There are two things Cinder becomes aware of immediately when the world takes shape around her: glass shards in the blue carpet under her feet, and the sound of someone crying coming from the closet in front of her.
The rest of the world comes into focus. She doesn’t pay it any mind. This is what she’s here to do. This is her wife crying in that closet; this is who she’s here to save.
The glass doesn’t touch her feet. She crosses the hallway and has to stop herself from throwing the closet open, because nothing would be more terrifying to an abused child than someone bursting into their one and only hiding space. Still, it’s her wife in there, so she has to force herself to sound calm when she knocks twice and calls out, “Winter? It’s me.”
The crying stops abruptly. Cinder knocks again, just to be sure. “I’m going to come in. Okay?”
She doesn’t wait for an answer. They could be stopped at any moment. The more she waits, the more she becomes aware of other sounds: shouting from somewhere else in the mansion, more quiet crying, glass shattering. It’s not worth the risk. If the dream escalates, she’ll be thrown out, and Winter won’t —
Cinder throws open the door and stops short. Winter — barely six years old, curled up underneath a shelf — peers up at her, scrubbing her hands over her face, and something in Cinder’s chest jolts and sinks, sinks, sinks.
“Where’s Weiss?”
Winter flinches. Cinder realises how she must look and drops to her knees in front of her, pulling the door shut. The only light in the closet is a small Dust crystal in a jar. “I don’t know,” she says, “I don’t, um — I don’t know. Zayde took her.”
“He did, did he?” Cinder rocks back on her heels, giving Winter room to sit up properly. “Are they fighting again?”
Winter scrubs at her face again. “Yes. If Father sees me after he’s fought with Mother he gets angry, so. I’m hiding here.”
“Well, it’s a good hiding spot,” Cinder says, because if she tries to make her mouth form any other words she thinks she might burn the whole dream mansion down. “You’re okay, though? Physically.”
She nods shakily. And then she says, trembling hard, “You — you’re my Cinder.”
Relief at being recognised hits Cinder so hard that she nearly doubles over. She sinks to her knees in the closet and pulls Winter to her, crushing the two of them together. “G-d, yes, it’s me. I’m here. Come here.”
Winter makes a noise that sounds an awful lot like a sob. “I don’t know what’s happening. I’m not — Weiss isn’t —”
“She’s in the room next to ours. When you wake up, we’ll go bother her. Okay?”
“Okay. Okay.” She falters, breathing hard. “I want — I want to go home. Can we go home?”
Shade isn’t even remotely close to home for either of them, but it doesn’t matter, Cinder supposes. She kisses the top of Winter’s head and runs her fingers through her hair, steadying her breathing. “Yeah. We can go home. Do you know how?”
FILL: Team Anime/Manga
There are two things Cinder becomes aware of immediately when the world takes shape around her: glass shards in the blue carpet under her feet, and the sound of someone crying coming from the closet in front of her.
The rest of the world comes into focus. She doesn’t pay it any mind. This is what she’s here to do. This is her wife crying in that closet; this is who she’s here to save.
The glass doesn’t touch her feet. She crosses the hallway and has to stop herself from throwing the closet open, because nothing would be more terrifying to an abused child than someone bursting into their one and only hiding space. Still, it’s her wife in there, so she has to force herself to sound calm when she knocks twice and calls out, “Winter? It’s me.”
The crying stops abruptly. Cinder knocks again, just to be sure. “I’m going to come in. Okay?”
She doesn’t wait for an answer. They could be stopped at any moment. The more she waits, the more she becomes aware of other sounds: shouting from somewhere else in the mansion, more quiet crying, glass shattering. It’s not worth the risk. If the dream escalates, she’ll be thrown out, and Winter won’t —
Cinder throws open the door and stops short. Winter — barely six years old, curled up underneath a shelf — peers up at her, scrubbing her hands over her face, and something in Cinder’s chest jolts and sinks, sinks, sinks.
“Where’s Weiss?”
Winter flinches. Cinder realises how she must look and drops to her knees in front of her, pulling the door shut. The only light in the closet is a small Dust crystal in a jar. “I don’t know,” she says, “I don’t, um — I don’t know. Zayde took her.”
“He did, did he?” Cinder rocks back on her heels, giving Winter room to sit up properly. “Are they fighting again?”
Winter scrubs at her face again. “Yes. If Father sees me after he’s fought with Mother he gets angry, so. I’m hiding here.”
“Well, it’s a good hiding spot,” Cinder says, because if she tries to make her mouth form any other words she thinks she might burn the whole dream mansion down. “You’re okay, though? Physically.”
She nods shakily. And then she says, trembling hard, “You — you’re my Cinder.”
Relief at being recognised hits Cinder so hard that she nearly doubles over. She sinks to her knees in the closet and pulls Winter to her, crushing the two of them together. “G-d, yes, it’s me. I’m here. Come here.”
Winter makes a noise that sounds an awful lot like a sob. “I don’t know what’s happening. I’m not — Weiss isn’t —”
“She’s in the room next to ours. When you wake up, we’ll go bother her. Okay?”
“Okay. Okay.” She falters, breathing hard. “I want — I want to go home. Can we go home?”
Shade isn’t even remotely close to home for either of them, but it doesn’t matter, Cinder supposes. She kisses the top of Winter’s head and runs her fingers through her hair, steadying her breathing. “Yeah. We can go home. Do you know how?”
Winter shakes her head.
“That’s okay. I’ll help.”