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.