A/N: I really like to imagine OYTC as motherly in personality when she doesn't have her deity duties to attend to, like she's nurturing and lovely to balance OSU's wretched destruction? this isn't shown here as much, though, I'll write a drabble about when they masked her though! It'll be super creepy and fun! should I do that tonight or wait?
It was almost too quiet, empty, even, and her face was burning. There was no more music, no more comforting rumble from her partner, there was nothing. She couldn't even remember what it was she missed so much.
It was quiet, and she knew that, but quiet compared to what? Here there was sound, her own breath, water dripping, and an occasional gust of wind. But there were no birds. Yes, that's what was missing, her lovely, darling birds! No two had the same plumage.
Plumage…she could no longer see, she realized with disappointment. Had she always been unable to see? Had her face always felt so searing hot? Surely not. Then she heard something, faintly. Almost as though it were coming from miles away only for her to hear. A beautiful, young voice. One of her birds.
The bird spoke of a beautiful, bright, warm world. Of a kindly masked man speaking with a young boy with hair that glittered. She spoke of protecting the world…
Her eyes widened behind the cold porcelain that somehow bore into her like hot spikes, she recognized the masked man! He was one of her special birds! She had seen him, and he'd had a large, large woman with him. Where were they? They could surely help her!
The rest of the song faded from her hearing, and again she was alone. When had she met the man and his giantess friend? How had she met them? She couldn't remember much outside of this…wherever she was. It sounded like a cave. It had to be a cave! She remembered a time with no pain. She remembered fire, burning, death, destruction. Rebirth, building, new birds! She remembered a huge, lumbering presence and a comforting rumble he gave off that shook her very being.
The memory of the death and destruction told her the burning wasn't real. She didn't smell burning, it only felt like it. Something was doing this to her, but she was powerless to stop it. Powerless to destroy it. Destroy. That word, that action, it felt…the thought of destruction raised an inexplicable need in her. She wanted, craved, needed the bite of destruction, the dirt, soot, ash on her hands. Time…time was up. She didn't know what time, she couldn't remember. She tried to conjure up something, anything, but only shadows rose at her feet, and they weren't needed.
She remembered power, she remembered he was asleep. He needed to wake up, and they were so, so close. Only a few more divas and the magic would begin to wane enough. This all meant nothing now, all she remembered was being so close to something she knew, in every way, had to happen.
And then there was pain, and darkness. "Sing for me?" she begged the darkness around her. Surely the little bird could hear her. Please let the little bird hear her.
Please let someone hear her. Someone, anyone…the burning and confusion…where were her birds? She knew, somehow, thy had to be able to help. They had to.