In no small way, Rosebay loves the darkness.
She loves the endless supply of it—the way that it hides its secrets underneath the canopy of itself. She loves the way it reflects your own thoughts back to you and then lets you slip between its ribcage so that you can hide yourself too, if you only ask. So she feels no fear when she rises each morning, feels nothing but curiosity and hunger as she strikes out into a world that is suddenly and entirely hers alone.
She is in the meadow today for reasons that she does not quite know, but also does not care to completely dissect. Instead she wanders amongst the dead vegetation, feeling them brush against the ivory armor that has begun to creep over her steadily. There are more pieces of it than before, some beginning to grow down her delicate forehead, others creeping out to curve around her thin ribcage.
It hurts, but she doesn’t mind the pain.
She wonders if maybe she prefers it.
When she sees him, the barest hints of light catching the gold of him. There is a hungry piece of her that is glad to see him and then angry that it has taken this long—that he has not sought her out before this. But she swallows it down, rearranging her face into something simple and sweet. She pauses, looking around her before she folds down to the ground, she takes a deep breath before she cries out, her voice higher than before. “Help!” her voice sounds foreign in her own ears, the breathy helplessness.
Thinking quickly, she solidifies the poison that always lives in her bloodstream to cut its way out of her in jagged slashes down her shoulder. She hisses in a breath, nearly dizzy for a moment, before she throws her head down to the side. “Help,” she cries again, this time her voice a little fainter, a little softer.
but in all chaos, there is calculation
@[lumineer]