Hard it might be, to wave someone away - this ought to be something that everyone can have their own shake at. Teary-eyed farewells are romantic in their own way, so dramatic and separated from the everyday that there can't help but be something special in the process of it all - but it must be depressing nonetheless, this is an established sort of sadness which is so perverse in the way that it resurfaces, so easily remembered by way of things which then might only serve to hurt you. Isn't it always terrible, to have someone move away from home, not so suddenly but in a certain amount of time that a great numbness overcomes you as the days go along, as the calender creeps longingly towards its conclusion, as the days fast-forward and memories become so deathly important? Yes, it is always upsetting.
Perhaps it is upsetting still, to lose something as important as one's self, not willfully, through the development of one's character, but subjugated through force that the very facets of one's personality begin to crumble. It is then that the internalised despair blooms deeply within, as memories become obsolete, as the continuation of life becomes painful and filled with dread. Is this so upsetting as it is disturbing? Is it even possible for such a thing to happen? Imagine, as the self fades, overpowered, into, not obscurity, or forgetfulness, but into something else. Nonexistence, unremembered and, not forgotten, but vanished completely. This is a special kind of despair, in which memories can only last for so long. As sacrificial as one's life may be, this would truly be one of the worst ways to disappear.
It is the crest of early morning as the sun blooms dandelion-kissed amber, teetering gently on the horizon, as the hall fills with uneven chatter, louder, louder still, students speaking, occassionally shouting - there is a certain nostalgia to it, most people would feel, much older and so much more connected with the world, but it was not placed in such a person on that day, and it could not be as revelatory or fulfilling. The silver clocks strike their time, a conjoining of hands, into the beginning of the day where the head begins to wander, learn and inadvertently give up. 9:00am struck clear, tolling out that ring - such awful ringing, and the noise jumbled with eager chatter, some sighing, some giving their goodbyes, and in a total spread of efficiency the halls were empty again, the noise now filtered through doorways, movements glimpsed in brief actions through cracks leading into the classrooms.
She is tugged by her sleeve, "Filia? Are you alright?"
Someone might have jumped - her, no, not even close, in fact she found something endearing about those scars of hers - the ways that the lines intercrossed and patterned her head, so clear and unmasked. Even now, she smiled a terrible smile at Filia, and in her woefully red eyes there was something like a renewed happiness, or appreciation of life, so subtle and suppressed in a selfless way which was so much like her. That hypnotising stupor of hers had been broken yet again, those daydreams which were not quite daydreams that she had been losing herself in lately, by that smile. She, too, couldn't help but creep her lips at the perky worry in Carol's voice, "Don't worry about me. I'm just daydreaming."
"At least do your daydreaming in class. We're gonna be late."
They were friends, before and after - or, it could be said that their paths had crossed in a strange way that tied them together. Filia had known Carol, before what had happened, happened, in a simpler time when the two of them wasted away their days lounging on the roadside hillcrests, chatting skyward about nothing in particular. They were friends, certainly, but not in the close way they were now. Still, they emulated the days they had back then, almost as if nothing had happened. The elephant which inhabited their room had been encountered too many times already - now, they were content just letting it idle in the corner, forever only subtly acknowledged in the actions of one-another.
They sat far apart, but something like that didn't bother Filia. Carol had been doing her best to make friends, and in the weeks she had been back, the class had calmed down a little about the way she looked. Nothing much was said, 'Carol is Carol', they said, and it was as if nothing had ever happened. It was the best outcome, the one she always hoped for. Filia had found herself a little dejected from school recently, like the learning had started to lose its meaning. Often times, she simply rested with her hand on her chin - something had started to tire her out ferociously. The chatter of the classroom died down, but only in her head, where a great silence had begun to make itself known. The sensation was like - Filia thought, but there was nothing that could compare to it. Back then, Carol once caught her cheek with one of the spikes from underneath her skin. It hurt, so perhaps it was like that, but there was nothing like the relief from having avoided it. No, there was something inescapable that grew in her mind.
Yes - the Skull Heart. It wasn't something she liked to remember. Some artifact - or, she thought, it might even be alive, like a demon. It was a firmly established thing, not folklore, but a real danger. It could grant any women's wish - whatever they pleased, it was theirs to take, so long as they made their wish selfless, completely devoid of any personal gain or accomplishment of one's pride. But it could not be so simple as wishing for the benefit of someone else, as Filia found out the hard way. It was her desire, after all, to want Carol back, not simply so that she could live the life she wanted, make the friends she needed. Filia herself wanted her back, to be friends with her again, to experience those drafty sunsets on the school roof, chatting about nothing - not a single thing, until the sun vanished. In that way, she was selfish about her desires to the Heart, but the toll wasn't something of hers - her life, or karmic. What had the previous Skullgirl desired? Did she also make a 'selfless' wish, for the sake of someone else? Was the carnage she caused worth it, for what she received in return?
Everyday, that feeling returned. It was obvious what was coming - though she hadn't told Carol about it. To know that her wish was for nothing wasn't something that could be put into words so easily. How long would it take? Weeks? Years? What worth would her memories have if she was destined to lose them? Where would 'she' go? The real 'Filia', not the Skullgirl she was destined to become? What did Carol mean to her when confronted with the abyss of her own mind, unable to control her own body? Or, would it not be something so simple? What kind of feelings would she develop, that could lead her to cause so much trouble for the Kingdom? She was afraid of that day, whenever it would come, more than anything. Again, she felt it, that familiar tug, and with a heavier heart she confronted the wry smirk of that scarred girl, so excitable and starry-eyed, lugging that case of hers around, that she could only be sent further into that grief, surrounded by unknowing people.
"Come on, Filia, class is over. You're usually the first one out the door, you know?"
But, her happiness mattered, now more than ever, and even confronted with the truth, she couldn't help but smile.
"Yeah. Let's get going."