trans_9 | Fly me to the moon and let me play among the stars! [Closed]

About thirty seconds after he called her name, she appears in the doorway, puffing out a sigh of relief. She had drifted out for a moment to take note of her surroundings in case he asked for directions, which seemed silly now--he seems to have done a perfectly adequate job of finding her.

"Oh, thank Merlin...though I don't know why I was so worried." She pauses, shakes her head. "Well, no, that's not true. There's a perfectly good reason for worrying." And she pauses again, eyeing him from across the room. "I'm quite glad you're alright. And Alice." And there is a smile on her face at the mention of the rat, wan though it may be.

Alex smiled upon seeing her smile. He would have had a lot harder of a time if not for the tracking on his laptop. Alex took a step closer to Luna, "I'm jus' glad I c-could help k-keep you safe." Alice ran down Alex's side and across the floor to Luna, going up to her foot and putting her front paws up on Luna's leg, realizing that she had nothing to use to climb.

Alex used his heel to scratch at his leg, unphased by his untied shoes. "Wh-why were you w-worried?" He wasn't sure if she just meant that him being in a dangerous situation, or if it was something more complicated. It sounded like it should have been.

Her smile becomes amused as she bends to offer a hand to Alice, her palm open to the ceiling to allow the rat to crawl on.

"I don't need much help staying safe," she says, laughter lurking somewhere in her tone as she straightens, Alice in hand. "But thank you."

She watches him, mouth open a bit. After a moment, she tucks her wand behind her left ear (she still has it out from her little sojourn out of the cottage), tugging her long tumble of blonde curls over her shoulder absently.

"We were all in danger, so it only makes sense to worry about friends. I was fairly certain that I was safe--none of the...bobs? Are they called bobs? Anyway, none of them were out this way, so I knew I would be fine, but I had no idea about you and Katara and the others." A pause, and her eyebrows lift slightly. "Have you heard from Katara? Is she alright?"

Alice gladly climbed into the offered hand, happy to see the friendly girl again.

Alex nodded, "I ch-checked on her using the c-comm ring, right after you. I think she's sh-shaken, but who isn't?" He rubbed his left arm with his right hand. It hadn't been confirmed, but his gut told him someone was dead. Someone besides just the unnamed pod sleepers.

"They're c-called bombs... an' they show some o-of the w-worst of muggle technology. Always tryin' to find a more efficient way to k-kill each other." He wondered if the wizarding community of her world was the same.

She looks relieved. "That's good," she says, running a finger down Alice's back before planting her on her shoulder. "I'll find her later, I suppose."

"Wizards are like that, too, though." Her face darkens, her thumb tracing a small but deep scar on the inside of her elbow, a remnant of Bellatrix Lestrange forever embedded in her flesh. "Most of our killing spells aren't so loud, though. I can't imagine wanting to use a gun, really."

Alex looks disgusted at the thought. He shook his head, "Th-they only make more shadows. I won' use anything that'll make more." He notices Luna tracing the scar, a shadow flickering about her. He knew that sense. Every scar came from something. Sure, he couldn't tell you exactly where all of his came from, but a scar that deep? It seemed the sort that went far past the surface. He was sure Luna would tell him about it in time.

Alex wandered over to a piece of plaster that had fallen from the wall and sat on it with a heavy sigh. He should be happy. He was safe, Luna was safe, everyone he knew was safe. He had disarmed his bomb, with only a little bit of friction between him and the other engineer.

Why then did it not feel right?

Was it because of the man who had been taken over by that parasite? Was it just the shock of the situation?

He had been able to work just fine under pressure before. He even somehow enjoyed that real risk. But had he ever before really considered that his life was on the line?

The shoulder of his jacket fell down his arm. He went to fix it, but instead began tracing some of his own scars absently. "M-maybe... Maybe it's not s-so wrong, what the CRP was tryin' ta do... If all the world c-could see shadows... perhaps there w-would be less c-crimes."

She blinks, following his movement with her eyes, his words echoing around her skull. She has no clue what he means by "shadows", but she doesn't much like the increased slump in his shoulders, or the fingers finding old wounds on his arms with such absent-minded intent.

"Shadows? What do you mean," she asks, walking towards him, sitting beside him on the fallen chunk of plaster and stone, head tilted, eyes on his profile.

Alex looked surprised. He hadn't told her, had he? He face-palmed at his own stupidity and then went into an explanation. "I see negative emotions, like anger, sadness, fear, regret, all that stuff, an ta me they sorta look like these three-dimensional shadows around people."

He explained how he needed to eat them to live, and how his specific powers work, even giving a demonstration, forcing one of his tendrils to be visible as he used it to lift up a decent-sized rock. He explained the different tiers of the shadows, and how some would attack him if he got too close, and how that didn't happen with other shadow eaters for some reason.

"It might b-be hard, now that I have friends that aren't shadow eaters... If they're r-really upset... Well, I g-guess I'll figure something out."

She listens, nodding occasionally, fiddling with a few strands of hair. By the time he is finished, she has a great portion of curls twined around her fingers, lips parted as she puzzles over his words. The silence stretches for a few minutes, her lips moving with unspoken words as she thinks, expression shifting occasionally between confusion and comprehension, until she lets go of her hair and looks up at him, a faint, quiet curl to her lips.

"I don't get upset very often, and when I do I do it in private," she says. "I'm not so sure about Katara, but I think you'll be alright. That's very interesting, though." A pause. "It's rather like Dementors, only you're much less horrifying."

Alex would have been a lot more flustered if he knew what a Dementor was. Having no clue, he needed to ask, "D-Dementors? W-well, I'd hope I'm not terrifying. I'm generally a bit too busy, being afraid of everything else. I-If you ever are upset, I wouldn't mind at the very least talking... If it's something small, then it'd actually be good, c'-cause, if you don' m-mind, then, well, maybe, if it's okay, I c-could maybe make y-you f-feel better, an' that'd mean I'd get ta e-eat without having to g-get c-close ta some random stranger ta e-eat..."

As he brings up that last point he becomes increasingly more awkward. He keeps looking away, running his fingers through his hair. If she said no, well, it wouldn't mean much to him, but he really didn't want her to feel uncomfortable or upset by the request.

She frowns, and there is probably a bit of a shadow about her now, memories of her second year at Hogwarts, the train ride to school at the beginning of year, when the whole world went cold and all she could see was her mother disappearing in a beautiful and terrible burst of misused magic, smoke rising from the bits of her body that remained, Luna's own wails breaking the air, her father's tears--she blinks, shakes her head, smiles a bit sadly.

"Dementors are one of the bad things about my world, I suppose. They're tall, skeletal creatures shrouded in black that feed on negative emotion, only they do it much more deliberately and maliciously than it sounds you do. They make you feel cold, take all glints of hope away, smother you under blankets of misery and sadness. They're so abhorred that their entire species has been placed inside Azkaban--a wizard prison--to keep the prisoners in check." She sighs quietly. "What better place to put creatures you hate than among people you hate? Sometimes I wonder if the witches and wizards in there really deserve to be driven mad by their own horridness, but after the war..." She shakes her head again, pushes the clouds away, smiles. "Well, I don't wonder anymore."

She peers at him curiously, gaze probing and unnervingly intent before she turns pink, as well, and looks away.

"I wouldn't mind," she says, staring at her hands in her lap, hair hiding her face from view.

Alex could see that the Dementors upset Luna. He couldn't imagine precisely what she had experienced, but he wasn't about to push it. He knew that would just make it worse.

And he hated that these creatures did sound so similar to him. They both fed off of other peoples pain. He doubted that they could feel any themselves, or they would not do such a thing. That was the big difference. He could feel every bit of pain he ate. He got up and knelt next to Luna, putting his arms around her shoulders, "I w-would never seek to make you hurt any more. I o-only want to take your pain away."

Her eyes widen when he hugs her, her chin planting itself on his shoulder as she reciprocates mindlessly.

"Of course you wouldn't," she says, sounding surprised as she pats his back. "You're nothing like a Dementor, Alex." A pause. "If anything, you make me happier." She says this quietly, as though wishing she could hide her face in his shoulder and mumble it so he can't hear it at all, but alas, she does no such thing, and it is perfectly audible--to him, anyway, which has a tide of red suffusing her cheeks, because she's pretty sure that saying that to him means more than it would if she said it to Katara or Ginny.

"G-good." He gave her a little squeeze, and then realized that he was holding her and he never had her permission to do that and she might not want it but might be afraid to say something. He sort of jumped back, his ears a wonderful fuchsia colour, "S-sorry! It r-really does make me glad that I c-can make you happier though." He smiled at her, but quickly looked off to the side going a little redder.

She relaxes back into a normal sitting position, running a hand rather nervously through her hair, very aware of the heated state of her face.

"Always apologizing," she says, smiling faintly. "It's going to be difficult to cure you of that compulsion, isn't it? You have nothing to apologize for. At all."

"I-I'm s- er, y-yeah, it will be... I guess, well, it's been sorta ingraned..."

His father would hit a little less if he apologized after all.

"I just don't think you have anything to apologize for. It's not my place to declare people's personal habits improper, but I've always been taught to use the power of apology sparingly. If you respect its integrity, it has more value. It's like the way currency inflates--the more of it you make, the less it means." She had been given quite a few lectures along those lines by a straight-faced Xenophilius, instructing her to clean up the goat milk she had spilled instead of apologizing for spilling it. Her mother had patted her head and offered to make her tea afterwards, always the sweeter of her parents, planting a gentle kiss on Luna's forehead as she slid a cup of tea with milk and honey onto the table in front of her, instructing her to let it cool before drinking it, or she would get a dragon tongue. Luna had giggled and growled at her mother, pretending to be a dragon, and her mother had chuckled and gone back to working in the other room. Sometimes, if she listened hard enough, she could still hear her mother's quill scratching over parchment.

"Father taught just the opposite..." B-but I honestly do feel sorry when I apologize... I-I'll try to less, but I guess... I guess I'm just good at carrying guilt..."

A smile twitched at his lips. He looked back up a Luna, "But I l-like the sentiment of what you've b-been taught. It makes a lot o-of sense..."

She frowns, hearing the proper noun and looming presence in the word "Father" when it came from Alex's mouth--it made her think of a Muggle prayer she had heard once, Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name... Somehow she doubts that the man in Alex's past deserved revering. She chooses not to ask, though, knowing that he would say what he needed to say when he needed to say it, and that it's none of her business otherwise.

"I've heard guilt tends to cling to shoulders that welcome it," she says sagely, eyebrows lifting slightly. "My parents raised me well, I suppose. They were a lovely couple when it came to life lessons."

Alex smiles at her, "I c-can tell. You're really brilliant." His hand reached up to his shoulders as if he could push the guilt off of them. He wanted to stop these habits of his, but saying he would and actually doing it were two incredibly different things. "They sound really fantastic. I... I really don't remember Mum much... B-but I've taken from Father what I shouldn' do, mostly. I'm 'fraid he taught me some of his temper, though I try r-really hard to be n-nothing like him."

"Well, I don't know about brilliant, but thank you," she says with a small smile. "If you don't mind me saying...your father doesn't sound like the most loving of parents."

Alex's smile fades and he shivers a bit. He looked off to the side, eyes unfocused, "yeah, I g-guess not. I've started to, well, ta realize that he wasn' as g-great as I thought... I usedta worship him, e-even with all the stuff he did. It's still hard to think of him as b-being really bad. He was... t-troubled. He h-had his reasons."

"If you ever need to talk, I'm here," she says, reaching up to squeeze his hand gently, and that's really all she plans on saying--she's curious, of course, but she wants him to volunteer information, not answer her questions. Telling a story is better than responding to probing interrogatory dialogue as far as getting things off one's chest, and she knows that.

Alex settles down next to Luna, and Alice returns to his shoulder. She knew when Alex was upset, and she knew that he appreciated the snuggling she gave him, even if sometime he couldn't even bring himself to really pet her.

This time he did, stroking between her ears. "T-thanks... I guess, well, the scars help, i-in a way. They remind me of what he's done, but they're n-not nice ta look at. I think I'd r-rather them go away, but I dunno how much like me I-I'd feel w-without them... B-but, I hate the m-memories they bring..." Alex was absently rubbing at his right forearm, the jacket sleeve getting pushed back to reveal the sort of thing he was talking about."

As he talks, her eyes are on the exposed part of his wrist and arm, expression growing grim. A father that would do that to their son is not a father, in her opinion, and she finds it hard to fathom that any person would be able to do that to a family member. She has seen a great deal of cruelty in the year before waking up on-ship, and she knows the scope of human savagery, the level to which Lord Voldemort's Death Eaters had been brought, but a man hurting his own son--she wouldn't imagine this, even from Lucius Malfoy himself.

Gently, she touches a cigarette burn--it looks like a wand burn, to her--her finger tracing it carefully, her thumb landing on a line with remnants of what look, to her, like sewing stitches, a thought that horrifies her. Knowing nothing of Muggle medicine, she doesn't know about stitches and their use for holding large cuts together, so she assumes that the stitches were another way for his father to hurt him, her eyes clouding with an odd type of anger, accompanied by a misty, glassy shine the belies the tears of frustration and sorrow she is withholding, eyebrows knitting together.

"I'm so sorry," she says quietly, her heart heavy enough that she feels its weight in her stomach.

Alex jumped, pulling his arm back a little, but then allowing the touch. She wasn't going to be hurting him or anything like that, so there was no reason to pull back from her. Seeing the tier 1 shadow flare around her, he forces a smile, "I-it's fine. It's n-not like any of it was your fault or anything..." He pulled back his sleeve, "I m-mean, it wasn't too bad, it's not like I g-got all of these at once. That woulda been bad. An' he always had a reason, so it w-was a little my fault too. I-if I listened b-better, than it wouldn't have b-been as much. If I c-coulda done something f-for mum, then she w-woulda helped him k-keep his temper."

These were the justifications he had repeated to himself, partially ingrained in him by this father, and partially to help himself feel better about the situation.

She drags her eyes away from his arm slowly, staring up at him with a look of such utter devastation that the tears brimming unnoticed in her eyes aren't even the worst part--it is the downturn of her mouth, and the disbelief in the arch of her eyebrows, the crease of sorrow pressed between them.

"None of these could possibly be your fault," she says, looking back down at his arm, running fingers over a burn mark, a deeper line, her other hand curling around his in an unconscious, but tender manner. She shakes her head. "If he's your father, nothing you could ever do should provoke these kinds of things. You don't...you don't raise children by force."

His words weren't doing anything to dispel the shadow around Luna. He hated seeing that thing hanging there, bringing tears to her eyes. He had to say something to make her feel better. Something to get rid of that shadow.

He forced a smile. If you looked carefully you could see how old faded scars caused the skin to pull in various places, "W-well, he's not here now, so it really isn't that big of a d-deal. As l-long as he's not h-here, then he c-can't hurt me any more, right?"

of course that was wrong. Things his father had done years ago were still hurting him now.

She swallows, trying to clear the knot from her throat, doing her best to listen to his words and let the emotion struggling to be anger roll off her back. Her eyes catch on a thin scar on his forehead, barely exposed through his fringe, and after staring for a moment, she brushes the hair away gently, smiling rather sadly.

"We talked about fairytales the first time we met," she says softly, her fingers barely skimming his forehead, following the line of the scar. "There's a legend in my world about a boy with a scar on his forehead--The Boy Who Lived, we call him, cursed by You-Know-Who in an attempt to kill him. The curse backfired, and the Dark Lord fled into exile, not quite dead, clinging to life through some Dark means, and though the Boy's parents were dead around him, his house in ruins, he went on. He grew up with Muggles that treated him poorly, and when he found out he was a wizard, he didn't know what to make of himself. And then he made everything of himself, and when You-Know-Who returned, more powerful than before, the Boy Who Lived became the Chosen One, and he sacrificed himself for the world. And he lived to tell the tale, though his scar told it for him. Just a little scar, shaped like a bolt of lightning, hidden by a fringe of hair in an attempt to be normal..."

She trails off, her hand falling to her lap, eyes growing distant, something of her own private sorrow lingering in the line of her shoulders. It shocks her, sometimes, how much she misses Harry, and Ginny, and all of them. What she wouldn't give to see them again...

Alex cast his eyes away, "I-I'm nothing so fantastic... He s-sounds like such a great hero, but he's just a legend. That s-sorta thing n-never really happens. This sc-scar wasn' so fantastic either... I-it's from one evening, I f-forgot ta prepare dinner, an' father c-came home, th-though he u-usually says out on Wednesdays an' eats at the bar. He was angry with me, an' he hit me with his empty beer bottle. He'd n-never waste alcohol on me..."

He smiled, "There were lotsa stories like that in our world though, p-people going against all odds, being a h-hero, saving the world, saving people. B-but people like that don' exist, do they? I've never heard of anyone."

"Oh, he existed. He was a year above me in school, and one of my very good friends. I was there when he killed You-Know-Who. He dyed his eyebrow yellow once. It still mystifies me," she says dreamily, having eased back into her typical serenity, though she does sigh at Alex's story.

"I don't understand your father. He's your guardian--he should cook you dinner, or at least help. It's such a silly thing to get angry over. The few times Daddy's been angry at me, it was over bigger things, like the time I accidentally blew out the roof when I got upset over the extinction of the Dodo bird."

The shadow faded away, and Alex relaxed, enough that he could be completely amazed by what she said. "Really? Wait... what?" Alex's eyes widened and his jaw dropped in shock. "You were... With a legend? An' you c-can blow off roofs? I had no Idea your magic was that strong! B-but, people like that really existed?"

The bit about his father might have sounded rather odd to Luna, but Alex had a hard time imagining a household where things like that didn't happen. His father had fooled him for a very long time, telling him that every little boy had to have 'private visits' with older men, and that sometimes there was even a lady that would want to play with him too. It wasn't until he talked with Mikel that he thought there was anything different, and even then he had chalked that up to the fact that Mikel didn't have a father who could arrange those play dates for him.

Still, Alex wasn't going to go any further into that, not after having managed to get rid of Luna's shadow. He was sure she wouldn't take any of that well, and it was the only thing he really avoided speaking of. He might use a euphemism to explain it in passing, but he would refuse to go into it. Even with Mikel, he avoided speaking of it, but he would rather explain than lie. He hated lying and he hated liars. At least, after hearing that his father caused most of the scars on his skin, most people saw no need to pry further. Most people accepted that as a reason for the way he was, even though he found it easier to take he cigarette burns and the back hands.

"Oh yes," she says, nodding. "Harry's a wonderful person, and magic can do almost anything. It's why they send us to school--if we don't learn how to control our magic with wands and words, we could be terrible. Not that wands and words stop some from being terrible, but it becomes a conscious decision, rather than a mistake."

"People like that exist all over the world. My Headmaster--well, he's...he's dead now, I suppose, but he was one of the legends. I wouldn't be surprised if people everywhere knew his name, and You-Know-Who was a bit of a legend himself, as was Grindelwald. Harry and Professor Dumbledore were some of the truly good ones, though."

If he ever chooses to tell her about that part of his life, she will be suitably horrified. She will cry, that time.

Alex continued to stare in wonderment. "I-I c-can't think of any heroes in my world, not any recent ones at least... Your world, i-it sounds so g-great. I wish I c-could've lived there. A w-world where legends were real... Then, s-since Harry Potter was so well known in my world 'c-cause of the books, he r-really must have b-been special."

He decided then that he would have to find and read the books that told of Luna's world. If she knew the famous Harry Potter, then maybe she would be in the books as well.

A moment later he wondered aloud, "Wh-what sorta things can you do with your m-magic anyway?"

"I'm sure there are heroes in your world--you just don't know about them. And anyway, my world was wonderful, but also terrible. I'm just grateful that I wasn't born during the first of You-Know-Who's wars."

Her smile grows, and she almost glows as she says, "Harry was really wonderful. In my fourth year, he and Hermione, and sort of Ron, formed this secret club where we went to learn how to defend ourselves against You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters, because the Ministry had gotten rid of our functional Defense Against the Dark Arts program. They were convinced that Harry and Professor Dumbledore's claims that You-Know-Who was back were just attention-grabbing antics, and that both of them had gone round the bend. So we learned from Harry, and at the end of the year, we went off to save Harry's godfather, and fought off Death Eaters, and Harry fought with You-Know-Who himself. His godfather died, which was sad, but he'll see him again. I know he will."

"Oh, all sorts of things," she says. "You can Summon things, conjure things, transfigure things--well, supposedly. I'm quite terrible at Transfiguration. I barely passed my O.W.L. in that class."

She pauses, pulls her wand from behind her ear, and says "Avifors!". The small block of plaster at which she had pointed turns into a flock of small, yellow birds, chirping and circling Luna's head merrily. "Really, the only thing we can't do is bring the dead back, and even that has been almost accomplished."

Alex looked a bit troubled by the tone Luna took when talking about Harry. She seemed so happy to talk about him.

Was this... Was he jealous?

He stifled the feeling, and smiled wider when the stone was turned into birds, but he then shivered at the idea of bringing the dead back. "D-death one t-time around generally brings e-enough sadness, an' anyone whose death is little mourned, w-well, I dunno if I'd want them back, ya know?"

He smiled again though as a bird landed next to Alice on his shoulder, sending her squeaking down his sleeve. "B-but being able ta do all that, it's r-really amazing!"

Luna fails to notice the troubled look lingering on Alex's face, her eyes focused on the birds fluttering around the place.

"Oh, I agree entirely. And those that have succeeded have received imperfect results. Things like Inferi." She swallows, the edges of a shadow creeping into the air at that word. How many nightmares she has had about the Inferi...

"It's incredible, yes. I don't know what I would do without magic."

"I-Infe- N-nevermind." Seeing the shadows that word brought made Alex decide against inquiring further, and instead abruptly changed the subject. "S-so, what sorta games and stuff do you have in y-your world?"

She smiles a bit at the subject change, though the expression looks, for once, a little strained.

"We don't have games in the sense that Muggles do--they have those odd elec...tonic? ones. We have...well, we have Quidditch, and Gobstones, and chess, and card games, and some people trade Chocolate Frog cards for fun. The WWN is quite entertaining."

"E-Electronics," Alex corrects, only to promptly inquire, "G-Gobstones? Q-Quidditch? WWN? W-we have chess an' c-card games too. Y-you mentioned Ch-Chocolate Frogs before too. Th-they're not real frogs, a-are they?"

He hoped that if he just kept things up, that her expression would start getting a little less strained.

She shakes her head slightly. "Electronics, yes. I never got a chance to take a Muggle Studies course, so I get a lot of the words wrong." She pauses, her expression easing. "Gobstones I can't say I know much about--I've never played it. All I know is that they squirt this foul-smelling liquid at you if you do poorly. It would make the Common Room smell for days. Quidditch is our main sport, played on broomsticks. It's a wonderful game--there are six goal posts, three on each side, and the goal is to get the Quaffle through the other team's hoops. But there are two other kinds of ball on the playing field--there are the Bludgers, which rocket around, trying to knock players off their broomsticks, that are beaten off by the Beaters, and there's the Snitch, which is a tiny golden ball with wings that flies around for the entire game. If the Seeker catches the Snitch, the match is over, and the team of the Seeker wins 150 points. The WWN is the Wizarding Wireless Network. It's our version of the radio. They play lots of good music, and news broadcasts. Daddy always hated it when I turned it up when they played the Weird Sisters, but their music is so good!"

"W-wait," he says, still several sentences behind, "Y-you r-ride broomsticks?" That wasn't just part of stories? The wands, okay, they made a decent amount of sense, but the brooms? He totally missed the explanation of how the game was played, and barely registered what the WWN was. His mind was too busy trying to register the whole broomstick thing.

"Broomsticks, yes," she says, nodding. "They're bewitched to fly, though these days it's much more complicated than that. They have to be finely tuned and regulated to meet safety standards, because Quidditch is quite a dangerous sport, and that's without riding a shoddy broom."

Alex, once again, stares at Luna, absolutely amazed. "Y-you fly?"

He imagined there had to be a shadow eater somewhere that had the ability to fly, but it still struck him as fascinating. "Wh-what sorta regulations are there?"

"Oh, yes. Wizards have flown since the 900s, but always on broomsticks or carpets. Carpets have been banned in Britain, though--they're hazardous to the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, because it's quite hard to make them invisible."

She has to think for a moment, eyes drifting ceilingward.

"Well, I suppose they regulate speed and aerodynamics, to keep players from flying too quickly, and there are all kinds of spells and charms put on to protect against tampering and shattering, though that didn't stop Harry's broom from shattering that one time, though I suppose not many things could survive hitting the Whomping Willow. I don't really know the half of it, though--I commentated a few school games of Quidditch, but I'm terrible at broomstick flying. I prefer thestrals."

Alex continues to look at her completely shocked and lost. Quidditch, broomstick flying, magic carpets, a Whomping Willow? Thestrals? Wizarding Secrecy?

He was stunned into silence for several minutes, wondering if Luna would explain anything more.

Fly me to the moon and let me play among the stars! [Closed]

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I just realized, Katara, Luna, and Alex all lost their mothers pretty early. :|

They did, didn't they? ; w;

Poor kids!

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Alex needs a shocked icon that doesn't look like he just saw someone murdered.

He really does.

I drew him sleeping in my notebook in Japanese class o///o

Eee! <3

just need to get it on my computer and figure out art-y things on this new OS

:3

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