WHO Will Scarlet, Luna Olmos WHEN Saturday 16th WHERE Illunis WHAT Just… checking in WARNINGS We all know it
Sometimes, things happen in life that change your mind about other things. That’s what Will was finding, anyway. For one, he had been absolutely certain that he would never see Luna ever again, after she so callously discarded him. He had also been certain he would not ever lose to the Sheriff of Nottingham, and look how that worked out.
His leg still ached, the new skin pulling at times, but he was no longer infected, no longer at risk of sepsis and death. It had been close, though. Will had googled the symptoms once he’d gotten home. He had been very close to necrotic flesh eating his bones and never being able to piss ever again until he died in pain, ravaged with infection. Plus, there was the fact of his new appearance, his scrawny frame, and lack of definition. He wasn't the man he'd been before. Looking different made him feel different.
The other thing, of course, was Marian. Clever Marian, kind Marian, the sister he’d never had (except, he had had sisters, sometimes, and he’d adored them with all his heart, just the same as he did for her.) What the Sheriff could be doing to her now- he clenched his fists and gnashed his teeth and decided to go out. Again.
The first night he went to Illunis, it hadn’t been exactly on purpose to seek Luna out. He’d just wanted to hear of her, to see if she was alright, but he’d just got drunk and didn’t get anything. The second time, he chatted to the bartender, and finally gleaned confirmation that Luna was a regular here. After that… well, the atmosphere was good, even if he didn’t go for the goth look himself, but he wore black jeans and his favourite red jacket and enjoyed himself, nights on and off, until he could admit to himself that yes, he was looking to see Luna in the flesh, and he wouldn’t feel satisfied until he could see with his own eyes that she was whole and happy and safe. Plus, he'd kinda told Much he was doing this now, which meant he couldn't chicken out.
He wore a black band teeshirt that used to be tight across his broad shoulders, and now hung loose, but the jacket helped to disguise that. Sitting on a bar stool, he looked across the dance floor, nodding in time to the music. It was raining outside, washing away some of the dirty snow that still lingered, but it was impossible to hear it over the pounding thud of the metal that reverberated in his bones. Turning back to the bar, his gaze cast through the throng moving around the edge of the floor. And then, he saw her.
God, she was beautiful. God, he’d missed her. He stared at her, too off balance to pretend he was doing anything else. So there, she was whole, and alive. He should go. Seeing her ripped at that old wound, making him hurt all over again at her rejection, but he couldn’t go. Not yet.