The silence was heavy all around them, and Melpomene pressed her face into the pillow. She had cried every day since Telos' birth, and since his loss she'd cried so long and so deep she felt she might turn herself inside out, but there were still tears within her. That well, perhaps, was bottomless. Fat tears soaked the pillow under her face but crying didn't give her the catharsis she needed. Every wound was still too open and raw.
Catharsis, no, but after the tide of tears rolled back, a deep sense of numbness stole in in its place. As time passed, and she felt her self and her strength fading, the tears didn't last as long, and the numbness arrived swifter, and set up camp for longer. It would last till another rogue wave of grief rose up and washed it all away, but it would be back, till it established so strong a foundation nothing could wash it away.
This was how people died from broken hearts. She'd seen it before.
Tears spent (for now) she curled a little harder toward Urania, her knees pressed against her sister's back, hand still in hers. It took several more moments before she spoke, stitching together more words than she'd spoken in - hours? days? - time had become irrelevant. "I won't be here much longer," she whispered, her voice as ragged as she was.