Airless, Breathless- by Harukami
I cannot breathe, I cannot breathe, I cannot remember how.
To look down at myself, I cannot see more than a shade. Where am I, where am I? To look in a mirror does not help me, I am not there, I am nothing.
No, I must hold on. I must remember who I am, who am I? I don't want to go insane!
Hush, hush, little one. Recreate yourself.
My lovely clothes are all in ruination, I think. I should have changed. My blood has stained it too much, my lace is tattered. Such a pity, so sad, my poor clothing. And my hair, too, I can see my hair all ragtag dangling limply. I have not fed since, since...
His blood is almost gone, almost all used up. Like rattling death-breath, all gone. If I were cut now, would I even bleed? The humans use the colour blue for sadness. Is this sadness, the way a human means the word? It's been so long, so long.
No, I must hold on. Clench my hands and, oh, look, I am here after all.
Good, it is quiet for a moment. My eyes feel tired as they track through this room, Asellus's room. They would not look for me here.
There is nothing of the human in this room, everything of the mystic. She would not call it her room.
There needs to be a balance. As a mystic, she would be another Orlouge I'm sure, and then why change? Orlouge was at least predictable. And if human, she would not rule in Facinaturu. No, there needs to be a balance.
Blood, I need blood. Oh, what a risk, if Ciato sees me now it might be all for nothing. If I fade, though, or if my sanity slips, it WILL be for nothing. I am no martyr.
I am a little tattered shadow slipping from this room, down stairs once stained with my blood. Tattered nothings. Where is my grandeur? Where are my courtly words and smiles and subtlety? Where am I now?
I am passing the throne room. Voices, and I freeze to listen, not breathing, not remembering how to.
"She is not acting much like a Mystic," an attendant was saying. I know who she is, that attendant, but her name escapes me for now, unimportant.
"We will see," and I know that voice, know Orlouge, "we will see how she behaves. She will come for me eventually."
"Will she?" the attendant asks. "She does not seem to hate you.
Does not hate? Does not /hate/? There can be no rebelling, no overthrowing of a tyrant, no start of a new leader...nothing without hate. How can she not hate? Not enough reason?
She must have a reason, then. Willpower makes me strong and I am leaving, something like myself again -- something -- gate rattling open, smell of scared human, smell of Rootville floating up and I plunge into it like someone plunging into a pool of flowers to drown, drown.
And there it is, the pretty little hut, so pretty, and I throw the door open, toss the tailor aside -- not hurting, not feeding, he should not scream, he does not understand my kindness -- and am up the stairs to seize the girl by her arm before SHE can scream.
She DOES scream, and beg, and invoke Asellus's name, and we're getting too close to the Chateau, it's dangerous.
So I turn to her, and pet her hair, I vaguely remember small children. "Hush, hush," I tell her. "You won't be hurt."
"Who are you?" she demands, scared.
It takes me a moment to remember, my fingers tight on her arm. Fear. I'm scared. I must not let go. Too much pain, too long. When was it last said to me? The sound of a sword falling. "Rastaban," I say, and inhale night air. Calmness. Quietness.
I will feed soon, but not on this girl. "Something big is going to happen," I say. My next words are a guess, but she has mentioned Asellus's name enough. "Your love for Lady Asellus is well-known, and some crueller than I would hurt you for it. I wish to keep you safe."
She still looks doubtful so I move to give her a better look at my bloodstains. "See? I have been wounded for my support of Asellus. I will hide you safely but, please, we must not tarry longer."
She nods then, still scared-looking, as I lead her to the gates. "Is Lady Asellus all right?"
"You will see her soon," I promise. "Ildon will bring her." Come to me, come to me.
"Is he helping her?" she asks. "He seemed so...unpleasant."
"A mask, a guise, he is helping," I assure her. "Now quietly, we must move like shadows." One more breath of fresh air and we're inside that breathless place.
Come to me, I'm going to win.
--
END
I cannot breathe, I cannot breathe, I cannot remember how.
To look down at myself, I cannot see more than a shade. Where am I, where am I? To look in a mirror does not help me, I am not there, I am nothing.
No, I must hold on. I must remember who I am, who am I? I don't want to go insane!
Hush, hush, little one. Recreate yourself.
My lovely clothes are all in ruination, I think. I should have changed. My blood has stained it too much, my lace is tattered. Such a pity, so sad, my poor clothing. And my hair, too, I can see my hair all ragtag dangling limply. I have not fed since, since...
His blood is almost gone, almost all used up. Like rattling death-breath, all gone. If I were cut now, would I even bleed? The humans use the colour blue for sadness. Is this sadness, the way a human means the word? It's been so long, so long.
No, I must hold on. Clench my hands and, oh, look, I am here after all.
Good, it is quiet for a moment. My eyes feel tired as they track through this room, Asellus's room. They would not look for me here.
There is nothing of the human in this room, everything of the mystic. She would not call it her room.
There needs to be a balance. As a mystic, she would be another Orlouge I'm sure, and then why change? Orlouge was at least predictable. And if human, she would not rule in Facinaturu. No, there needs to be a balance.
Blood, I need blood. Oh, what a risk, if Ciato sees me now it might be all for nothing. If I fade, though, or if my sanity slips, it WILL be for nothing. I am no martyr.
I am a little tattered shadow slipping from this room, down stairs once stained with my blood. Tattered nothings. Where is my grandeur? Where are my courtly words and smiles and subtlety? Where am I now?
I am passing the throne room. Voices, and I freeze to listen, not breathing, not remembering how to.
"She is not acting much like a Mystic," an attendant was saying. I know who she is, that attendant, but her name escapes me for now, unimportant.
"We will see," and I know that voice, know Orlouge, "we will see how she behaves. She will come for me eventually."
"Will she?" the attendant asks. "She does not seem to hate you.
Does not hate? Does not /hate/? There can be no rebelling, no overthrowing of a tyrant, no start of a new leader...nothing without hate. How can she not hate? Not enough reason?
She must have a reason, then. Willpower makes me strong and I am leaving, something like myself again -- something -- gate rattling open, smell of scared human, smell of Rootville floating up and I plunge into it like someone plunging into a pool of flowers to drown, drown.
And there it is, the pretty little hut, so pretty, and I throw the door open, toss the tailor aside -- not hurting, not feeding, he should not scream, he does not understand my kindness -- and am up the stairs to seize the girl by her arm before SHE can scream.
She DOES scream, and beg, and invoke Asellus's name, and we're getting too close to the Chateau, it's dangerous.
So I turn to her, and pet her hair, I vaguely remember small children. "Hush, hush," I tell her. "You won't be hurt."
"Who are you?" she demands, scared.
It takes me a moment to remember, my fingers tight on her arm. Fear. I'm scared. I must not let go. Too much pain, too long. When was it last said to me? The sound of a sword falling. "Rastaban," I say, and inhale night air. Calmness. Quietness.
I will feed soon, but not on this girl. "Something big is going to happen," I say. My next words are a guess, but she has mentioned Asellus's name enough. "Your love for Lady Asellus is well-known, and some crueller than I would hurt you for it. I wish to keep you safe."
She still looks doubtful so I move to give her a better look at my bloodstains. "See? I have been wounded for my support of Asellus. I will hide you safely but, please, we must not tarry longer."
She nods then, still scared-looking, as I lead her to the gates. "Is Lady Asellus all right?"
"You will see her soon," I promise. "Ildon will bring her." Come to me, come to me.
"Is he helping her?" she asks. "He seemed so...unpleasant."
"A mask, a guise, he is helping," I assure her. "Now quietly, we must move like shadows." One more breath of fresh air and we're inside that breathless place.
Come to me, I'm going to win.
--
END