The curse of the Luna in having compassion for her people, and my own gift of feeling her emotions out. Her pain bruises my heart and winds through my veins like a prickly cold icicle, aching, and hurting me deeply. Reminiscent of grieving my mom and my family and I reach out instinctively and touch her shoulder. Cursing myself inwardly for this insane compassion that grows in me the longer I lead our people. I swear at myself mentally for showing her softness.
“She’s lucky she has you. To care for her and bring her here. You did the right thing.” I soothe, moving into maternal mode of appeasing and gentle with my tone then bite my own tongue for being a weak assed b***h. I really disappoint myself sometimes. Who knew Luna gifts would be my nemesis when it came to this girl.
“I’m afraid.
