#maybe sleepover at Foxy's with FC

[wordy-little-witch]

So like. I have my ongoing first (yayy) but smth that is just. Clinging in my brain, making me think and loop and vibrate is that like.

Earth, Sun and Solar have been through the absolute ringer lately. And Earth just recently had to cope with the complicated loss of a brother while trying to help her other brother and whatever-association-Solar-has. Now Lunar has gone down that same path of destruction that led to Nexus's death.

I really don’t think it's that much of a stretch to say she'd probably have a panic attack over it before going fucking frigid.

Because Sun has to kill Nexus.

And while she is more than aware that there are things in the past that have happened that she is not privy to, I don't doubt for a moment that she has been able to at least piece together some things. She's not a licensed therapist, and there are many things she doesn't handle properly in that regard, but I really love the idea of her actively making efforts to improve her methods and knowledge.

So she has been attacked by Lunar (truly attacked, not just insulted, not just threatened). She knows Sun is Not Well Right Now. She knows he hasn't been truly well in a very, very long time - if ever. She knows that Nexus's death has damn near broken him in a ways she doesn't know if she can fix.

But she knows her brother. She knows he hates being kept in the dark, hates being coddled and lied to, treated as weak or ineffectual. She has to tell them, has to warn them, just in case-

And honestly? She also just really wants her brother.

She's still angry at Moon - (Sun's vacant stare, oil slicked face, broken voice as he begged for a brother that wasn't there, nearly catatonic but for his heartbreak, and Earth is a pacifist, is a lover, not a fighter, but she wants to hit someone, wants to scream and rage, wants to tear the foundations from the very ground itself, so instead she wraps her arms around her big brother and they cry together) - she's still furious but there is no space for that now.

Yes, Moon has made an effort and she tells herself that it is good, that it is growth, but the terror in her heart at the thought of what it took to get there, what could have happened, what she suspected WOULD have happened if not for the precious timing, burns. She's making an active effort to be kind, because it is her choice to do so, her own decision and desire, but she can feel the cracks ((ones she wonders if Sun has learned to live with, ones she seethes at the idea of)).

She is hurt and scared and she wants Sun, she wants Solar, and she wants Monty - so Moon gets a tentative allowance.

She is hurt and scared and she's fucking terrified because this damage in her is bad enough, but it may completely shatter Sun, already so raw and brittle. There is no winning, no good choice, only a lesser of evils, and Earth wants to protect him but she can't. Not from this. Not from Lunar.

She's so tired of looking for protection from a brother, it hurts and it burns and she wants to lay down, wants to cry, wants to scream and sleep, but there is no time to do that because if she stops, that's it, that's the end, and she fears if she pauses for even a moment that she may do something poorly advised.

Usually her hugs are big, warm, enveloping and comforting - she acts as a wall between the world and her ward for however long is needed. She had planned for it. Sunny needed support, and she was going to give it to him, but the moment he opened the door and she met his gaze, something within her snapped.

Her optics clouded and a pathetic sound screeched from her voicebox, and somehow she went from in the doorway to being pushed down onto the couch. Warm hands, so gentle, so painfully sweet despite the horrors they have held, cup her cheeks and thumb away tears and she clings, trying to calm her breathing until he hoarsely asks her, "what's going on, Earth?"

And she falls into pieces, lunging to cling, her fingers tangling in his ruffled skirt, face buried into his shirt, as she wails. She hates herself for it. Sunny just holds her tightly, rocking gently. Even burnt out beyond measure, he pours from an empty cup and she sobs all the harder for it.

It takes time to get the words out, and she finds her syntax trees stuttering under the force of her emotions. Solar comes in at some point, joining them and coaching her through breathing exercises, grounding techniques, and she cannot find the words until Moon - she ignores how her grip tights almost painfully, distantly grateful that it is fabric in her fingers instead of metal, because she suspects she may have dented it at best - offers to hook the display port.

And the image she practically throws through the connective port casts a horrible silence across the room, the entire house, damn near the whole world. It is her desperate grip on Sun that keeps him from falling as his knees buckle, ivory optics wide and unseeing. She pulls him closer, coiling around him, offering and seeking comfort in equal, bitter measure.

Moon swears, and she can only barely pay attention to anything beyond the whirlwind in her chassis, hair sparking with static, until she hears those words. "Go" and "lab" and "be back later"

And she chokes on a wail.

"Don't go," she begs, holding Sun closer, even as numb gold-and-gunmetal hands try to press into her own arms and shoulders, clumsy and trembling, but she turns to the smudge of blue, voicebox burning with the force of her broken sounds, "don't go-"

"I won't be long" is the response she gets, not the one she needs, not the one Sun needs, but it is given casually, distractedly. "I need to find him."

After that, there is a blur, a cacophony of sound before a familiar baby blue shirt is pressed against her face and she shrieks with the force of her wailing as Solar holds her and Sun together, two broken beings held in place by bloodorange and ochre, a low timbre that she can't understand past the force of her servos and fans working desperately to keep her conscious.

Between one breath and the next, green and violet slips into her side, and someone tries to pull Sun from her arms, earning a rare growl from the habitually placid woman before she and her brother are simply enfolded between two bodies, tethered in this riotous typhoon of grief and terror and panic and sorrow.

Earth cries in Monty and Solar's arms, clutching her brother to her chest, and thinks to herself that they will never fully heal from this.