┃ ♔ ┃ ;

                                                  ❝  o -- oh !   ❞

surprise gets the best of her, & unexpectedness possesses her expression entirely. some cogs are shifting in her head : rationality, bewilderment, general confusion.              what a strange cake.           so, gloved fingers are folded gently against her skirt as she offers a slight lean toward the ‘ pastry ’ in lord kamui’s hands.

                  ❝  my, lord kamui, i didn’t know you could --  .  .  .  bake  .  .  .  ?   ❞

                                                  ❝  oh, sharena .   ❞

she passes words with a fleeting giggle, something airy, breathy, yet quick to evaporate into an aimless thought.

        ❝  you always seem so  .  .  .  alive. like you’re brimming with the lives of everyone around you.  ❞

like she’s dancing hand - in - hand with all, both willing & unwilling, because they all feel the pull of her gravity. despite the sheltered, closed - off parts of her, sharena breaks through the barricades & allows herself entrance. she has a warmth that makes her special; in a way, irresistible. something about her friendly atmosphere makes celica feel nostalgic -- gives her some sentiment of back home in the priory. maybe she reminds her too much of mae. they’d get along so well, she thinks  .  .  .  but, for now, she smiles effortlessly aside her. the air is lighter, bouncy, & free. it’s refreshing, & almost astounding that the hidden princess’s usual exhaustion has yet to unfold against her will.

                                                   ❝  well, it’s like  .  .  .   ❞

a brief intermission of words.

                 ❝  i’ve spent all this time fantasizing about what it would be like once the war was over, but     now that fantasy is reality and  .  .  .    ❞

& now this life has daydreamed to fruition -- there is no more alternate world to throw herself into, no more glorifying the nonexistent future in efforts to escape the present. she’s choiceless in the matter of the world around her & unsure of how it sits emptily beneath her rib cage. there’s something so rewarding about the achievements, yet something so dull & aching, & she can’t put her finger on what. perhaps it’s that it’s over. what she’s supplied all of her hope & being into has been ripped from her, completed, & oh, how she falls like a dove with feathers that have been ripped from its wings. there’s them, though. & they all seem so joyful, so full of glee & newfound hope. she’s envious in a way, but not bitter. she’s happy for them -- she just wishes she could be one of them.

                                 ❝  i --     i think i’m just a bit lost in thought is all.   ❞

✩ ˖ ˚ . @dicyde .

expression is hollow, completely devoid of any emotion that might yearn to be sung. lips unmoving, eyes distant, as if staring into some godless land of abandoned future. shoulders fall limp at her sides & her fingers are parted downwards in a lacking attempt to fit the mold that she so desperately wishes to reform herself to. nothing matters now. no appearance, no leadership, no peace - wishing will or hope for a better future. it’s the first time since the battles have begun. bloodshed, war, fighting – they say it’s inevitable & she fought the notion with mind, body, soul, for the fear that one day she would lose someone. she’s already lost so many someones. to have this stain of guilt burden her fingers  .  .  .  she always knew it would happen, but never so soon, & never so brutal. 

melancholic loneliness fills the atmosphere & kamui empathizes so greatly, it’s like the feel the same nothingness. guilt is like the tip of a steel sword, prodding at her flesh, aching and sharp, while sorrow is like the far - off screams of fallen enemies. it’s selfish, after all, to believe in winning every battle. every battle she never wanted to battle, every fight she never wanted to fight, every soldier she never wanted to lead. how did she get here ? & why does mila torture her so ? a foolish thought. she shouldn’t have thought it. after all, this journey to save her mother should not be the same one to plant doubts in her mind, so she must rip them up before seedlings bloom & they begin to live & begin to spread. 

palms still drip with sweat & voice is quiet, barely audible, monotone, with some out - of - reach hatred buried deep within her words.

                                   ❝  what i did  .  .  .  was not enough.  ❞

✩ ˖ ˚ . @zioneal .

some sort of storm envelops her veins, & beneath her flesh, her fingers twist, aching. with every flash of lightning that strikes, she twitches slightly in the grip against the silk white that falls from her hips. the wind carries the ends of her skirt with a hidden rage masked with something of beauty – a purple sky that looms so closely, yet so far away. thoughts don’t race, no, they halt at some strange standstill. all words elude her as her hands move up to caress bare arms, swollen goosebumps unpacking themselves like they’ve made a return to in which they’ve lived there for years.

the thunder shakes the awning that shields them from despair’s touch – they cannot feel the rain, but they are plagued with some motionless nothingness. tainted with only the idea of what it means to dance to a tune of victory, to celebrate the death’s of fallen foes.

they stand with knees weak, bruised limbs, & shaking hands. the guilt is far too much to bear – the act of ripping soul from body   & to find pride in that ? her stomach would churn at the very thought of it. seliph, the boy who stands next to her in some soaked cloth, blood - stained & battered, closes his eyes for a brief moment before he speaks. he speaks something of bravery, something of the late night thoughts that would tear one’s heart & rip their rib cage open from the bitter inside. an act of pain, anguish, agony. she understands. none of them slept well – at least, no one heartless enough to not give a damn. 

some stuttered sigh breaches her lips as she searches for lost words in the echoing valleys of heart’s travels.

                                                    ❝  bravery  .  .  .  it’s  –  ❞

there’s a pause before boundaries are crossed, before emotions bleed from her like the crimson on the tattered capes of warriors.

                                       ❝  i know  .  .  .  exactly      what you mean  .  .  .  ❞