Collapse | Levilia

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Tuesday, 14 November 1923
~ 2:50 am ~
Harewood House, Liliya's Bedroom



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Something soft welcomed her as she felt herself being lowered, disorienting and terrifying. Her hand was still clawed into the only anchor she had found, refusing to let go, white-knuckle-gripped. The only thing tethering her to reality, the only connection. Without it, she feared she was lost.

But she was pried away, finger by finger, tossed back into eternity, alone. Weak sobs grew more frantic, almost panicked, but the last of her energy finally dwindled and died after mere moments of fighting to hold on, and slowly, Liliya grew quiet.

Blackness and silence.

It was dark when her eyes opened. Quiet and still, wrapped in the kind of peacefulness only the dead of night could offer. Soothing.

Slow, lethargic. Something was pulling at the back of her mind, trying to drag her back under the surface, every limb heavy as stone. Liliya stayed conscious only long enough to trace the room’s outlines. The chair to her right turned to face her. Moonlight that fell through the tall window beyond, softening the darkness. Voices. Drifting over from somewhere farther, too soft to rise above a murmur and too low to distinguish.

She floated, unaware of anything. Things existed, and she did too, and everything just was. Only for a fleeting moment did something brush against the remnants of her conscious mind.

Hollowness, blue as the ocean.

Before she could understand, oblivion had already reclaimed her. Gentle nothingness engulfed her as she sank away.

"You should have known."

"It's not the time, Danika."

"Maybe not, but you should have."

"Just...tell me what she needs."

His sister sighed, nodding as she moved back into Liliya's bathroom, fetching a fresh cloth and running it under the sink. "There isn't much you can do, Lev. Cold cloths help, but her mind has to heal itself. You know that too." Back into the room, pausing at the side of Liliya's bed as she pressed the damp rag to their cousin's head. Lev watched quietly.

He knew. She knew. Everyone in the family knew it was a matter of time and wills, if Liliya would recover from the torture her aunt had put her under. Having not moved from the chair beside her bed, Lev dropped his head into his hands, gripping at his short hair. He could feel his sister's eyes on him as he grappled with himself and the thoughts that rushed through his mind, none of them making any sense.

For a moment, her eyes fluttered a soft movement as Danika murmured something, and Lev lifted his head again, watching as Liliya slipped in and right back out of consciousness in the same moment. She'd do this all night and into the next day. Having witnessed it enough times, it was never an easy recovery, much less swift.

"You could try talking to her. It might help to pull her out of the pain at least."

Lev's eyes drifted back to his sister, but he remained stoic, choosing to say nothing.