About a week after meeting Blackwell, you wake to a soft, yet somehow also all encompassing, quietness. All the muscles in your body are relaxed, and the sounds coming from your pack are slow and sleepy. Happy. Peaceful.
You close your eyes and sigh.
New moon. AKA the only night a month the moon shuts the fuck up.
You allow yourself to lie motionless for a few minutes, enjoying the tranquillity saturating the air.
Because, really, you never realise how loud the moon is... until it isn't.
Next
You stay in your room for God only knows how long. If you had to hazard a guess, you'd say it was probably too long. Way too long. It's easy to lose track of time and urgency during the new moon, almost as if everything has some weird Instragram filter on it, making the world seem sweeter, softer, and safer.
Eventually you do get up, change out of your pyjamas, and get dressed.
Only then do you start to wonder what you're going to do with the day.