually she sets the blanket on her lap and reaches for the next treasure. A bear, purple with pink paws. Not as soft as the blanket, but that was a given. It was nylon, for easier cleaning. Ruefully she chuckles, surprising herself with the sound, fuck. How many times did she need to clean throwup off this bear?
Next came were a stack of brittle pages, careworn. School projects and flights of fancy. Thumbs caress the mother's day cards, glitter falling off them. Faded photos, and diaries she'd read and reread. Once in desperation to know how and why, now lay locked and and she regrets her need, and her shame. More stuffed animals. Beanie Babies, and Care Bears.
The timeline of a life lived.
Pandemonium is called to the shitty motel room, the Warlock vision wakes as it narrows in scope. Her entire being focused upon what she had taken out of the box.
Her connection to them was vibrant, interwoven and glowing.
Tears fall silently. Rolling down her face, leaving blotchy red patches.
They were connected to the box, their home. To her, yes. But to the life they were meant for...
...the threads of space fray, fizzling out into nothing.
There was no one there.
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