A Rip. A Tear. A scratch. A snag. Be it paper, cloth, wood, or skin. The hypodermic needles on the tips of the fingers were dangerous. It took a day to learn how to manipulate the additional muscles in the hands and fingers to extend and retract the claws. It took three more days of effort to keep the claws retracted. When the hands were relaxed, only the sharp tips were visible through the skin. Even still, they continued to cause problems, snagging or scratching anything delicate. A new habit formed, only using the pads of the fingers to do anything, unless the task required something sharp. This resulted in an awkwardness in the hands, as the fingers were stiff straight when in use. People don’t realize, when they do something with their hands, like scratch an itch, their fingers naturally curl. To prevent any accidents, one must always be mindful of their claws.
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Rina was hopeless. Not that she would admit that. She could just be friends with him. After all, she could be mature about this. Sure, he was still one of the prettiest people she’d ever seen, and sure, she might still feel a bit… gooey around him, but she could be platonic. She could. Really.
Okay, maybe she wasn’t exactly perfectly platonic. Maybe she still just wanted to be over him since it was fairly clear that he had never noticed her. There were only so many days you could spend staring at a boy and sighing before one got a bit bored. Or maybe not bored, but more embarrassed.Â
Especially after two years in a row humiliating herself in blotcher in an attempt to impress him. She had never been the strongest in sports, but she’d outdone herself. The first year, she’d managed to trip and twist her ankle horribly early on in the game. Sure, Torrio had helped her limp off the field (yay!), but she’d been put on strict order to not walk unassisted for the next week (boo). She’d followed that experience the following year with managing to somehow slip on a rotten tomato and knock herself unconscious. She’d come around to Torrio and half the other players crowded around her, peering down at her. When they noticed she was awake, Rina was bombarded by questions. Was she okay, how was her head, how many fingers, could she move her fingers and toes, how did she feel—
Needless to say, she’d spent the next week working indoors and sleeping. If she was honest… the next time she’d seen Torrio, she hadn’t felt quite the same thrill as before. Now it was subdued and she wasn’t desperate to kiss him or anything. Now, she genuinely could just hang with him the grazing grounds and just be normal.
I decided to do a bit of exploration of my character for an upcoming DnD game. No, she is not fully over him. But she's not in the fullblown obsessive crush stage now.
Written for the #30dhs2k25 on Gaia Online! | 341/100
A soul born from fate and fire, Diluc stands on the hill that overlooks the vineyard of Dawn Winery.
His silhouette flickers like an ember heralding in the light of dawn.
When the night stars dim, the morning larks sing in their sweet melodies, a flock of shadows pass over the fields and across his heart.
He takes four long strides to the left and passes by a trellis of blooms. Trees surround the orchard, providing shade and the rustling ambiance of peace. The wind stirs the wild grass nearby, bowing in waves as if to acknowledge the young master.
When Diluc enters the orchard, the fragrant gardenias greet him while the lavender bow to him, just a month too early to bloom for him.
Diluc pauses in front of the budding asters and reaches out to touch one.
Slowly, the bud stirs. Then unfurls. Demure in movement and posture, it seems to flourish under his kind gaze.
But once, long ago—he thinks, watching the flower sway—the fire that burst from under his fingertips were untamed and harsh. But now, the fire that fans from his palm blazes with control and purpose.
“Perhaps summer is the season of smiles.”
Whether it blooms in response to his vision or the warm sunshine, he does not know. But the warmth that spreads from his chest to his fingers is enough reason for the corners of his mouth to upturn.
“If so, then I enjoy seeing you smile,” Lumine says. “It’s very calming.”
His eyes search the orchard for the face that voice belongs to too. In the center of the grove is a white metal table with two matching chairs.
Ah. How could the young master of Dawn Winery keep an illustrious guest waiting?
“Forgive me, Lumine. It seems the morning sun rose without me. I apologize for my lateness.”
Lumine’s smile softens when their eyes meet. She gestures for him to join her.
“No, no. You’re on time. I would have arrived late if Adelinde didn’t show me the way!”
People don’t know how hard it is to move on. They think that its a straight road that gets better with every mile, but they don’t know the path progressively gets steeper before it gets better. Imagine how would it feel just waking up one day knowing you won’t ever be able to talk to the person you thought you’d build your future around. To be precise, It’s like a cycle. You fell in love. You started to hope that your person would want you with the same excitement and passion as you. You started believing that being in love is the best thing ever, that everything will workout and that they are different. You started believing that this time It won’t be a temporary infatuation. And when everything does seem to be going well, you start to Pray that the two of you make it till the end, for it is the only way you’ll survive. Then one day, everything falls apart. Every bittersweet memory of your person starts to haunt you. You stop going to the places that made you feel home. You start asking yourself questions that why was the thing I held most dear, tore me apart in major ways? Why is it that no matter which turn I take, it never seems to be the right decision? Why have my anxieties completely taken their toll on me, and why does this depression never seems to fade away? Is this all there’s left of me? Will I ever be happy? That's when you realize that being in love maybe a good thing, but it never was the best thing ever. There are things above it, and there are things below it.. You start praying, again, that you find eternal peace whether it be in your isolation. You start praying that you get security whether it be in your loneliness. After weeks, months and even years of misery you start believing that these dark clouds will lift. I’m the one who put them there. So I have to be the one who has to let it rain all over myself, let it hurt until it will no more.. And one day the sun does shine right beside your window. its rays do somehow come to your room. That's when you start hoping again that you will survive, because after all this time you have survived. You assure yourself that now that I’ve found comfort and reliability in my solitude, its the most noble feeling ever. I can survive the most violent of storms alone, I can get struck by a bolt of lightning and still stand still, because I’ve been through worse, and here I am still breathing..
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