#offline::chi

His eyes remind her of an old dog's.

Patiently waiting for the end to come. For the moment he could unite with his human companion once more. And thus he waits amidst the things his companion once loved, making sure no harm would come to them.

Whoever he lost must have loved the green. The flowers, trees and budding seeds.

However time is cruel. Slow when you want it fast. Fast when you want it slow.

But time is also kind.

It is a people saying. Time heals all wounds.

Not perfectly. Not painlessly. But every day the cracks fill together, making a new vessel from that which was broken.

Sometimes people do not want to heal though.

But she does not think he is in danger of that.

He tries. And his friends - the blue one especially - try too.

His friends will not leave him to have a pining dog's death.

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A wild rose.

Loud and vibrant - a flower people openly admire for its tenacity just as much as its beauty.

Yet only a few would allow such a flower in their garden. Too scared. Afraid that the very same tenacity they admired it for would overwhelm the rest- that it would strangle the rest of their delicate greenhouse flowers.

Siege reminds her of one - a wild rose, not the greenhouse flowers. Admired for saying things as they are and doing things no one would dare to. He likes what he likes and hates what he hates. An untamed flower that would grow the way it wants to, no matter what sort of soil or conditions there are.

That wildness is why some people keep him at a distance. Claim it is because of his thorns. But she thinks they are just afraid they would look -not genuine- in comparison.

--

In any case, she does not need to worry about that.

Because they are origami friends.

Several months ago?:

In the shed containing the Shrine to Lost Things, Chi observes the oval vessel in her palm. The object is speckled at first glance, white the next, and occassionally settles on a solid brown color, only for the process to repeat again. It is small, medium, and large all at once, their blurry outlines stacking on top of one another. As if she were carrying something not quite defined.

Like she was carrying the Idea of an egg rather than the egg itself.

She could sense her friend's affection from it - a bit of confusion too, but mostly affection.

She had initially wanted to eat an egg, but now she changed her mind.

It would be sad to waste the sincere affection from her friend. And she is not a Lilium who can only look forward to its next offering... though they are getting better about that.

Smarter. More curious. Good things. Important thin-

The vessel finally settles on a light bread color, barely the size of half her palm. What is now contained within whispers aspirations of "bigness, tallness, to not get bullied by anyone, to not get eaten by anyone."

It is like her sister in a way, though she is sure Lev would not be very happy being compared to egg.

She will figure out how to make egg warm without cooking it. And then when it finally becomes the bird it wants to be...

Send me a “💭“ and your Muse will experience one of my Muse’s Memories

- she did not know why the dragon came to her house, draped in their deep blues and purples and smelling like old books and brimstone. All she was doing today was building a chair - a good sturdy chair to put near the fireplace. 

However the dragon did not seem to care for it. Instead their gray-eyed gaze scanned the room for others before locking directly onto her. Their human face contorts in fury, curled horns bristling in anger. 

"You. What do you think you're doing?!" 

Her hammering halts at the odd question, and she looked away from the dragon and to the wooden planks before her. However, her change in gaze only served to make the dragon snap and bare their teeth, as if taking some meaning from her act - what meaning she did not know. 

It would not be the first time Llfyr got mad for no reason. 

She felt the answer to their question obvious though. However there were many things she thought were obvious, but no one else understood. This was likely one of those times. 

Under Llfyr’s steel-eyed gaze, she lifted herself from her seated position. Afterwards she bent her knees ninety degrees while keeping her arms stretched forward - to sit without a seat. 

“I...what?” Their jaw slackens slightly, and their eyebrow twitches. She simply continued to keep that pose, giving the dragon more time to understand. Several seconds pass before they shake their head vigorously and speak in a sharp tone. "No. You fool. That's not what I'm asking about."

Oh.

Straightening out her legs, she then tilted her head in inquiry. The dragon bristles on the spot. 

"You know what I'm talking about!" they say heatedly, grey eyes glaring in scrutiny.

She does not understand, hence she simply stared.  

"That thing from Outside!” the dragon growled out. They then waved their arm in a wild arc. “I thought you destroyed it! Did you really think you could hide the fact that you didn’t forever?” Their tone sounded wounded - pained - which she did not get why. But it didn’t matter because in the end they sounded hurt.  

She patted their outstretched arm in concern. The contact however made the dragon immediately draw back, but their anger momentarily was replaced by surprise and then...something else. 

They stare right at her, eyebrows furrowed, as if trying to find something - what they were looking for, she wasn’t sure. But before long, they averted their gaze and clicked their tongue. When they finally speak again, it’s softer, quieter, and tired - but most importantly without pain, which is good.  

“Tch. It’s my mistake. I expected too much from your intelligence,” they said with a shake of their head, “You really should’ve destroyed it back then. I guess it’s too late now.”

Her lips move into the shape of an O. She realizes now. The Something. The Something that was Bright like Light. 

She shook her head to Llfyr’s statement. They pause. 

“...Wait. Are you shaking your head because you should’ve destroyed it or because you could still destroy it?” the dragon said carefully.  

She shook and nodded her head in quick succession. The dragon’s face immediately distorts at her reply.

“Then why haven’t you?! What possible reason could you have to keep that ticking time bomb around?” they nearly all but scream, hands outstretched as if wanting to grab her but stopping midway. She stared unflinchingly back. 

It did not matter what Llfyr wanted her to do. 

The Something is not hers to get rid of. 

She cannot bear to get rid of it.

She will not get rid of it. 

“If that thing gets loose, it’s going to kill ever-,” Llfyr exclaimed, “...Wait. It’s because of her, isn’t it?” They pause briefly as they spot the other bed in her room, eyes shining as if realizing something, “You...Just because she brought it in with her -” They pause briefly before they started to mutter to themselves, no longer paying attention to her.

Llyfr does that a lot.  

It takes a couple of seconds for the dragon to meet her gaze again. 

“Damn it. That doggishness of yours is going to get you and everyone else killed,” the dragon complained, “And more importantly, me.”

It is raining outside, a continuous patter filling the air. The sudden shower surprises many, people outside scrambling for shelter. 

Meanwhile she is Home and lying near the fireplace, her most favorite spot. It is made even better because all the rain is out there and she is here. She is dry and comfortable and warm. Home was warm in many many ways; even when the heating broke sometimes, Home would remain warm. 

Her older sister is making dinner in an hour; it is hamburger. Yesterday, her eldest sister made noodles. It did not matter what they made because everything was delicious. And more importantly, no one left the table hungry. 

Once dinner was done, they would all play a game or sit on the old couch and watch television together. After a bit, her sisters would talk about their day; usually, it was about fighting. Other times, about food, sometimes school. And eventually they would ask how her own day went. 

And she would always sign what she always did. 

Happy and content. Today was a fun day.

The evening would almost always end with a group hug from her eldest sister - and her older sister complaining about it. But she knew her older sister was happy too. And then it would be time for bed, but that was okay because a new day was waiting for her. 

Like stale ramen. Mom hums upstairs from the room above. Her hands gently weave a dark thin plate into the body of a suit. She’s been doing that a lot as of late. She followed a suit once. It saved its owner from a knife stab. Mom must be a hero. 

-

Like ash and wind. She shines like a Crown worn over one’s head. White hair, green once upon a time, ignites into fire. A moment where Dream nor Kingdom no longer matter - just existing. It passes. A burning blade, larger than its wielder, cuts down her attacker. A broken Dream returns to the Dark. 

-

Like ocean water. A funeral. One of many since the World was attacked. A son and daughter mourn with others inside a cross-roofed building. Crying. Screaming. Raging. Cursing. A man sits on the long chairs, smil- 

-

Like a downy pillow but slept on for too long. An orange-haired man in a blue suit speaks to a blond man wearing a silver cross. A laugh but not funny, just angry. “How could you still act holier-than-thou when asking for reconciliation? When you continue to lie to the humans? How many of them know that their promised reward no longer exists since that Day? How many know that you and the rest of your cohort are just the same as m-”

-

Like old paper and spring water. A building, brown and not impressive. Bigger on the inside. Shining with magic that whispers safety and haven. Gaze deeper. Books, old and new and real and fake, in many piles. A blue-haired scaled man with dark curly horns hurriedly throws a book into his big pile before pausing. Mad. He stares back. “Whoever you are - Stop doing tha-”

-

Like freshly fallen snow. Like bitter coffee beans. Like something real. Like something fake. 

It smells like something from the Outside.

A small snowman with a navy hat carries a package. It reminds her of a chew toy she saw once long ago. But as of recent? days, it reminds her of a picture she saw on the tablet. It speaks “Hee ho” but she does not understand - maybe because it comes from Outside. 

The snowman stares at a small, quiet dark-haired child. The child is slumped sideways on the floor and stares blankly at a sky blue wall close by.  

The child is Still. Unmoving. Vacant. Empty. Were it not for the faint rise of her chest, she might’ve thought her to be Dead.  

...That child is her.

The blues dulled from years of living fill her vision, the wall’s faint scars coming into sharp focus. The faint scent of snow and coffee are long gone, replaced by the familiar smell of earth, cooking oil, and greenery - Home. The world becomes upright as she sits up from the floor before turning t-

-

A scream. But from far away. Too far. Lost child running away but not fast enough. He crumples crying after a man strikes him in the stomach. A witness howls from underneath a dumpster, and the man sti-

-

-o look at the parcel behind her. She carefully takes out the book first, tomatoes on the cover, before putting it down. She recognizes its purpose and appreciates it. She will give it to her sister later, so they can cook together. Instead, she directs her attention to something filled with less words. 

The sweater feels nice between her fingers. Slightly itchy at first but the feeling passes. Replaced by warmth. Comfort. It feels like how affection does. 

It’s the dancing lights that caught her attention though, many and dazzling and forming many shapes. Each one different from the last. A snowman. A pine tree. A snowflake. Constantly flashing like twinkling stars across a night sky. 

She watches the colors and lights as they flicker and move across the sweater. Unceasingly. Beautifully. With the charm of something willingly given. Nothing like the things too far away or too confusing to understand. 

She observes the sweater quietly, uninterrupted.