Title by April. Characters and plot by Amelia. Story by Kate.
Danica Shardae lies in her bed still clothed. Somehow, the beautiful girl before me is not what I expected. In her sleep, her eyes flutter beneath their lids, searching for something that is missing within her dreams. Is she trying to find my brother? Or is she attempting to find the soul that she obviously lacks?
I take a step closer, my knife clutched tight in my hand. The blade rubs against my skin in an uncomfortable fashion, but doesn't sink in. Nervously, I continue towards her, my breaths becoming labored, though I am sure that she won't here me. This moment might be emotional, but I haven't lost my cobra poise and grace.
Up close, Danica Shardae looks even more beautiful. In her blouse and pants, she surely looks the picture of avian reserve and beauty when awake. Asleep, though, such nonsense is abandoned. Her lips are parted just slightly, and I feel the urge to reach out and touch her smooth skin.
I don't, though. Not just yet. Her eyes settle, and I exhale softly. This is the moment that I've been planning for a few days now. How dare a girl of fifteen receive the gift of my brother's death for her birthday? It was not his time to go, and this stupid war took him.
This stupid war took him, I realize, and the thought that his death might not be this girl's fault hits me with an unexpected force. Where else should the blame lie, then? I clutch the blade tighter, but my thoughts conflict with my intentions. How could this beautiful girl, as striking as the virtuous Artemis, be at fault?
I shake my head, annoyed with where my mind is taking me. I pull my eyes from her lovely face and towards something, anything else. They land on a beautiful pillow lying on an oak chest in her room. It is surely hand-crafted with exquisitely sewn dragons on it…
But I am not here to inspect the design of Danica's bedroom. My eyes return to her face and to her neck which I intend to slit without hesitation. And yet I am hesitating already, before I have even prepared my blade for the task.
Danica's eyes begin to wander beneath her lids again. I reach out a hand to touch her cheek in hopes to calm her. The thought of her upset pains me, though I still mean to kill her, I remind myself. She flinches in her sleep and lets out a cry, moving away from my touch. At first I am angered by her withdrawal, though she surely doesn't know that she's pulled away, but then I see the cut just below where I have touched. Another one runs along her arm. Has she been in a fight? Perhaps she has been affected by this war as well. Danica Shardae has a soul after all, it would seem.
I long to hold her, to provide some semblance of comfort, if only in her sleep. But I can't bring myself to do so. Instead, I watch her has she relaxes in her bed once more, still dressed in her clothes from earlier that day. Her cuts will heal after time. Perhaps they will fade to scars, but most likely they will disappear completely after time. I don't think that my injuries will ever do either. My brother is gone. I can never attempt to forget that, or even to let the memory fade into the background.
In that moment, I decide that whether the girl before me has a soul or not, I hate her. I knew this all along, but now no one has to remind me of the fact. For her fifteenth birthday, the stupid avian princess received the gift of my brother's death. I will never forgive her for that.
And so I ride off into the night, the stars my only lighting. Once I reach the Desmodus paths and am almost back to the serpiente palace, I realize that my blade is still clutched in my hand. I let out a small laugh, not in the least surprised that I didn't slit Danica's throat like I intended to. I'm not a killer, and she is too beautiful to destroy.
But that doesn't mean that I don't hate her.