Title: The sky's broken
Summary: Isis thinks about her yami, visions of the past, and arranges flowers in a vase. Contains a slightly insane-sounding Isis.
I don't own Isis Ishtar or Yu-Gi-Oh.
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Isis Ishtar knows 'she' exists. Sometimes, Isis can feel her eyes on her, raking up and down, up and down, up and down.
She turns around, half expecting to see 'her' and sees nothing. The eye feeling is gone again, but it'll come back eventually.
Malik didn't know how lucky he is. He has a real, flesh-and-blood yami that's just as insane as he is (...especially when it came to sex), and she can hear them through the walls sometimes when her younger brother gets a bit too vocal in his lovemaking.
His yami walked and talked and screamed and knew how to cause pain and how to take it, when her yami felt nothing at all. Or maybe 'she' simply didn't want to feel. Which is kind of stupid, now that she thinks about it.
So unfair. Malik and the other 'light-sides' inadvertently keep rubbing salt in the wound, too. And it still hurts as much as it did the first time and doesn't exactly help her dilemma.
She absently wonders if Shadii ever had this problem as she rearranges the flowers in the ancient vase again for the third time.
Fourth time.
Fifth time.
Due to her Millenium Tauk, Isis sometimes gets visions.
The Tauk sends her fragments of memories, letting Isis paint a bigger picture of her yami's world as it had been before it faded to nothing but ruins and vague hieroglyphics. Her inner historian goes nuts at the constant refrences to Egyptian culture, and sometimes she hears scattered pieces of conversations that sometimes feel like invasions of privacy.
A breeze from the open window sweeps through her, and sends a shiver down her spine.
Isis gets ready for bed, even though it's only the middle of the afternoon.
She silently pulls herself under satin sheets and closes her eyes, dreaming of broken skies and desert sand.