SHE WAS INTERESTING. interesting in the way one would call an enemy. or how a child tries to tie their shoelaces, only to knot them up to the ankle in attempts. another word would be foolish. kaede akamatsu was foolish in nature. a doll with a painted smile, a kitten who has yet to reveal its ferocity.
SHE WAS INTERESTING. to a fault, naivety that weaved betwixt her fingers like the noose she fashioned herself. her eyes, they were big and full of innocence. —– partially, she pitied such a being, a girl who shed her own layers to keep others warm. on the other hand, what she felt deep in her heart, what breathed from her chest and not her lips —- was bitter, violent, caustic envy.
she was ethereal, perhaps an angel. one of pure heart that rallied others close in times of crippling despair. but this, this wasn't anything close to heaven. the clouds, they taunt us with a castle in the sky and a home where nimble fingers play the stars like a grand piano. oh, but the doves they crash into this cage of an oasis and these feathers that were once an expensive ivory become dyed with red. she will meet someone who will wear her halo like a ring on their finger. that same person will choke her with it.
she wished she could be like that.
a girl who brings fragile and dainty hands together in prayer, who looks to the sun as if something is waiting for her. instead this fate is haunted and dim, and the blade that cuts her enemies is fused to this bloody, impure hand.
the same eyes that stalk prey in the wild concentrate on this person of virginity, a gaze of red and death and doom. maybe her eyes ought have been elsewhere, but, she couldn't look away.
‘ why are you smiling ? ’
( ❤ ) one muse pulls the other into a tight hug. (kaede pulls maki into the hug)
acts of affection / accepting !
she could hear her heartbeat. an insignia of one’s vitality —- she could always hear her target’s vitals pulse in her ears, louder than any footstep, stronger than any battle cry. but this —- this was different. her chest pounded to a ballad of love and purity, they were soft and kind, something that a child would fall into the depths of slumber at the hands of.
this was not a byproduct of her vitality. this was no reaffirmation of her reality. this was a gentle embrace, moreso than the arms that draped her body. she would wrap herself in this sound, this unfinished symphony. and somewhere, sometime, her own heart would leap in reciprocation. and, together, they created the perfect duet.
tag dump
