#abyde

would  it  be  such  a  crime?     if  you  wanted  to.

❛    i  did  hear  about  you  often,     though.     you  came  across  my  thoughts  once  or  twice.    ❜

“ hey, asahi... ” she pauses as she moves to lay upon her back instead, eyes fluttering to meet @abyde who sits on the side of them. she's often daydreamed of the feeling, the flutter within her heart. her hand moves, finger tips just on top her breast where she could feel life. “ have you ever been in love before? ” her question is too direct, as if she asks something so simple. would you like honey in your tea? she feels her cheeks redden, warmth like whats contained beneath the table rising to the surface. she moves to cup her features instead. she yearns for the feeling, of something so true. do you think that it's real? even for those like us who live with no promise of tomorrows.

❛          no.     that  would  be  absurd.          ❜          cough.     your  hand  covers  the  lower  half  of  your  jaw.          ❛          i'm  not  a  fool,     it  would  be  a  death  sentence  if  we  fought.          ❜          a  creature  is  hungry  in  your  bones,     it  lives  inside  your  ribs     &     you  only  let  it  out  to  feast,     once  a  year:     it,     akin  to  a  rabid  dog.     [ . . . ]     your  eyes  are  pointed at @abyde,     painted  with  black     &     rings  of  purple.          ❛          if  you  want  to  take  it  as  a  threat,     be  my  guest–     it  would  make  sense     [cough]     with  a  brain  as  simple  as  yours  taking  it  that  way.          ❜

how could he ever think such absurd thoughts about her? what it must have taken her to get through not only the life before they met, but to here, where they are now. stein in his hand is discarded to the table, all attention focused on her. ‟ indigo --- ” he says her name as a sacred whisper between them, an urgency behind it to have her listen to what he has to say. ‟ why would you say that? don't put words in my mouth like that, i hate it. ”

a quiet day in the clinic: words she dare not speak into existence, lest they prove contradictory. it always becomes chaotic when you say it's quiet. kanae finds activity in organizing medical cabinets, sorting through needle boxes and wiping down spaces untouched for months. A SUDDEN RUSH OF ENERGY BESIDE HER, A FAMILIAR STATIC IN THE AIR, LIKE A CHARGED LIVEWIRE. the flower hashira knows it fondly to belong to none other than asahi, a sentiment that proves true when she turns around to peek at her new company. [ the other moves quick, as she always does. a kiss laid atop obsidian strands that has cheeks speckling pink, and then she's gone. ] kanae watches her spark trail with a wide eyes and pouted lips, an indignant huff through her nose. smiles wide despite the ache in her cheeks from fighting it. her hands ball into fists inside her pockets as she gives in and passes an endeared look to the wooden frame she'd passed through. ❝   ... hello to you, too.   ❞

there's blood running down her temples. a hard hit to the head, thrown into the treeline like a ragdoll, but kanae was equally as stubborn as asahi. HER HANDS ARE TIGHT WHERE THEY FIST AT THE COLLAR OF THE OTHER'S UNIFORM. trying to pull herself up and over the shoulder she's holding onto, trying to dig her feet into the dirt. [ there are still demons to be found and slayed: hidden in an underground cave network, popping up like some twisted version of whack-a-mole. ] she struggles on, against the growing mental fog and confusion: but she knows the lightning hashira is more than capable of taking care of the mission. the battleground grows smaller the farther away from it they get, and kanae grows more fatigued. she doesn't even realize she's stopped squirming. an indignant huff between verges of falling asleep. ❝   you can't just expect me to ... to leave you ... to leave you here alone. asahi. someone's got to help you.   ❞

❛          to  think  you  were  once  a  demon  slayer     ...     how  pathetic.     is  your  life  really  that  sad?          ❜          aculeate  notions  itself,     stitched     /     strewn  across  syllables     &     it's  like  needles:     a  bite  that  comes  from  teeth,     akin  to  jagged  rocks  that  cut  into  skin     -     mixing  blood  with  clear  water,     you  hold  contempt      ( in  your  chest,     where  hatred  is  born:     with  both  hands,     cradling  around  it )      &     you  welcome  it,     embrace  it     -     negativity  comes  easier,     in  your  veins     [ . . . ]     you  watch  @abyde,     careful  in  hues  of  blue:     no  emotion  on  your  face,     sans  a  twitched  brow.          ❛          ...     maybe  it  was  for  the  best  you  left  anyways—     we  wouldn't  want  someone  so  self  centered.          ❜