How long has it been?

Four days or two weeks?

Time seemed irrelevant now, not mattering as much as it did back when Robin attempted to wake up an hour early so that she could arrive to work on time. Motivation drained from her mind and she spent the ticking hours emitting long sighs and counting the small patterns from the ceiling.

Another dispirited sigh escaped her, pushing back the dark strands of hair away from her face, before shifting herself around the loveseat with the goal of finding another comfortable position to mope for the next few hours. After the 234th pattern, her hand blindly reached for the glass bottle filled halfway with deep red liquid and brought it to her lips. She drowned it like it was alcohol, which it was not from the blue glow enveloping her body momentarily before dissipating.

During the past few days, she found drinking health potions to be a fantastic way to momentarily heal her stubborn ailments, before it came crawling back like a thorny vine. Her complexion did not reflect how heart seemed to writhe in phantom pains, nor did it show signs of fatigue except the dimness of her dark eyes.

She took another gulp finishing off her 40th potion before the empty glass tumbled down on the plush carpet along with its brethren.

At the edge of the loveseat, the butler closed his eyes helplessly at his Master’s despondency, plaguing her for the past two weeks. He could not blame his own Master’s anguish from being suddenly ripped away from her own world, or so she explained. He recalled her trembling form as she if she saw a ghost and her near-hysterical cries. She had sat in the throne room crying with broken figments of wanting to return home and mumbled denials of their existence. Even now, she seemed to be long lost in her own little world.

“Master, pardon my intrusion but what do you plan on doing from now on?”

There was a slight pause before Robin turned her dim eyes to his golden ones. “I don’t know what to do, honestly,” she softly answered. Her voice was laced with tiredness, and her eyes gave off a dazed look.

Robin turned to her side to avoid Dorian silent gaze, her mind drifting back into her own world, away from what reality currently presented her.

Dorian, the head butler could only acknowledge his Master’s unresponsiveness and turned to open the curtains. The moonlight spilled into the room through the long-paned windows, and the stars painted the deep violet and blue galaxy.

She’s been sleeping more frequently this past week.

“The night is beautiful today too. Won’t you come take a look, Master?” Dorian gently asked the unresponsive body. His attempt to spur her into doing something, yet again.

Sensing that Robin paid no effort to move from the comfort of the loveseat, he continued, “It’s okay to grieve for yourself, however, you cannot always lament at your loss. Eventually, the time spent doing nothing is as detrimental as losing the one closest to you.”

Silence permeated the dark room with only the moon as its source of light. The small body had not moved from its initial position and Dorian could only lightly shake his head before heading towards the door.

Only did he leave, did the seat shifted with Robin fixing her composure. She looked languid, but her eyes were not as dim as before staring at the darkened skies.

“You’re right…” she weakly whispered. “I’ve been pathetic this whole time. My brother would have scolded me until the other side of the world heard him if I were back home.” She clenched her hands. “But I’m not.”

The moon glowed deathly pale, casting ominous shadows in the room. Compared to the moon back on Earth, this moon was twice as large and rendered it impossible for her not to look at it.

Robin recalled Dorian’s earlier statement. His words held a spoonful of truth; not wasting precious time moping around, but she found it so difficult to have any sort of motivation to carry on the day. Even waking up seemed like a chore, much less focusing on the exchange of conversation between her and Dorian. Her thoughts easily wandered and she spaced out quite frequently as though her mind seemed to be a bit unable to digest the reality of now.

“I’ll have to make another effort tomorrow,” she mumbled, before letting out another exhausting sigh.