ʟɪᴀɴᴀ | ᴛʜᴇ sᴄᴀᴛᴛᴇʀʙʟᴀᴅᴇ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scatterblade) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
wakingthedead2015-01-13 11:30 am
scatterblade) wrote in wakingthedead2015-01-13 11:30 am
waking the dead 2.0 | de mairt, 27th of samhain.
At night, on the journey back to Eriskay from Ys.
[ This is what you dream of, Yulia Bostova: you out in the cold, kneeling in the snow, bent over near double, armored fingers sinking helplessly into the white, coughing into your other hand. It’ll feel like an eternity before the fit stops, and when your hand pulls away, it’s red.
But those are not your hands, that is not your hair (you’re blond, Marcin once called it ‘sunlight’, sunlight never gets as dark as this), this is not your body, and you are definitely not dying anymore, at least not as quickly as used to. That isn’t your phone either, especially since you’re pretty sure it doesn’t have the number and name that’s flashing on the screen.
Still, when this woman breathes in, it’ll feel like you drew in a breath, and it’s as sharp as a knife to the gut. Funny: oxygen is supposed to make a body feel better, isn’t it? ]
H… hello. [ You’ll feel the way she sucks in another breath even if it hurts, fights for calm, struggles to smooth her voice over and sound less like she’s in pain. ] Hi, honey. Yeah, I just finished up here. Going to head back to base now. Call you when I’m up again? I need to sleep.
[ Time must have passed full of the Scatterblade of the Searing Wind and her husband talking, because in the next blink the body you’re in is standing, dropping the call. There are other oni-tsukai in the distance, moving among the corpses. They know she is there, but they keep a respectful distance. All of them have crow feathers somewhere on their person. She has placed some in her hair.
Another blink, and you’re curled up on your side in the cot within your room. The camp is still teeming with activity, grim and efficient in light of the distant sounds of combat. You’re looking at your phone, with that name and that face still on the screen.
( He knows you’re going to go. )
I know.
( You’re both pretending that it isn’t going to happen. )
Do you disapprove?
There’s a sigh from the demon in her head. You feel yourself smile as you set the phone aside, as you curl up a little tighter.
It’ll be my birthday soon. You haven’t given me a gift yet.
( What the hell could I possibly give you? I’m – )
Make it painless, please.
Silence. She shuts her eyes.
Good night, Wrack. I love you.
And after what feels like a few hours in a matter of minutes, just as your limbs weigh themselves down and the dark rushes up one last time:
( Good night, Liana. I love you too. ) ]
[ This is what you dream of, Yulia Bostova: you out in the cold, kneeling in the snow, bent over near double, armored fingers sinking helplessly into the white, coughing into your other hand. It’ll feel like an eternity before the fit stops, and when your hand pulls away, it’s red.
But those are not your hands, that is not your hair (you’re blond, Marcin once called it ‘sunlight’, sunlight never gets as dark as this), this is not your body, and you are definitely not dying anymore, at least not as quickly as used to. That isn’t your phone either, especially since you’re pretty sure it doesn’t have the number and name that’s flashing on the screen.
Still, when this woman breathes in, it’ll feel like you drew in a breath, and it’s as sharp as a knife to the gut. Funny: oxygen is supposed to make a body feel better, isn’t it? ]
H… hello. [ You’ll feel the way she sucks in another breath even if it hurts, fights for calm, struggles to smooth her voice over and sound less like she’s in pain. ] Hi, honey. Yeah, I just finished up here. Going to head back to base now. Call you when I’m up again? I need to sleep.
[ Time must have passed full of the Scatterblade of the Searing Wind and her husband talking, because in the next blink the body you’re in is standing, dropping the call. There are other oni-tsukai in the distance, moving among the corpses. They know she is there, but they keep a respectful distance. All of them have crow feathers somewhere on their person. She has placed some in her hair.
Another blink, and you’re curled up on your side in the cot within your room. The camp is still teeming with activity, grim and efficient in light of the distant sounds of combat. You’re looking at your phone, with that name and that face still on the screen.
( He knows you’re going to go. )
I know.
( You’re both pretending that it isn’t going to happen. )
Do you disapprove?
There’s a sigh from the demon in her head. You feel yourself smile as you set the phone aside, as you curl up a little tighter.
It’ll be my birthday soon. You haven’t given me a gift yet.
( What the hell could I possibly give you? I’m – )
Make it painless, please.
Silence. She shuts her eyes.
Good night, Wrack. I love you.
And after what feels like a few hours in a matter of minutes, just as your limbs weigh themselves down and the dark rushes up one last time:
( Good night, Liana. I love you too. ) ]