beep boop

“It’s not a painting, but… I could take a picture of you two, if you want?” She pulls something rectangular out of her skirt’s pocket. “With my phone.”

Yuiman is always pretty. Sometimes she’s cute, a snake hidden under her blanket, curled up to the hearth. Sometimes she’s graceful, one with the forest, all raw strength condensed in the tip of her arrow. Sometimes she’s ravishing, blood on her hand and another in Ariya’s, teaching her there’s also value in what doesn’t last, leading her where she wouldn’t have stepped foot otherwise. But like this—skin damp and flushed, back arched, so full of life—she’s gorgeous.

The princess grins. “You’re like a good luck charm, lady Iwanaga.”

“I lost it when they sealed me,” Ariya continues. “You were already asleep then.” Asleep. Ariya never uses another word for it; not a factual brainwashed, nor a romantic captive, or a mournful gone. Asleep. Yuiman isn’t sure how that makes her feel. Is she supposed to wake up at some point?

She could seal this moment in stone, if she wanted to. Reject its right to pass and to transform. She could preserve its image forever and spend her very, very long existence gazing at it like a treasure. But that would amount to killing it, and Yuiman, and everything alive inside her.