Something’s not right about what I’m doing but I’m still doing it.
CAREFUL, CHRISTINE : i see fractures in the porcelain of your skin and i’m inclined to see only shadows beneath ; no smooth ivory, no hardened steel.
“ i see you’ve been doing some thinking. ” it only took one misbehaving woman to wreak absolute havoc, this much was true. but the void’s pawn had been taken out of play, her mind half - decayed, and her motives suddenly swayed . restlessness settled like ants at the tips of her fingers and in the soles of her feet, but there wasn’t anything for her to do. corruption was all that was left ; a single tactic remaining - to help the vessel see what her chaos truly looked like, without peering into a mirror. she sat with her back to the wall and a huge bouquet of roses embraced in her arms. she could smell the rotten perfume of the petals, though they still were lush with red ; death just below the surface.
the singer could pace the full width of the mirror and she would not see the vessel. charlotte only existed in the corner of her eye, gone in a blink / present with just a thought. a hand so pale and so thin that it might have just been candlelight reflected, waved over the faces of the roses, stroking the silky petals. “ that’s the first step to making sure everything goes to hell. ”
your room is in bloom, the envy of honest gardens everywhere. you wear the flowers in your hair, your skin imbued with their fragrance. but you are no gardener, are you, christine? i look closely and see no dirt beneath your fingernails, no scratches on your knees from where you would’ve knelt in the garden - bed. have you ever buried anything beneath the earth and the soil? DEAD THINGS LIKE ME HELP LOVELY THINGS LIKE YOU GROW. would you say that’s fair?
charlotte’s fingernails were broken, as per usual ; the keratin was jagged and it stuck out at strange angles : if she held up her hand with the fingers pressed together, she could imagine a mountain - line out of the awful condition of her nails. “ if you start to think, then you’ll have to stop. if you stop, then you’ll have to feel. and if you feel , then you’ll have to die . ” with a quick twist, charlotte wrenched one of the rose’s heads off. then, much more slowly, she enclosed it in her fist and became to squeeze. the petals folded easily and soon, she couldn’t tell what was flower and what was her own flesh. “ so don’t think too hard. like you said : but you’re still doing it. that’s the way. you gotta commit and dive in head first. that way, ” she paused, voice lifting to a cheery, playful pitch. the rose head had been squashed into a small mass, the sugar - water dripping down charlotte’s wrist. she held up the balled - up petals between her thumb and forefinger, then threw it at mild velocity at christine’s head. “ you won’t feel the pain of chaos’ teeth sinking into you! ” the agent of chaos threw her head back, golden hair drenched in the shadows, and cackled.
dead things like me should never be buried beneath gardens in the first place ; because dead things like me will only bloom deadlier things like what you will become . / @seraphids .
