Plot: Ieiri Shoko has watched all of her friends die, one by one, and stood there completely helpless, without even the privilege of any blood on her hands. What if she could change this? What if there was something, anything she could do, to bring them back? If only for a moment, whether in broken body or whole, if only to say goodbye? Disclaimer: I know there are some inaccuracies to the series. Do not come for me about those, I'm aware they exist, these are purposeful choices. Intend to update weekly (on Wednesdays!), I'll do my best <3
AO3 Link: Healing
My mother had always taken amusement in how I decapitated my dolls, little dictator, are you?, so I wonder whether the head in my lap would bring the same smile to her lips. Suguru’s hair once fell in a silky sheet, the lights dancing off its ebony surface in pearly sheens. Kenjaku did not care for his vessel the way its long dead owner did. The hair was dull, chopped at random ends, as though in acts of mindless vandalism, and I could not brush my fingers through it without catching in tangles. The heart monitors sneered with their steady flatlines, what, you think he will thank you for brushing your hair when you bring him back? You will bring back a decapitated head, once possessed? What if it is Kenjaku that returns?
“Then I will kill him myself. We mourned Suguru a long time ago, before he had even died. Then we mourned him again. I won’t mourn him a third time.”
Dead skin was more difficult to stitch back than living. The ends were stiff, sticking too well to the gloves’ latex, and my thighs began to ache from the head’s weight. “Suguru would hate these stitches. Satoru would wear them proudly, but Suguru would hate them… His bangs don’t cover the one on the forehead well enough, and he’s not a fan of high collars.” Cosmetics were secondary.
A cold wetness began to pool around my feet,...
Read the full thing on AO3 :) Link to the whole work at the beginning of the post, and link to the corresponding chapter in the last line!
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Plot: Ieiri Shoko has watched all of her friends die, one by one, and stood there completely helpless, without even the privilege of any blood on her hands. What if she could change this? What if there was something, anything she could do, to bring them back? If only for a moment, whether in broken body or whole, if only to say goodbye?
Disclaimer: I know there are some inaccuracies to the series. Do not come for me about those, I'm aware they exist, these are purposeful choices. Intend to update weekly (on Wednesdays!), I'll do my best <3
AO3 Link: Healing
Children’s stories describe mortuaries as dark, with a shadowy figure working in between pristinely rotting bodies, painting with blood splatters and cackling maniacally to the buzzing of a stray moth. Dim lights would be more merciful, for these blinding ones of pure white turned the coal black of body bags into diamonds, and still lingering warmth into ice.
The metal tray, tray, they were nothing more than fodder, creaked as it rolled out of the freezer box. Three bodies side by side, while the memory of one haunted the fourth. A fifth grave would have sat pretty, yet instead here I stand, in a mockingly pristine lab-coat, half hoping that if I wore no mask, their unseeing eyes would recognise my face and take comfort in it.
“What comfort? That after everything, you’re the one who survived?”
I answered my own questions, the sound of my voice disgustingly loud in the deathly silence. Three boy soldiers, battered and scarred, bruised and burned. A display for the medical textbooks, really, how many people do you see cleaved in half? How many do you see missing half their face? How many do you see twice dead, beheaded, with lobotomy stitches? I could practically hear my old professor’s voice; Look how the vertebrae is split at the lower thoracic segment, it’s such an unusual death, ha, it’s something you’d see in a horror movie! Ieiri-kun, you’re always so unfazed by all this, it’s so unusual for a girl your age!
I am not a girl anymore, Okamoto-san, and I never was.
“Why am I still alive, huh, Satoru? Aren’t you supposed to be the strongest one? You leave behind all these kids and this, revolution, as you’ve always called it. That would be enough for you to live, wouldn’t it? Live or die, because you did die. You’d be happy to die like this, knowing you left behind a legacy. Well, maybe you’re honourable… I’m not. That’s why I’m not dead. RCT, the hell was the point of it all, huh? Who am I healing?” I perch on the cold table as I used to on wooden classroom ones, waiting for a response to come from my own echoes.
“Why did I keep your body so long, Kento…?"
Read the full thing on AO3 :) Link in the last line and at the beginning of the post!
The flora had forgotten its roots. It crept in the sparse sunlight, mirroring fantastical colours it should have never known, decorating a porcelain shroud in its solitude. The divine had wrought desolation then lay in its ruins, but it mourned that it had forgotten love. Souls ripped from their now rotting shells could not comfort that which was hollow.
A crowning jewel of delicate blue lay in Viktor's aged hand, inscribed with a rune whispering promises of calamity and creation. Its surface gleamed with a glow that did not belong, then reflected the smile of one who had forsaken breath in favour of fate. Behind it lay a terrified boy's form, drowning in the callousness of nature, little boy, don't you know you cannot run?
A lonely god atop the mountain, whose tears could not fall. Would his sorrow not grip his hand in return? Why had he frozen it, too?
in all possibilities,
The wretched trenches of home loomed below, a precarious step away, prepared to cradle his body when it fell, to bury it in the kindest soil it knew. Viktor peered down into that inviting embrace and let his foot dangle, just once, just once he would fly, for he would have wings of starless dreams for every moment before his form struck the ground, and really, what did that matter? Death would numb it all, and what kinder colour to paint his carrion than Icarian?
"Am I interrupting?"
Three fateful words from lips that begun to turn to guilt and grief tugged back against the noose, untangling, to comfort torn feathers and sunken cheeks. Where Viktor had once sewn Jayce's wounds with threads of starlight, Jayce now wrapped Viktor's in plain gauze, in unspoken plea, please, partner, would you not go where I cannot follow?
A mortal cradled in warmth of company whose smiles could not hold. Would his joy not burn him in return? Why did it save him, too?
only you,
Flesh that did not feel was no longer human. Mocking some daemon of old, it enveloped fragile bones and scorched their emotion, watching their ashes scatter in a perfect pool of chaos, where fauna could only wrench apart into ichor and blood. The arcane, arcane, all that lay about Viktor was the Arcane. Arcane, clandestine, understood by sparse few and oft by none, a force man was not forged to reckon with, let alone have live in their bloodstream.
"The Herald."
"The Machine."
"Viktor."
Viktor's long corrupt hands reached desperately for the shattered fragments of that voice, you, you, will you not pull me from the sea's unyielding clutches as you once did? What remained of Jayce in a Promethean hellfire whispered to him still, as though sin did not bleed from his heart.
can show me this.
The vastness of night knew to be bejewelled only by the grace of stars, crystals of ecstasy not yet laughed and woes not yet wept. In every fleck of celestial dust there hid a life, begging to be strung together from intertwining red strings, afloat in the forgotten void.
Herald of the stars, how is it to rest amongst them, knowing you are no longer of them?
"I thought it would be lonely," You whispered, then glanced towards the one who invited you into merciful nothingness. The snow-ridden boy, grown, arm lustrated in that blue runestone, beckoning you, a golden smile radiating from his features, hazel eyes mirroring amber. You have stripped him of his worldly tomb, and he walks the heavens with you, unafraid, while you fear to tread heavy.
"Come on, Vik. I got you. You'll be okay. We both will. I promise."
