Sanctuary
In
scientific experiments, bell jars are used to control created environments, to
create a vacuum, and to protect fragile objects. Some are more fragile than
others.
Today is dreary and sodden. Though they say the blindingly white sky extends
for miles, Anthy still feels the atmosphere burdensome on her hunched
shoulders. She keeps her braid-bound head down to preserve her glasses from
splotches of rain, and her breath comes out like ghosts summoned from the
interior depths of her whorling, twirling body. If someone
put Anthy Himemiya to their ear, they wouldn't hear
the ocean. They wouldn't hear anything at all.
At least, that's what the Student Council President thinks. He does not
identify Anthy's bedraggled little form as that
creature. He watches from indoors, keeping someone he recognizes but does not know
in his sights as far as the length of her rainy walk, the distance short but
sufficiently sodden, from a canceled class to this forlorn glass bell jar
cupping the rose garden. Even in inclement weather she comes to tend the
roses-- of course she does. She is the rose bride. But even Touga could forget,
watching through anonym-crafting glass and fog.
She is such a little girl. And she looks anything but graceful, taking snippy
little steps to try and dodge the drops. She hardly appears as if she could
house a sword, a miracle, a special shining quality, an eternity. Even when the
mist gives up illusion and this mortal is the bride again-- hands cold-clumsy
at the door, body world-weary with impossible things Touga knows nothing
about-- today they are unimportant and unmentioned, the inexplicable powers Anthy
hosts. Even the Student Council President needs to be penned in sometimes. He opens
the door from inside, and lets another chick back into the warm jungle-moist
vacuum of her eggshell.
