crescendo.

The ribbon was purple – a pale lavender, really. Made of silk, it was truly an elegant thing, something to toy with on a cold night. She knew he had liked it, and had bought it for her on the assumption that she would like it as well.

She hated it. She hated it almost as much as she hated him, as she hated the world, as she hated everything.

When he had given it to her, he had been giving her that weak smile of his that she supposed he thought would calm her. Ever since she had arrived, she had loved nothing more than to shatter it at every chance she got. Turning up her nose when he proffered it to her had done the trick.

Yet even now, she was intrigued by the simple ribbon. She dangled it in front of her, watching it sway with her movements, the silk threads shining in the dying sun. Even if it was beautiful, she hated it with all her heart, and maybe more. She didn't know why, but something in her mind was nagging her – telling her it was bad, and it was terrible, and it was reviving memories that were better dead. She had not known she could harbor such hatred for a normal lavender silk ribbon.

But why did she hate it? Half of her thought it was beautiful. Half of her thought that the simplest things were the most beautiful.

Where had the thought come from? Someone had said it. "That which is beautiful can only be beautiful if it can die, and even that beauty must be swift, fleeting, there for only an instant before it fades away." Why did she remember it?

His shirt had been lavender.

It struck her like a train ramming into a brick wall. His shirt had been lavender. Yes. It had been lavender.

It was too late to bury it again.

The scream attracted the man she hated to where she sat outside, to where she clutched her head and stared into the scarlet, too-bright sun. She felt her hands shaking madly on her ears, but she was beyond caring. If he touched her or tried to calm her, she did not know. All she knew was the terrible abyss that had become her mind, neverending and unrelenting.

Two words cam to her, floating through the empty black sea that was her soul. She could not say the second word.

"No..."

Her open lips felt the warm saltwater falling onto them, but nothing happened. All she could do was say the second word silently over and over again, a soundless echo that no one but her knew.

The ribbon had made her remember him. The boy who had stolen away her smile. The boy who had charmed away her heart.

The boy who had died when she should have instead.

She did not close her eyes to stop the stream. She continued to stare on into the crimson sun, feeling it burn away the green eyes that had condemned her as a heathen. How would it feel, she wondered, to disappear in that scarlet globe forever?

Suddenly, the fiery light was cut off. Suddenly. Oh, why was everything so sudden? It was always too soon, too early. Then too late.

"Lym? Lym, are you all right?"

She did not want him here. She wanted him gone, gone, gone with the sun and the light and with Kale. Gone gone gone.

Oh, how wonderful it would be to strangle him with his own ribbon, his own gods-damned ribbon that had started it all! How sweet, like a caramel chocolate.

"What? Caramel? Lym, babe, you've gotta be kidding. Marshmallow's the best!"

Or maybe marshmallow. He'd liked marshmallow.

She clenched her teeth and dove, flexing the claws that had once been called hands into him, hoping that he'd die, that he'd fade, that he'd feel all the pain that she did now, all from his terrible evil ribbon.

She heard him yell, but it was short, too short. Not long enough to satisfy her anger. She wanted him to... to suffer! To cry! To feel the pain she had felt, and be forced into this endless hatred because of it!

Who... are you?

She froze. Who was that... a voice?

You... you are not Lym.

Voices in her head. Voices in her head. She wanted to laugh – she knew she wasn't all sane, but she hadn't expected voices. But she also wanted to cry.

You cannot be Lym!

...this voice. She had heard it, once upon a time upon a time upon a dream. Upon a lavender ribbon, bought for her for Aria's wedding so she and he could match.

Lym... would never be this angry!

She remembered laughing with this voice, this person. She remembered smiling at this voice.

She remembered losing her heart to this voice.

She let go of the man she had hated. She let go of it all, let go of consciousness and all its pain.

She sank back into her sea-black soul, into a blazing ball of red, and into the arms of Kale.

I... I am Lym.


AN: oh, how the emotions trill. several hints at the characters in this one, though the "hated man" is unknown. he can be whoever you want, dearies. "Crescendo", in musical lingo, means "to gradually become louder". my writing may suck, but at least I know my musical terms! wow.