𝙄𝙉𝘾𝙍𝙀𝘿𝙄𝘽𝙇𝙀 / 𝙁𝙐𝙍𝙔

SMALL   CREATURE,   NOT   OF   THE   FOREST   BUT   OF   THE   DARK   ––   delicate,   made   of   bones   like   glass   and   glass   like   bones.      she   reminds   her   of   the   charms   the   village   folk   would   hang   above   their   doors,   swaying   in   a   winter’s   breeze   /   singing   an   ominous   tune   of   the   storm   to   come.      anna   observers   her   curiously,   frost-ravaged   lips   drawn   tight   and   black   glittering   peculiarly   with   the   reflections   of   death’s   moon   /   night’s   stars.

a   greeting,   as   if   between   friends.      (   but   carnivorous   animals   so   rarely   seek   the   comfort   of   one   another.   )      the   top   of   the   food   chain   is   a   lonely   precipice   upon   which   to   sit,   and   yet   it   is   important   to   remember   that   chains   are   infinite   ––   they   can   always   be   made   longer.      there   can   be   no   single   hunter   that   sits   upon   its   peak,   for   another   always   lurks   beyond   the   trees,   waiting   to   devour   and   to   become.      (   EAT   OR   BE   EATEN,   and   this   one   appears   ready   for   the   slaughter.   )

❛   what   you   want?   ❜      she   asks   tersely,   long   arms   taking   root   across   her   chest.      anna   lowers   her   head   ––   only   just   ––   and   lets   it   cant   gently   to   the   side.      little   one      …      still,   her   fingers   know   the   way   to   the   hatchet   at   her   side   well   ––   a   weather-beaten   path   ready   to   be   traversed   at   the   first   indication   of   danger.      ❛   you   are   what?   ❜

the  woman’s  words  are   harsh,  in  a  language  rin  would  not  have  understood,  she’s  sure,  were  it  not  for  the  misty  fog  that  weaves  around  them,  making  so  many  strange  things  possible  in  this  stranger  place.  rin’s  blue  corpsegirl  fingers  curl  and  uncurl,  weakly,  with  the  sound  of dry  and  cracking  tree  branches. ( if  she  is  not  herself  without  the  family  sword  in  hand,  then  who  is  she?  scholar,  daughter,  useless  child.  another  body  for  the  blade. )

“i  ...would  like  company,”  she  rasps,  and  it  sounds  as  hesitant  and  vulnerable  as  a  plea,  but  dear  g-d,  rin  is  so  tired  of  being  alone  with  only  her  rage  for  to  keep   her  warm. 

when  the  trials  are  over,  rin  has  her  own  mind  again,  and  no  rage  consumes  her.  there  is  instead  only  the  emptiness,  the  loneliness,  of  being  not-quite-dead.  she  only  sees  outsiders  when  they  are  fleeing  from  her  sword,  or  when  they  are  not  fast  enough  to  escape  her  misplaced  wrath.

but  the  woman  in  the  fur  costume  looks  dangerous,  and  conversely  this  fills  the  corpse-girl  with  relief.  this  is  not  someone  rin  could  ruin  or  shatter  with  her  blade.  perhaps  she  will  not  go  into  her  terrible  rage  here.  perhaps  she  is  safe.

“hello?”  rasps  out  of  a  voice  weak  from  misuse,  weak  from  screaming  her  need  for  revenge,  weak  from  grief  and  horror  and  death.

girls are coming out of the woods, clearing the ground to scatter their stories. even those girls found naked in ditches and wells, those forgotten in neglected attics, and buried in river beds like sediments from a different century. [ ...is the world speaking too? is it asking, what does it really mean to give someone a proper resting?... ] girls are coming out of the woods the way birds arrive at morning windows—pecking and humming, until all you can hear is the smash of their miniscule hearts against glass, the bright desperation of sound—bashing, disappearing.

                                             girls are coming out of the woods. they’re coming.

Carefully, like a gentle rain on dry Earth

you've been left beaten down and by someone you really trusted and loved, so now love doesn't come easy for you. you want it to. you want to love and be loved, but you're not sure you remember how. so you need someone else to take the lead. they have to be gentle and sweet and patient. they have to watch out for you, and make sure you’re doing okay, because most days you feel a little fragile, if not totally shattered. But someone will come along who will put those pieces back together again. 

tagging: steal!