I don't own anything.
tick-tick boom.
Naminé watches Kairi from the mirror. Because in that white card house castle of hers she has many mirrors.
But surely enough, that paperdoll princess of heart ignores her, as she must. Because Kairi knows that if she looks at that snowy reflection that she casts, she will get dizzy and surely faint. And Heaven knows they aren't in the mood for that today.
Heaven knows.
xox
Kairi knows she would got mad in that room. Firstly, the place seemed much too similar to a person sized birdcage for her to be fond of it. Secondly, she simply could not imagine living without color; without the lilac sunset or the rusty sand or the salty blue ocean.
All of them were dear to her, like friends. Like earth and air. Like blue and red and silver.
xox
But Naminé knows all those colors only as names in her crayon box; as promising words printed on the waxy paper. She knows them as dreams. And she feels the faraway flicker of it only when she arabesques herself from paper to paper, when she covers herself in pastels, and spills watercolor paint across the floor. Only then does she feel that special feeling. Alive.
The mess is quickly cleaned up, of course. But the feeling is nice while it lasts.
xox
Naminé has been having nightmares, lately. Naminé knows that she isn't supposed to be able to dream. But she also knows that it isn't one of Kairi's memories, either. Because she is quite certain that Kairi has never found herself in a lagoon.
The dreams starts off she suddenly, the way she seems to be floating towards the bog, and how it glows a dark unsettling green color. The place is terrifying and exciting and horrible, but she finds herself not wanting to leave. And the place wants her to stay, too. She imagines long dead skeleton hands reaching out to her from beneath. And then she watches herself sink under the waves. She takes one last breath. She watches the bubbles float to the top, crackling like champagne on the surface. Plip. Plip. Pop. But now her eyes feel heavy under the murky water. And she thinks to herself, at least the waves aren't white, tonight.
And then there are no more bubbles.
And when she wakes up, God, how she wishes it were true.
xox
Mirror, mirror, on the wall: who's the fairest one of all?