12-27-2020, 08:43 PM
Are you dead?
Am I?
Questions fill the uncertain space between them, and they give Sintra pause because the voice that asks them wears nothing that sounds dangerous, only tired - and the soap-bubble girl knows too well the way the exhaustion feels when it creeps in between your bones and makes your skin crawl.
"We aren't dead," the frown on her dark lips matches the sullen rainbows that play across her skin, but there's a note of uncertainy in her voice. Her memory skips, trying to touch the recent past, to remember what it was like to be dead, if only for a moment, if only in a dream, but the memory is blunted and slippery and the effort of remembering creases her forehead, making the still-sensitive scar over her eye twinge. The pain only serves to distract her, she gets confused so easily. Was death before or after the boy covered in little mouths?
She finds that she isn't sure, now.
Maybe they are dead, and maybe that is why she can't remember.
But her heart still beats, even if the other girl doesn't seem to notice; that pulse of red just visible to her own eyes between the flat blades of her shoulders. Sintra shakes her head and the unruly locks of her young mane fall across her face. They are not quite long enough to hide the ruin of it Even one-eyed, she still can see shadows that mark the gaunt filly's sides.
"I did die, once. I think," Her head tips and half the star-mantled girl disappears into darkness. The memory's slid away again, "Maybe it was a dream? I... I can't remember now, but I wasn't any happier there."
Too much of Time stretches before her. The idea of suffering an entire lifetime just to face it in Eternity, too, makes her feel ill.
Am I?
Questions fill the uncertain space between them, and they give Sintra pause because the voice that asks them wears nothing that sounds dangerous, only tired - and the soap-bubble girl knows too well the way the exhaustion feels when it creeps in between your bones and makes your skin crawl.
"We aren't dead," the frown on her dark lips matches the sullen rainbows that play across her skin, but there's a note of uncertainy in her voice. Her memory skips, trying to touch the recent past, to remember what it was like to be dead, if only for a moment, if only in a dream, but the memory is blunted and slippery and the effort of remembering creases her forehead, making the still-sensitive scar over her eye twinge. The pain only serves to distract her, she gets confused so easily. Was death before or after the boy covered in little mouths?
She finds that she isn't sure, now.
Maybe they are dead, and maybe that is why she can't remember.
But her heart still beats, even if the other girl doesn't seem to notice; that pulse of red just visible to her own eyes between the flat blades of her shoulders. Sintra shakes her head and the unruly locks of her young mane fall across her face. They are not quite long enough to hide the ruin of it Even one-eyed, she still can see shadows that mark the gaunt filly's sides.
"I did die, once. I think," Her head tips and half the star-mantled girl disappears into darkness. The memory's slid away again, "Maybe it was a dream? I... I can't remember now, but I wasn't any happier there."
Too much of Time stretches before her. The idea of suffering an entire lifetime just to face it in Eternity, too, makes her feel ill.
@[spectra]