“There’s a young man called Kaden coming around,” Peitho had said as she slipped out of her robe and walked across the apartment, heading towards the main bathroom. “If I’m still in the bath, keep him entertained.”
So while Peitho took her long bath, Luna hung the goddess’s discarded robe up and then went to change into something that had sleeves. Her arms were no longer looking injured and awful, but the long pink scars that ran down them and cut a straight line through her tattoos drew far too much attention. Through sheer and patterned sleeves the tattoo break almost looked like an aesthetic choice, if it was even noticed at all.
The woman in the mirror in front of her looked tired though. Or maybe she looked fine, and Luna just knew how tired she was. When was the last full week of her life she’d slept through without bad dreams or insomnia knocking at it? Had it been before Colorado? Every time she thought she was moving on with her life from something, another horrible event appeared to knock her down.
It was exhausting, but it was so hard to sleep when every time you closed your eyes you saw the dying eyes of another human being, saw the knife in your own hand. She felt like the act had separated her from the rest of humanity. She had already felt separate, but before it had been in a superior and arrogant way - the gods had chosen her. She was special.
But having killed a man? No, now she was apart from them in a much worse way. How was it fair to have such equally bad nightmares about what he did to her, as what she did to him? Luna couldn’t stop thinking of damn Lady Macbeth and her unclean hands.
She’d been caught in those thoughts of all great Neptune’s oceans when she heard the door and remembered what she was supposed to be doing. She ran a red lipstick across her lips and then went to answer the door.
There she was surprised to find a man much younger than expected on the other side. In fact, it wasn’t a man at all, but a teenage boy. “Can I help you?” she asked.